The Fucking Book – Less Than Mystery – Part One – The Dwarf – Chapter Three(1)

 

Too bad, my grandma died too early, so no portrait of her at all. But her shadow is everywhere in my home village house.

Less Than Mystery

Heather Cai

Chapter 3


{Click here to read Chapter Two (9)}

Ever since my grandmother had chosen to stay with my aunt’s family, she helped with almost all the housework of that family. She became like a labor slave as my aunt told her to do everything. Especially, when my aunt gave birth to a boy, as my grandmother expected, she used the boy as a sort of excuse or sometimes even a weapon to tell my grandmother to do this and to do that. She treated her like shit.

I remember vividly, it was my grandmother who gave me the first small piece of candy I ever had. Gratefully, I wanted to cherish it and didn’t want to eat it up quickly. So I just held it on my little palm and licked it now and again when sitting on a rock outside the house. Suddenly, a naughty boy of a neighbor took it from my hand and ran away immediately with just big laughter left behind, without a shadow, like a little ghost.

Thus I never liked what my grandmother did, not hated either, but more I think I understand as time passes. Even though it was her idea to send me away, to choose to stay at my uncle’s side, to show more favor to my uncle’s son and daughter than anyone in my family, to be mean to my mother, and to complain she should have more sons than daughters, and to leave the family when my grandfather joined the army.

She was a traditional Chinese woman with bound feet. Like most of the other women in the village of her age, some feudal ideas were stamped in her mind. She was a victim of Feudal thinking, I thought. Look at her bound feet all wrapped up with the white cloths! Look at her, she could not even walk properly or stand still. What to blame? What to complain? 

So I used to help with her dirty clothes, wash and comb her long white hair. But she never allowed me to see her bound feet when changing the cloths, even though I begged many times when I was young. So I never got a chance to see the mysterious bound feet without cloths and the dark world under the mysterious bound feet. Not even when she died. Because my mother and aunties never opened the cloths. It seemed as if they had been told as well not to do so.

{Click here to read Chapter Three (2)}

 

To be continued…

PS:

If anyone who simply likes reading the words, the language, the story, or wants to know more about the character, the mysteries and my world, please feel free to like or comment. Any kind of remark will be highly appreciated.

If any agent or publisher, or anyone who has any connection with any agent or any publisher, would be interested in this Fucking Book, please contact this email:

FB.Heather@Outlook.com

Thank you so much!

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