If you are a Chinese speaker, you probably know which mystery this story is based on.
這是我第一次創作的英文故事，比中文要困難很多。
This is my first English story. Indeed, it is much more difficult than creating a Chinese one.
雖說是為了投稿UCLA Kurnitz Award寫的，但也算是我給自己的一個挑戰。
Although this is for UCLA Kurnitz Award, I see this as a challenge which I set up for my self too.
僅以此文獻給我的爺爺，一位二戰戰士，我們家族中第一個來美國留學的人。
I dedicate this story and its meaning to my grandfather, a WWⅡ warrior, the first person who went abroad study to the USA in my family.
順帶一題，以下的就只有英文，沒中文翻譯了，因為我很懶。
No translation! I am lazy!!!(??)
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There was the same woman in his dreams.
She was the most beautiful woman that he had
even seen. She was, an Asian, just like him. Her hair was dark as night cloud,
her lips were red as cherries, and her body was covered by unnamed plants.
She was there.
He still remembered how his dreams started.
They started with an old trail in the
mountain, a deep quite mountain. There were tall trees surrounded. He looked upon,
but the green leaves cover above. He could barely see the sky.
She smiled.
“Who are you?” He probably has asked, but
there was no answer.
He heard the whisper of gentle wind.
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He could not remember when the first time
they met in his dream was. Probably right after September 9th, the
day he became a university student, the day he moved to west Los Angeles, and
the seventh day after his grandfather passed away. The death of his family
member made him more sentimental than usual, but he could not tell whether this
change was owing to the sorrow, or the shock of death itself.
He could hardly know who his grandfather
was.
Of course, he knew something. He knew that
his grandfather was a soldier, who served for air force. It was the late World
WarⅡ, while Chinese and Japanese were fighting
fiercely in the far east battle field. A few years after people celebrated the victory
of China, for some reasons that he would never know, his grandfather immigrated
to the U.S.A.
His father said it was because of the Civil
War in China. Many warriors, who were like his grandfather, got killed during
that time. But his grandfather survived.
However, he did not win his last war.
That was a painful memory about grandfather’s
last few days. Grandfather slept a lot. But sometimes, when he woke up, he called
out people’s names and chatted with them as they were there. They were his
family members, his friends, and his colleagues, who stayed in Taiwan, Hong
Kong, and China. Grandfather was happy, so no one dared to remind him that
those people had already gone.
At one night, he heard his grandfather
singing. He sang softly. He sang quietly. He sang, just like the whisper of the
gentle wind.
“It is time to return.” Grandfather sang.
On the next day, he had gone.
Grandfather died in his garden. No one knew
the reason why he walked outside in the midnight. When they found him, he had
something in his hand. It was a small tin box, which no one had ever seen.
“It must be important.” His father said.
But no one knew what was inside. The box
was locked. There were no ways to open it.
He kept the box as a memory of his
grandfather.
The day after the funeral, she came into
his dream.
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“She must be a ghost.” His friend Sam guessed.
“She was probably your grandfather’s friend.”
“Perhaps.” He said. “But I do not
understand. Why we always meet in the mountain?”
“Maybe she lived in the mountain.” Sam
shruged. “Or she died in that mountain.”
He tried to find the clues about the ghost
in the mountain. Frustratingly, neither encyclopedia nor Google helped. Most of
the ghost stories he found were no more than dumb stories written in cheap
novels, except one.
That was an ancient Chinese tale.
“…She
is the ghost in the mountain. She is the forgotten goddess. She clads in the creeping
vine and ivy. Her vision is gentle and her smile is charming…”
“Shan-Gui.” That was how people called her.
That was her name.
She was a beautiful goddess who waited in
the mountain for her lover.
He would rather believe she was the one in
his dream.
He never told his parents what he found.
Actually, he did not even mention about the woman in his dreams. His parents were
devout Christians. Both of them were active members of the community church. He
could imagine what would happen if they know there was a ghost.
“She is such a beautiful woman.” He explained
to his friend. “I mean, you won’t feel creepy when she looks into your eyes.
Her smile is so lovely and so real.
It doesn’t look like imagination. It is like something comes from your old memory…”
“You
are nut.” Sam said. |
| When my grandfather was still alive, he said he was trained as a pilot in the USA during the end of WWⅡ. He did not really join the anti-Japanese battle, but he did fly for the Civil War. I am not sure whether I inherit this pilot spirit, but I do like to image what is above the sky. |
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