The Fucking Book – Less Than Mystery – Part One – The Dwarf – Chapter Three(5)

The smokes rising from my home village!
(Picture taken on that early morning in December,2015)

 

Less Than Mystery

Heather Cai

Chapter 3


{Click here to read Chapter Three (4)}

As my grandfather was gone, my father spoke less than before. He looked shorter than usual as he stooped slightly. The words, the face, the eyes, the sighs, the horny hands, and the growing wrinkles on his forehead here and there, all showed that he was laden with heavy responsibilities.

He was a country man. He was not a hero, though. In one way or another, I respected him even though he kept crushing my little heart.

* * * * *

From the day of my grandfather’s death, all of my family had been praying for the special day to welcome the dead back home. It was the greatest feast of the year – the Ghost Day.

In the early afternoon of Ghost Day in July that year, my parents and siblings were watching dull TV shows on a black-and-white television in their bedroom upstairs. My father reckoned not to disturb the butterfly as he expected that it would appear like before. My mother was pleased by my interest in cooking this big dinner for the ancients. My siblings, except my old sister, who was absent, were all excited to watch what would happen during this dinner through the gap in a window. And I alone prepared lots of different food downstairs, as I wished, much more food than ever.

I enjoyed cooking by myself in the kitchen, maybe something to do with my very unusual youth playing with the wood-burning stove and the black charcoal. In the early afternoon, my mother already had offered all the materials and ingredients for the dinner and put them all over the small kitchen. Most of the food was dry home-planted vegetables like lettuce, potatoes, tomatoes, many kinds of beans and some wild plants, hand-made tofu to fry and white tofu to cook soup with the fish heads. Some meat like pork and fried pig skin, fresh fish from the farm lands, crisp fried small crabs and small shrimps caught from the river the day before, a chicken roasted by my mother in the early morning and other different kinds of home-made food which were typical for Ghost Day.  Looking at all these kinds of food with different colors, thinking of the beautiful butterfly, I felt so excited that a great wave of warmth was emerging between my legs. And that sort of warmth just made me feel even more excited.

I cut all into pieces and put them on each plate. I smashed, sliced, chopped and minced all the ingredients, then put them together on a big plate. I made sure that there was a full jar of home-made red wine, from which I used to steal some to drink while cooking. When everything was ready, I set the wood fire and started cooking. Soon after that, the butterfly flew over my head and circled around the kitchen under the roof looking as if it was happy coming home. Somehow, it calmed and comforted me.

{Click here to read Chapter Three (6)}

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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