The Fucking Book – Less Than Mystery – Part One – The Dwarf – Chapter Three(4)

 

 

The Dying, The Dead and The Rotten! (Picture taken in Fujian, 2015.12)

Less Than Mystery

Heather Cai

Chapter 3


{Click here to read Chapter Three (3)}

Maybe my father had immense fear of the tough life if my grandfather passed away. As he had been struggling to apply for a pension from the town government for my grandfather, the only source of income there was that needed no hard work or hands like the fucking farmwork.

Each autumn, after the harvest, my father would walk for mile after mile on the mountain path to the town government. But for years the government either gave poor excuses or simply ignored my father without any excuse or regard.

By my father’s sheer persistence, my grandfather got his first pension of thirty-eight yuan per month. Due to my father’s greater persistence in his efforts, the next year, the pension rose to more than one hundred. Thanks to my father’s continuous struggling efforts, two years later my grandfather got about three hundred as his final pension. And the local newspaper came to interview him, wrote and published an article as the headline of the week. Less than half a year after that, he died of the suffering diseases, peacefully.

At his funeral, it was my father who shed the most tears in despair among the whole family as though he had become an orphan who wanted love from parents the most. The others just took it ritually as if his death was only a part of nature. And the villagers were emotionless and silent as usual as though my grandfather never existed. Throughout the whole funeral I was too sad to cry. Moreover I was thinking of him and the old days when we were so close to each other. He never died in my heart. Never will, I thought.

It was a must to hold a big ceremony for the dead. However, any superstition activity would cost a big fortune at that time and when my grandmother died, no one in the family could really afford it. Now that my grandfather had died this ceremony could be performed for both. It lasted three nights and four days, hosted by a master. Throughout the whole of the activity all the daughters knelt down and cried out aloud till they lost their voices or just fainted onto the ground. And the sons, like my father and my uncle, one held a wooden board with the full name of my grandfather carved on it and the other held one for my grandmother. It was said that only with such a ceremony would the dead have their spirits joined to heaven. So every single family would help the dead to do so, no matter how much the cost.

* * * * *

No more grandfather, no more pension, no more extra living but all primarily relied on small farms with the terraces, no machines, but only by hand, and never ever entirely self-sufficient.

{Click here to read Chapter Three (5)}

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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