CMLIT004, ASIAN LIT PERFORMS

Family and Food (Short Stories inspired by Ang Lee's "Eat Drink Man Woman")

2008-12-14T17:36:00.000-08:00

Aunt Linda and the Round-Table of Food

With each holiday that comes and goes there are certain events that stick out most in my mind, most of which consist of the conversations around the round cherry wood table that rests in my Aunt Linda’s kitchen. Now I love my Aunt Linda, don’t get me wrong, but this womans’ personality and house act as a perfect biosphere to start every controversial conversation I have ever heard in my family. The day starts off by myself and my parents walking in through the porch door to be greeted by my aunt Linda, uncle Frankie and cousins. Aunt Linda is wandering around the kitchen preparing atleast 3 times a s much food that is needed to feed the nine of us that will be sitting down for the Turkey dinner, since it is Thanksgiving after all. The smell of delicious food has put many of us in a sluggish trance, but we find our way to a seat somewhere around the large table now taking of part of the kitchen and the dining room. As the food is all set out onto the table and our eyes become far larger than our stomach we pile the food onto our plates and dig in. Now is it too much to ask to have a pleasant conversation as we enjoy each other’s company, you beat your ass it is.

I am the first one to begin the conversation; I start off with something that is light on controversy because I just want to get the social interaction ball rolling. It only takes seconds before my question of how the weather has been lately to escalate into whether or not global warming is caused by emissions from cars and factories or if Al Gore himself is using massive flamethrowers to melt the ice caps. In such a situation I usually revert back to trying to eat some more, perhaps the digestion will hep to pass the time; nope wrong again. My father and cousin Elliot manage to bicker back and forth over who is right and who knows more, and then Pam opens her mouth to somehow bring up the subject that has no relevance to global warming. Pam wants to talk about how she thinks taking toilet paper from Wal-Mart’s’ bathroom is perfectly fine. We all give a dumbfounded look and plead her to go on with our new topic of discussion. Pam claims that if Wal-Mart cared enough about it’s toilet paper they would lock it up. Then all hell breaks loose, my dad is yelling across the table insulting Pam while he manages to gobble down some turkey and cranberry sauce, and Pam is squealing back in retaliation. Soon enough the meal that is on the table is forgotten in favor prosecution and defense. These subjects may seem outlandish, but the truth of the matter is if it isn’t one crazy topic it would be another.

No matter what holiday it is, if we are gathered at my Aunt Linda’s house for a meal we are guaranteed to have ourselves and enjoyable time. Mind you the conversations that form over our delicious meals may be crazy, but this is what the family enjoys. We all have very differing viewpoints, but it seems that for some unknown reason unless there is food on the table we can possibly have these conversations. We take comfort in the idea that if our opinion is shot down, we can still comfort ourselves with the food on our plate. In reality the debates can elevate to a very boisterous and intense level, but we always have that last piece of cake or stuffing to inhale if we need some time to gather our thoughts for retaliation. Yes I think the food on the table acts as somewhat of a distraction to diffuse a situation before someone actually gets hurt. There are some conversations of farts in a jar on ebay, and our summer trips to the shore that can never be repeated, but they are all true and I wouldn’t trade a single one of them for anything in the world. Seriously who can pass up a free dinner and a show?

(Christine Hunt, 1 December 2008)

A Welcome, Rare Turkey Moment

To me, the amazing part of Thanksgiving is the way that food can bring people together in a way that no other thing can. The very idea that simple food can bring together a family still blows my mind. I know that at my house, the week of Thanksgiving is always pretty hectic. There is a lot of prep work that goes into Thanksgiving lunch and so stress levels are high and there’s always several check lists that need done. It is a strategic, well thought out, and very practiced, tactical Endeavour. It is like a well-oiled machine or a calculated military mission.

However, for all the stress that comes with the preparation of this particular meal comes a sense of relief. Not only for when the task is finally done, but because when we all sit down to eat all that stress instantly melts away. The pains that it took to get to the table seems to blend into the background and the only important thing is the fact that my family is together, enjoying ourselves over some traditional and satisfying food.

The best part of the meal is the storytelling. The stories have been told countless times, they never change, but with each telling the memories and good times come flooding back. It is a time to reminisce and remember all the fun times we’ve shared together as a family – because that is the point of Thanksgiving. This part of the meal is especially important to me because it is a very rare occasion when all my family is together. My brother being in the military means that he doesn’t get to have time off for every holiday, so when he is home we cherish the time together. This unsure schedule makes it so that we don’t always celebrate Thanksgiving on the actual day, but rather when he is available. That to me is the essence of the holiday. It isn’t necessarily about celebrating on the exact date, but rather the idea of being together with people you love and sharing the time together. I honestly believe that should be the point of Thanksgiving.

And what’s the catalyst that brings a family together? Food. No other holiday is solely based around food and the idea of its power to bring people together. It is a time when the focus isn’t on the stresses of life but rather just enjoying one another’s company and sharing how we truly feel about each other. There is a sense of openness and caring when everyone sits around a table laughing and talking.

(Brenna McPheron, 1 December 2008)

The Magic of Food

As I waited in line to board the bus to go home for Thanksgiving, my friend Elise stopped and chatted with me for a while. A fellow Chinese-American, she asked the mandatory question of whether my family eats turkey or “hot pot” during Thanksgiving. Chuckling at how this question’s frequency has increased over the years, I understandingly responded with the latter choice.

On the fourth Thursday of every November, Americans all over the world gather in a celebration of thanksgiving and gratitude. Norman Rockwell depicted such a holiday best in his painting, “Freedom from Want,” which shows an elderly couple serving a plump turkey to a table of happy relatives, who range from young to old. Thanksgiving is a time that families can forget about their stresses that have built up over the year; it is a time that people can loosen their ties and relax; it is a time when families can reunite and fill houses with warmth and laughter during the cold year-end season. And when a large amount of people get together, there is bound to be a large amount of food! The holiday is widely associated with a large feast that features a turkey as the centerpiece. It is a time when adults throw their diets out the car window while children count down the hours until they can enjoy grandma’s famous stuffing. Thanksgiving is a time to give thanks for all the blessings in our lives.

Ever since elementary school, we have been conditioned to associate Thanksgiving with turkey, but growing up in two cultures, I have learned about how interchangeable turkey is with hot pot on this American holiday. Hot pot is when raw slices of meat, seafood, and vegetables are dipped into a “hot pot” of boiling water at the center of the table until cooked, and then eaten with various sauces. The first couple times I tried explaining such a concept to my non-Asian friends, they came to the conclusion that it was the same thing as fondue. After all, it is when you dip food into a pot in the middle of the table before eating it! It wasn’t until later that I realized “Chinese fondue” is actually a less common name for hot pot! It is usually eaten any time during the winter, with a large group of people.

Upon my arrival at home, however, I quickly learned that we were going to have turkey this year! Filled with excitement, I watched as my mom prepared the turkey. It took many hours, but I guess that’s the price one has to pay to enjoy a truly-American feast! Because my relatives all live in Texas and we couldn’t make it down there this year, we had family friends over instead. It’s interesting to see how much food affects people’s moods, because every single person that walked into our house wore a giant smile on his or her face! The shared anticipation of partaking in a delicious meal seemed to rid everyone of their worries and really brought us all together. Laughter filled the corners of our house and even the quietest people opened their mouths to share their blessings! We all expressed our thanks for one another in some way, be it preparing the food, serving the food, pouring the cider, or cleaning up afterwards, and everyone left our house more filled than when they came – both in their stomachs and hearts.

By default, it seems that holidays are associated with family and family gatherings are associated with food. Food just has the magical effect of lightening spirits and drawing people together, no matter what kind of culture.

(Sang-Ching Lintakoon, 1 December 2008)

Once Upon A Thanksgiving

Nothing brings the family together like food, but even that has stopped working. It’s been a long time since we all got together, no one makes time anymore. This Thanksgiving would be different. Everyone was going to come to our house to enjoy an immense amount of food that my mom was making. Everything was in the works, she was going to make mashed potatoes, corn, green beans, filling, carrots, sweet potatoes, biscuits, and of course, the huge turkey that she had somehow crammed into the oven. Things seemed to be going well, no one had canceled (yet), and the house smelled divine. And then it happened, just when I thought it might be an enjoyable Thanksgiving, at least as enjoyable as it could be when everyone pretends to be happy and care about one another, the phone rang. It was my aunt, when I picked up the phone she sounded too happy and sweet, and I knew that this was the part where something would go wrong. “Hello Aunt Carla, how are you today? We’re looking forward to seeing you for dinner at five.” “Oh, hi there, actually, that’s why I called, your Uncle’s sister came up for Thanksgiving today, and she’d rather not have to go anywhere today, so we’ve decided to have Thanksgiving here. I talked to the rest of the family, and they don’t mind. I have a turkey going in the oven, so if you guys could just bring…” At that point I stopped listening. This sort of thing always happened, and we were always the last ones to get the news. My mom could tell something was wrong, and she just set her knife down and looked at me. She had spent the previous day cleaning the house top to bottom and making sure that she had everything for the meal. It had taken a week and a half to thaw the bird which was now baking in the oven to be ready at 5pm when the family would be here to eat it. I heard my aunt say she had to go and she was sure that if we had already started the turkey we could just heat it up later in the week and then she hung up. I held the phone a little longer, stunned. I didn’t have to say much to convey the conversation to my mom, I had always worn my expressions on my face, and that day was no different. I said, “That was Carla…” “I guess they aren’t coming,” she cut in. “Not just them...” I managed to say before she walked into the living room and sat down. I heard my grandmother from the other room calling my name; I walked out to her room and saw she was wearing her autumn sweater and leaf earrings. She asked me if I could get her a bottle of water to take her pills and said she was excited to have the food mom was making. I didn’t tell her about the phone call and just went to get her some water, when I went into the kitchen my mom had resumed cooking, she looked sad, but it was almost as if she had been expecting such a phone call. I vaguely remembered my aunt saying that we could bring my grandmother along with us (she was my mom’s mother and the family who we were to have Thanksgiving with was my dad’s side). I managed to tell my mom this and she nearly lost it. My grandmother needed to have a handicap accessible bathroom, and we had installed one for her when she moved in with us, but there was no way that she could even get into my aunt’s house, let alone use the bathroom. When my dad heard about the phone call and his family’s decision, he seemed angry and disappointed all at once. This wasn’t the first time it had happened, and we all knew it wouldn’t be the last. The phone rang again, this time my dad answered, “Hello…oh hi mom…we’re fine…no we aren’t going to Carla’s…no that’s ok…we’ve already got everything going…well we’ll see you another time then…ok…bye.” I didn’t know what had happened, when I was little things seemed different; it seemed like the family actually loved each other, but I guess I was just too young to get it. The family had issues, I know everyone does, but I thought that we could set them aside and just enjoy ourselves. Who was I kidding? I made a point of helping my mom more than usual that day, I could tell she was upset, we had so much extra food, though, come to think of it, even if she knew the rest of the family wasn’t coming, she still would have made the same amount of food. As 5pm neared, the mood in the house started to change. It had begun to snow outside, and I had instinctively started to sing a Christmas song, “Can you hear it? The sound of peace on earth, it’s the song of Christmas, celebrate his birth…” My mom joined in, she couldn’t remember all the words, but she was close enough. When my sister came in, she started singing too. “It’s the most wonderful time of the year, with the kids jingle belling and everyone telling you, be of good cheer…” The phone rang again, by that time I had forgotten what had happened a few hours earlier, and with my mom, sister, and even my grandmother singing in the background I answered the phone. “Hello!” “Hi, Aeryn. How are you?” “Oh hey Caroline, I am wonderful. What are you and Henry doing? I thought you were going to your son’s house for Thanksgiving.” “We were supposed to, but something came up, so we’re home.” “Well, why don’t you guys come here? Long story but nobody is coming, and you know you two are always welcome.” I should explain that Caroline and Henry had been our neighbors since I was little, and my sister and I had become good friends with them. I heard Caroline ask Henry if he’d like to have Thanksgiving with us, and he said sure. I told them to come up by five and we’d be ready to eat. I’m not at all certain how the evening went at my aunt’s house, but that was the best Thanksgiving I can remember. It looked like my grandmother was having a contest with Henry to see who could dump the most food on their lap, and there were so many leftovers that we had turkey and filling for another week and a half, but the food had brought together the people that we cared about the most, and those that we knew cared about us. There were no fake smiles that night, and no one cared to judge what anyone else was doing, we just had fun and I can’t remember laughing so hard in all my life. What had looked like a bad day had turned wonderful with a little snow, a little singing, and some good friends to share dinner with.

(Elizabeth Mertz, 1 December 2008)

The Zheng’s Thanksgiving Week

“Food, and New York City,” was all I could think about during the Thanksgiving week. Once I got on the bus ready to head home, I cannot wait to see my family, but most of all to enjoy my Thanksgiving. I cannot wait to gobble down the juicy turkey and all the delicious side. I could picture in my mind that Thanksgiving will be great this year. But, I was wrong. Every story had its conflict and mine would soon come, when it approaches Thanksgiving.
I enjoyed my weekend and Monday, but on Tuesday, I asked my mom for the plan for Thursday. “We will be going to New York City,” she said. In the back of my mind, I keep saying, “Yes.” “Then are we going to eat in a fancy restaurant, ordering a turkey, potatoes, and stuffing?” I asked. “No, we are just going to a normal Chinese restaurant. If it makes you feel better, we could order a duck because Chinese restaurant does not sell turkey,” she replied. Instantaneously after those words, I felt like I was hit by a thousand turkey legs. “What! What do you mean we would not get to eat turkey? Didn’t we plan this ever since last year?” She replied, “Well yea, but our plan has changed. Two of your uncles and their families are going to eat with us and they prefer Chinese.” This time, I screamed like I was ten years old. “Since when did my family and relatives become so racist? What’s wrong eating turkey and other American foods?” “They are not racist. They just don’t like turkey. They also come a long way to New York and they finally want to eat something they like.” After that, our conversation was over and it ruined my Tuesday and Wednesday.
“Finally, it’s Thursday, yea. In case you didn’t notice, I was being sarcastic.” I told my mom. She didn’t reply. We were in the car going to New York City. I don’t feel like shopping and I am not in the mood for anything fun when we arrived in China Town. I can’t help but I keep thinking about how terrible my Thanksgiving Day is. I looked around town and tried to enjoy myself. I went to my favorite Vietnamese restaurant and eat all that I can.
Its dinner time, so we meet up with my uncles and their families. All me cousins have grown so much taller than the last time I saw them. I was glad to see them again. We all walk to the Chinese restaurant and asked for table for twelve. Here I am, sitting with my family and relatives with duck and other Chinese food on the table. Everyone seems to enjoy the food. I just sat there and watched them eat. Then, I have a plan, to enjoy my last Thanksgiving hours. I decided to do something surprising. I want them all to watch me eat instead. So, I jumped up and reach for the duck, which is in the center. I grabbed the whole duck and sat down. Everyone just stared at me in astonishment while I gobbled up the whole duck by myself. Looks like Thanksgiving went by quite well.

(Xiao Yezheng, 1 December 2008)

The Sounds of Chu

When it comes to eating in my family, I would consider it something that defines us as a family. Even though it has become more common for families to dine on their own nowadays, we still try to share our meals with each other as often as possible. At the dinner table is where we share our funny stories, the people who annoyed us that day, our good news and those are the ways of how we stay connected in each other’s lives. We are family after all, not just people who live under the same roof. In my family, we are all different types of “eaters.” What do I mean by that? I will explain how each one of my family member work their way through their plates.
My father, who I call a “swoosh” eater, he makes a “swoosh” sound almost every bite he takes. This would make sense if he was eating a bowl of noodles, spaghetti, or even soup. But this man even makes the “swoosh” sound when he eats meat, don’t ask me how that is possible, but you just have to see him in action. Steak, vegetables, even ice cream. “Swoosh, swoosh, and swoosh.” It’s annoying, but that’s what makes him- him. Without the festive sound, the dinner table would not be the same even though the noise does get on my nerves at times and is especially embarrassing in public.
My sister is a “fast and greedy” eater. She wolfs down everything on her plate as fast as she can that sometimes I think she doesn’t even really taste or chew on them. She picks the food up with her fork then less than a second, it’s in her mouth. Another second, I see her swallowing it down her throat, and then it’s gone forever. Repeated steps of this and 5 minutes later her plate is empty and then the greedy part comes in. After the 5 minutes of intense food swallowing (not food chewing/eating), she then eyes everybody else’s plates. She scans her parameters, then she spots the ones she wants then she looks at you with her puppy eyes and somehow convinces you to give your food to her.
Me on the other hand, I would like to call myself a “steady and dangerous” eater. After sitting down at the table, I look around carefully at all the dishes – what would taste well with what, what I would like to eat first, what I would like to eat more or less. I’m a quite cautious eater come to think about it. I pace myself during the meal, savoring each bite and each taste. After all, eating is for the taste isn’t it? However, this does give me a problem in the end – I always end up eating so much! By eating bit by bit, I get full slower, which makes me put more and more food on the plate, consequently a little weight on as well! I guess there are pros and cons in all types of eating styles.
My mother, on the other hand, is quite boring compared to the rest of us. She sits there and uses her utensils elegantly, barely making any noises (so from the “swoosh”) that I used to think it was an act and then I realized it probably was not after 20 years of her table manners. However, she does have this little thing that she does that I call the “eyeing” trick. After the table is set and everyone has arrived with plates full of her food, she anxiously awaits everyone to take their first bites. She then steals looks of our faces from the corner of her eye for approval, once she gets it, she will start working on her plate.

(Victoria Chu, 1 December 2008)

Anecdotes on The Elephant Vanishes by Murakami

2008-11-21T07:09:00.000-08:00

Aspects of montage and collage

The use of montage and collage in the short story are immediately apparent in the disjuncted plot. The plot is interspersed with tangential reflections and details from the narrator's life. It is also told out of order, such as when the protagonist goes on at great length about the town meeting. Additionally, the story breaks at one point and jumps to a radical, new setting, the narrator's workplace. It is only after some time that the reader is able to create the necessary link that makes sense of the deviation in terms of the larger montage.

Also, the use of collage becomes relevant to subtexts and values of the story. It contributes to metaphorical aspects of the work. A very clear example is found in the notion of the scrap book that the narrator maintains to collect thoughts on the dissapearance of the elephant. The book is full of newspaper clippings about the elephant dramatizing both the narratological method of the short story as well as the way life actually accretes and unfolds, that is, in a non-linear manner. The scrap book, like life itself, is a series of clippings and fragments that it is up to the narrator and readers to gather and organize. The scenes in which the narrator reads the newspaper also conveys this synthetic assemblage of realty. In short, the world must be assembled, cobbled together by the scraps of information that present themselves to us. Drawing on another image in the story, we would like to think that the world is a sparkling a kitchen, designed and organized for precise purposes, full of elements that have set functions working in harmony: toasters and ovens and such. However, even the most pristine kitchen is at root a collage of appliances synthetically gathered to convey a sense of organic, holistic meaning. This, of coure, Murakami refuses to provide in his short story.

Thoughts on social relationships

At hide-and-seek

World after the destruction of meaning

Sleuthing

Parade of objects

Tanka

2008-10-19T14:46:00.000-07:00

On the Beauty Within

Beauty lies within

Often escaping notice

As the slight cocoon

External sights do hide it

And ugliness runs rampant

On Sorrow to Happiness

The moon rises high

Within the deepening night

So bright her soft light

My sorrow fades with her smile

And happiness comes instead

On Christmas

What sweet joy it brings

When on our Savior’s birthday

We bring gifts to Him

Whose son within a manger

Came forth to bear all our sins

On the Seashore

Sunlight warms the face

And sea caresses the skin

Fine company there

Upon the glowing seashore

Where family can gather

On Killing my Orchid L (accidentally)

The orchid grows tall

It’s flowers peer upon me

And sorry I am

Since perishing it does fall

Upon its un-watered base

(Elizabeth Mertz, 19 October 2008)

Waking up so tired
Keep snoozing my alarm clock
Just five more minutes
I keep thinking it over
Until it rings one more time

Sitting in class now
Oh my God this is so long
How long will she talk
Before I zone out again
I hope class will end faster

Stomach is growling
The noise is embarrassing
Hope no one heard it
So hungry what should I eat
I think I want something sweet

Back at it again
Why can’t we just get along
You know I love you
We never used to argue
Baby let’s forget it all

Walking down Pollock
Peeped you from one block away
Damn you look so fly
And your sneakers are so fresh
Why are you anonymous

(Victoria Chu, 19 October 2008)

1) I love PSU
It is the best place on Earth
I met many friends
A time to never forget
The best years of my life

2) I can't wait to go
I'm excited to see
Where my mom is from
And where the grass is real green
Dominican Republic

3) I grew up with them
Friends are important to me
They are like sisters
We went our separate ways
But we still are family

4) Met him my first year
He is a part of my life
Love his company
Love his personality
We love each other a lot

5) I want a puppy
One that is cute and is lovely
Maybe black or brown
Not too small and not too big
I'll treat him like a baby

(Oralis Ramos, 19 October 2008)

There’s someone behind
me, I think it is the beast.
It’s coming up close,
I turn around and notice,
This dark beast, was my shadow.

Computer, Ipod,
The two things I love the most.
Without these, I don’t
Think I can survive, yet I
Can, when new things soon arrive.

I got to tell her,
But I can’t, I just cannot.
What should I do now?
Should I tell? I just can not
Tell my mom about the F!

(XiaoYe Zheng, 19 October 2008)

I look at the snow
falling on the stick-like trees
Tracks of small creatures
denting the soft blanket my
now quiet mind at peace

The leaves change color
and fall gently to the ground
Bright and uplifting
their transformation inspires
me to improve my own self

I feel like Bridal
Du, though I have not met a man
who captured my heart
as Liu captured Bridal Du's
For my Liu has gone away.

(Michelle Ann Dolan, 19 October 2008)

Medical doctor

thoughts flow different from us

queue path to success

path to addiction follows

can you do your best?

The art of shooting

In our new world, War will change

Emotion control

To be in control has changed

Where is Solid Snake? Snake? Snaaaaaaaake!

Invite friend over

Dad thinks I am dating her

Can’t get him to stop

Obsessiveness like a cold

I need to meet new people

(Sebastian Bartholemew Wilkes, 19 October 2008)

I.
morning's light so fresh
and unbroken sings to me
softly and gently
a lover's sweet melody
to bring me into the day

II.
jagged cold autumn
machetes through my body
a path chosen true
to the course of its nature
of a season so untamed

III.
one leaf orange among
those less fortunate than it
will wait for its time
to mature to full status
and die revered on the ground

IV.
a child's blue sky
tells nothing and everything
on her heart as pure
on her mind as polluted
in sad mockery of life

V.
misty air awaits
those who wish to greet its face
taste its breath on tongue
and to once more straightly stand
willing to know the new day

(Jenna Marie Ekdahl, 19 October 2008)

Watching the Game
"don't bother me now!"
--I bite like the sweetest bark--
steadying a vision
always grows into cruelty,
where visions crash crismon

False-start
putting feet to ground
I feel the rush of the run
thighs piston in time
chugging forward, forward
a dream of quickness clunking

Happy toes
feet, our quiestest
selves. made to bend with the mind
now suddenly propped up
bare, cheerful, shedding their ache,
rubbing in pairs, happily

Relax
gen'rally, I need
more time...or maybe less of
it to adjust to
the quiet that requires
I cease searching, for more time.

(Kyle David Anderson, 19 October 2008)

Every crack of dawn,

Hunger strikes lightening fast,

No money for food,

What to do for meals today,

It’s hard living on the streets.

Starting the process,

Was easier than I thought,

As time passes by,

Harder and harder it gets,

In the end, love L Phie E.

I was a player,

Never took the time to care,

Until I met you,

I can not explain,

The way you make me feel now.

As time passes by,

More dependent I become,

Can’t live without it,

I am so lost without it,

Technology is my life.

Eating food all day,

Can not get enough of it,

Eating and eating,

Does not fill the empty void,

This is why I am so sad.

(Michael Kwok, 19 October 2008)

Pu Songling Apocrypha

2008-09-29T10:08:00.000-07:00

The Turquoise Feather

Alexander was a man of Philadelphia who had recently been sent to study at the Pennsylvania State University. He was an intelligent fellow who would often go to study in the Penn State computer labs. Upon his arrival in the Gateway computer lab, he noticed a beautiful woman perched behind the consultant desk. He tried as hard as he could to focus on his school work, but he found himself enamored of the young lady whose hair was of strawberry and whose blue eyes he could not tear himself away from. The consultant was not at all disturbed at his staring, delighting in the attention. By and by, another woman entered the lab and tore Alexander’s attention away from the young lady. Realizing that this other woman was his girlfriend, he had no option but to accompany her out of the lab, though he looked one last time at the lady behind the desk. From then on, Gateway was the only computer lab that Alexander studied in, and soon he worked up the courage to talk to the beautiful woman that had so entrapped his fancy. “My name is Peach,” she said, “I see you here quite often.” “I’m Alexander, and this is my favorite lab to study in,” was his reply. On hearing her speak, the spark of interest that he had in her grew to a great fire, and he found himself constantly searching out her presence. His girlfriend was not pleased, and took it upon herself to get rid of this computer lab consultant. She noticed that many of the men who ventured through the lab became similarly interested in Peach, and decided that some trickery must be involved. She travelled west to speak with a Native American shaman, explaining that this woman seemed to draw men under her spell. The shaman declared that this woman was a ghost searching for her lost lover. He gave the woman a feather telling her to leave it on the ghosts chair so that she could be pacified.

Feather in hand the girlfriend returned to Penn State and placed it upon the ghost’s chair. There she waited for the ghost’s return. When Peach returned to the Gateway lab, she was afraid of the feather, and for a long time she stared at the chair. The sun gleamed through the window and glinted off the turquoise plume, and still she did not move. A noise behind her caused her to turn and see Alexander’s girlfriend. At that moment she was engulfed with rage and, overcoming her fear, she took up the feather from the chair and flung it at the woman who had planned her doom. The feather pierced the girlfriend’s temple, and she crumpled to the floor. At that instant, Alexander entered the room. He saw his girlfriend’s blood oozing onto the floor. The consultant’s features had changed; she was no longer the beautiful strawberry blonde that he had been taken with. Her eyes were puffy as if she had been crying, her hair had gone gray, and she bore the wrinkles of age. He tried to turn and run, but Peach appeared before him, “For years I have waited for the man who could end my restless wandering upon the earth. Why couldn’t you just leave that horrible girl? Now you will join her, and the rest of the people who scorned me.” With that she tore Alexander’s intestines from his gut and strangled him. Then, dragging the bodies from the lab she buried them among the bushes outside. She again donned a girlish figure and took her place behind the consultant’s desk. An intelligent young man entered the lab, and though he tried to focus on his work, he could not take his eyes off of the beautiful woman behind the desk who didn’t mind at all that he was paying so much attention to her.

(Elizabeth Mertz, 28 September 2008)

The Brushes

In a small village, inside a small old house lived Ming Fu and Ah Xin. All the nearby villagers knew them as the happiest lovers. They were two poor orphans, having only one little private gallery shop, selling Ming Fu’s paintings. Ming Fu wanted to take Ah Xin as his wife, but he felt shameful to ask for her permission without any wealth, therefore, he decided to take the upcoming Examination.

Two nights before the examination, Ah Xin went into Ming Fu’s room.

“I have nothing too precious to give you,” she held out a brown wooden writing brush, “this is my grandfather’s, that I now give to you. I believe you can pass the examination!”

“If I do, will you be my wife?” Ah Xin blushed. And realizing what he had said, Ming Fu blushed too.

The young scholars in the village all rushed to see if their names were on the passed list. Ming Fu saw his name on the list!

The wedding ceremony was planned to be on the third week after the list was posted.

Finally the day arrived. Everything was prepared for the new couple and everyone in the small village was invited to attend. Many of the attendants were poor neighbors, so it is was expected for them to show up empty-handed. However, an old man showed up with a wooden box for the new groom. He said to Ming Fu, “I am near my death date now, with no son and grandson, this golden brush is my little gift for you, I believe you will be a good official.” He accepted the gift with gratitude.

In the new (wedding) room, Ming Fu took out a painting and said to Ah Xin, “Thank you for giving me this chance to give you a better life. The night before the examination, all I can think of is you. I wanted to ask for your permission to be my wife even if I didn’t pass, so I drew this painting of you with the lucky brush of yours, thinking it should the dowry. It is not anything expensive but I did put my heart into it. I want to fill in the color with you.” They hung the finished painting in the new room.

Months passed, Ming Fu was extremely busy, always being occupied with cases to resolve. The two spent less and less time together as the days passed. Ming Fu was a great government official, his diligent spirit quickly moved him up to a higher position. Despite this joyful news, Ming Fu and Ah Xin’s world grew further apart.

One chilly spring morning, in the palace, before the king arrived, the officers were gossiping…

“I feel even lonelier these days” Ming Fu chatted with the other officials.

“Why, have you not taken a fair wife?” asked one of the officials.

“I have, but we no longer seem to communicate on the same level.”

“Nothing to worry of, the matter is quite easy to solve, take a concubine,” the official replied with ease.

“Yes, do take another one and you’ll find yourself occupied with fresh beauty! It is very common, I myself have two concubines,” said another official.

“I have four and they blessed me with four sons. My days have never grown lonely after that!”

That night, Ming Fu sat in his library and thought of the officials’ words. Then he shook his head, “Ah Xin is seven months pregnant, our son will solve any loneliness.” He then tried to occupy himself with something. He spotted the box with the golden brush inside and thought, “why not take a painting break.”

Ming Fu opened the hard wooden box and took the golden brush out. Underneath, he found a white slip of paper and read it:

For once only,

I can help you with your wish.

It will only last three months.

Then I will be of no use.

Use wisely.

He was puzzled by these words but he was too distressed to bother with it; Ming Fu trashed the paper, he just want to paint freely.

For five minutes, he couldn’t think of what to paint. “I haven’t painted for so long, now my imagination is fleeting!” Then the officials’ advice came back to bother his mind again. “I can at the very least imagine her.” He thought, and he sets off to paint the fair young girl that he could only imagine to be his concubine. After several hours, the painting was done. Ming Fu yawned, stretched, and accidentally knocked over the black ink bottle. He immediately turned the bottle upright. It spoiled the painting with a black spot near the right of the girl’s chest. Frustrated and disappointed, Ming Fu left the library for his room. After tossing and turning in his bed for quite a while, he went to the library again, hoping to cover up the ink spot with layers of colorful garments.

As he approached the doorway, the door swung open and the beautiful girl he had painted took Ming Fu into the library. He was frightened at first to see his creation come alive and he quickly turned for the door.

“Please don’t leave. I am of no harm!” said the girl. Ming Fu continued inching to the door.

“You created me, where is your responsibility for what you did?” Hearing this, he paused. The girl moved forward, “I am a real person now, I mean no harm.” Ming Fu turned to face her. Now, taking a closer look, he found her to be stunningly beautiful, more beautiful than when she was just a painting on paper. He called her Meng (Dream).

Two days later, Ming Fu took Meng as his concubine. Ah Xin was fairly upset about sharing her husband, but she realized she could not make him smile like she used to be able to, nor could she be a helper to him like she used to be.

Two and a half months passed. Ah Xin was seen smiling more. Ming Fu came home to dinner every night with joy and excitement to hear Meng talk of her wonderful day at the market buying jewelries and cosmetics. Ah Xin was also happier now that she had another companion, although Ming Fu spent more time taking Meng out to play than spending it on his piling cases, while telling Ah Xin, “Our precious son will be ready to meet us soon, you should stay home and let the maids take good care of you.” Meng would add, “Sister, I cannot wait to see my precious baby, take good care!”

On a particular day, however, Ming Fu didn’t take Meng out. He heard some bad news in regards to his position and he needed to hurry to the palace. Ming Fu left the house early. Rushing down the foggy street, he passed by a Daoist priest.

“Young man, you encountered some dirty things. I urge you take this mirror with this strip of yellow paper on it,” warned the priest. Ming Fu ignored him and continued on his way.

"Your child will be in danger!” The priest yelled after him. Ming Fu turned furiously and pointing his index finger at the priest’s chest, said, “My son is not born yet and don’t you curse my son!”

The priest continued with the same calm voice, “Your child will not be born naturally, she will be torn out of her mother’s stomach.”

“What are you babbling about?!” Ming Fu retorted.

“She is beautiful and she wants to be a real human beauty for life. Her only way of avoiding her death date of the third month is to eat the heart and drink the flesh of a pre-born baby girl."

Instantly, Meng’s beautiful face flashed through Ming Fu’s mind. He stole the mirror from the priest and rushed on his way again- towards home.

The maids’, cooks’, and servants’ dead bodies littered the court yard. Ming Fu flung open Ah Xin’s bedroom door to see Meng turn to look up at him, holding the pre-born infant girl near her mouth with Ah Xin lying open-stomached beside her. Meng flashed a pair of glaring green eyes at Ming Fu. Horrified at the site, Ming Fu held the mirror directly at Meng. There was a white array of light and piercing screams; then silence. The white light absorbed the dark black ink into the mirror and it fell onto the ground, shattered.

On the floor lay Ah Xin with her opened stomach, the bloody infant, and the flat painting of the fair girl. Crying profusely while throwing up and shaking simultaneously, Ming Fu burned the painting and prepared for Ah Xin and his baby girl’s burial.

The dead were all buried. Ming Fu, having his high position taken away by the king due to his neglect of the piling cases, dragged himself back to the old house. In his arms were stacks of rolled up paintings .

Seeing the old house, all the happy-old-days-with-Ah-Xin memories filled his mind. His eyes tearing while at the same time smiling, then laughing… then crying again.

At night, when Ming Fu couldn’t fall asleep, he got up and unrolled the painting he gave Ah Xin as a dowry. Looking at the painting of Ah Xin, tears rolled down his cheeks onto the painting. Ming Fu pretended to have a conversation with Ah Xin:

“Remember the night I was having a stressful time studying for the examination, you came into my room with that delicious chicken potato soup and told me with delight, ‘I cooked Abalone and bird’s nest soup to nurture your brain, I expect you to cook the same good stuff for me after you passed the examination!’”

He paused to sob some more.

“I will do anything to taste your chicken potato soup once more. Forgive me for my selfish mistake!”

Ming Fu shouldered back to take a good look at the painting of Ah Xin and saw water rolling down from the painted eyes of Ah Xin. They were her tears.

(Dong Ting Ting, 28 September 2008)

The Lucky Gourd

One day Man Lin went to the market in search of a special medicine to cure his wife of a deadly rash that she had on her arm. He traveled a great distance to reach this market, for it was well known for carrying the best medicine and herbal treatments around. Man Lin and his wife were poor, so it took most of their savings for Man Lin to travel and pay for this herbal medicine. After traveling for days, Man Lin finally arrived at the marketplace. He had never seen anything like it, there were tents filled up with jars and different treatments for any ailment you could think of.

As he was walking, Man Lin was pulled aside by a tiny old man with beady eyes that seemed to flash a hint of red anytime he faced the sun. He told Man Lin, “I am Chi Wei, I know of the trouble that your family is going through and I can help you with what you need. Follow me.” Unsure of whether or not he should trust this little man, he cautiously followed Chi Wei into the back of one of the tents. Chi Wei said, “Your wife is sick, and this gourd right here is the cure for all your troubles. You must keep this gourd in your bedroom and things will happen that you never expected. It will release luck in bursts of a clear gas. You will be rich and your family will be healthy.” Chi Wei took out the gourd which was almost hypnotizing with its colorful pattern. As soon as Man Lin heard that this thing could make him rich, he completely forgot that he traveled so far in search of medicine for his wife. Greed took over him and he was determined to own this magical gourd.

Man Lin, eager to have the gourd in his possession asked what did he need to do in order to have this gourd. Chi Wei informed him that he wanted all of the money that he brought and he must have the magical sword necklace that Man Lin wears around his neck, which is used for protection from ghosts and devils. This is when Man Lin became skeptical. This sword necklace was given to him a long time ago by a priest who told him that the sword would keep the devil and ghost spirits away, which had saved him many times while walking through the graveyard near his home. At this point Man Lin questioned Chi Wei, “If this is really the gourd of luck like you say it is, why wouldn’t you keep it for yourself and enjoy the riches it has to offer?” As if he had been anticipating this question, Chi Wei immediately replied, “I am afraid that the gourd chooses who it wants to honor, and you were chosen. I often dreamt of you and your sick wife who live on the other side of the graveyard. I have been waiting for your arrival for many years now.”

Man Lin was sufficiently convinced by what Chi Wei told him and was now even more eager to take the gourd home with him. He emptied his pockets and with sadness he removed the magical sword necklace. Chi Wei smiled greedily at receiving the money and necklace and gave Man Lin the gourd. They exited the tent, and as Man Lin turned around to thank the little man, but he was already gone.

When he arrived home and showed his wife what he got in place of the medicine. His wife was enraged, “How could you be so foolish! That gourd is the home of the devil. You must get rid of it immediately or you will plague our family and lose your soul to the devil!” Man Lin did not believe his wife and he said he wouldn’t get rid of it. His wife left and vowed that she would not remain in a house with the gourd that kept the soul of the devil. She knew of it from her grandfather who had made the same mistake of purchasing it from a street vendor. The gourd had taken her grandfathers fortune and soul, leaving him a hopeless man who remained paralyzed in his room until his death. Knowing that she would not be able to convince Man Lin to get rid of the gourd, she left the house but left him with these words of advice, “You must get rid of the gourd. The only way to do that is to sell it to another man who will give you a magical sword necklace to keep the spirits away. If not, he will take your soul and continue to plague men all over China.”

Unbelieving of his wife, Man Lin let her leave and slept with the gourd in the living room, just in case. However his greed blinded him and he continued to wait for the riches to come. As the days went by the hypnotizing pattern on the gourd began to change and a clear gas was coming from the gourd. On the third night while Man Lin slept, the gas took over the room and crept into Man Lin’s open mouth. The following day Man Lin noticed that the gourd shrunk to the size of a small plum. “This must mean its working,” he said to himself. Thinking that his wife would return when he was rich he thought nothing of it, when he started to feel less and less like himself. By the end of day six, his soul was gone and his body was left lifeless. The devil succeeded in taking his soul and with his new soul and borrowed body, he went off to market to find someone else to sell the “lucky gourd” to.

(Oralis Ramos, 28 September 2008)

Ning LaiChen and His Wife

Ning LaiChen was an ordinary Chekiang man who was very loving and caring. He had just turned twenty and his family urged him to find a wife quickly. Ning did not want an arranged marriage like the rest of his friends and the towns-people because he believed in love. Besides, he felt that he was not ready to take care of his own family yet.

It was Ning’s goal to start up his own small business before he got married. Therefore, he started to save up money two years ago, when he started his career as a waiter, and estimated that it will take another year for him to have enough to open up a small store. Two months after his birthday, he was awarded with a promotion, as a manager of a restaurant a few miles away from home. He decided to take it because it had an excellent paycheck. He purchased a horse and promised his parents that he would be home every weekend. He started his new job nicely. The workers there loved their new manager because Ning cared for them. When he was there, the business went up so Ning’s paycheck increased. After a few months, Ning earned enough money to begin his lifelong goal. He planned to go home and start up a business.

On his last day of being a manager, Ning saw a girl outside his workplace staring at a table full of food. Just by looking at her, Ning knew that she did not have enough money to buy food. Ning went up to her and asked, “Are you hungry?” “Yes,” she replied. Ning offered her a few plates of food and the girl was very grateful. Ning asked, “What is your name, and where are you from?” “My name is Hsiao Chien,” and then she began to weep. “Why are you crying?” ask Ning. She explained, “Everyone in my whole village died from a great fire. No one survived. Now I have nowhere to go.” Ning feeling sorry for her, told her about his family and offered her to live with them. He brought her home and his parents are delighted to take her in. A few months after, Ning started his own business and fell in love with Hsiao. They got married and their wedding party was one of the best in their hometown.

Seven years had passed, and Ning and Hsiao still didn’t have any children. Ning’s business was doing great, but Ning’s parents only cared about when they will see their grandchildren. They only cared about having a descendant to carry on their family name. Although they rarely mentioned it, Hsiao knew what Ning’s parents were thinking about, after having been with them for so many years.

Hsiao wept one night and when Ning came home from work, he asked her, “What’s wrong?” She didn’t reply and only wept. Ning poured her a cup of tea and waited for her to say something. After a while, Hsiao suddenly said, “I don’t think I can have a child.” Ning asked, “Why not?” feeling somewhat sad. Ning noticed that the Hsiao was struggling with her next few words. “I am a ghost, I died seven years ago.” Ning said in disbelief, “I don’t believe you.” Just after that, Ning noticed how pale Hsiao was, and then, she seemed to be vanishing. Afraid, Ning quickly left the room.

Sitting alone in a dark room, Ning had many flashbacks of all the happy moments he had with his wife. Then he realized what Hsiao had said when they first met. When she said “everyone” had died in her village, she must have included herself! Then Ning thought, “Why was I scared of Hsiao all of a sudden. If she is a ghost, she is still the person I married and had been with me for over seven years. She had never tried to harm me, and only took care of my parents and me.” Ning quickly rush home and found Hsiao in the bedroom. Ning told her, “Whether you are a human or a ghost, you are still my wife and the only one I will ever love.” Hsiao said, “Thank you Ning, that’s all I wanted to hear.” After that, Hsiao vanished, and in her place, was left a baby.

(Xiao Ye Zheng, 28 September 2008)

The Inspector

In the province of Lao She, there was a medicine man named Mr. Chu. Mr. Chu was an honorable and noble person; widely renowned for his good nature. His skill with ancient Chinese medicine carried his good name far and wide. Many of the most important men and women in China would travel long distances for his consultations. He was especially known for his ability to mix his strong knowledge in traditional medicines with new and untested methods from far and wide.

Mr. Chu’s practice was a flourishing one. He would see patients all day, one after the other. While he had many assistants at his practice to help him run his office, he would personally attend to every man, woman, and child that came to him seeking his help. With great care and precision, he would listen to the individual’s problems and determine the appropriate medical steps to take. Only on the rarest of occasions would someone who had received Mr. Chu’s medicine have to come back because they were still ailing from the same sickness.

Because Mr. Chu greatly enjoyed helping other people, his life was a fulfilling and rewarding one, but, there was one problem that he could not seem to cure. Inspector Wong was the health inspector for the region, and was known as a tough rule enforcer. Whenever Inspector Wong would make his weekly visit to the clinic, he would find no problem issuing citations to Mr. Chu for even the slightest infraction. While Mr. Chu was held in the highest regard by the people, Inspector Wong was looked down upon by them. He was seen as vindictive and angry. He always took his dislike of common people out on them whenever he saw fit, frequently keeping the fines he imposed on them for himself.

One day when Mr. Chu was seeing his regular lot of patients, Inspector Wong made a surprise visit. He said, “Mr. Chu, I have this terrible cough that I can’t get rid of. And by the way, this floor is too dirty. That’s going to cost you ten piece of silver. Can you help me?”

Mr. Chu, never willing to let a sick person go untreated, reluctantly agreed to help the Inspector. Even though he never refused his services, he had serious second thoughts about this particular patient. The Inspector had mercilessly fined his practice for ten years now, and every time Mr. Chu took the unwarranted fines in stride. But now the inspector was asking him for his help. Did he not see the strain he had brought on Mr. Chu’s practice? Halfheartedly, Mr. Chu brought Inspector Wong to an examination room, and performed a series of observations. In no time, he had diagnosed the Inspector and had prescribed him some roots to take home and brew into a tea. The Inspector left, promising to return in a couple of days to get another examination.

A week passed with no word from the Inspector and Mr. Chu’s practice carried on its business as usual. Then one day, a member of the town ran into the clinic and asked Mr. Chu if he had heard the news about Inspector Wong. He said he hadn’t, and was told that Inspector had been robbed by bandits on his way home from work and was killed. Mr. Chu, with a practically indistinguishable wry smile on his face, replied “That is one ailment I cannot cure.” From then on, Mr. Chu’s clinic operated without the burden of the Inspector’s inappropriate fines.

(Ryan Nagarkar, 28 September 2008)