Fiction: Group 3
She saw me.
She was astounded. “Papa?”
She saw me too.
“My love,” she whispered.
My eyes were blinded with scalding tears. “I’m home.”
She studied my face.
“You are stricken.”
I shook my head.
She reached out her hand and I held it tightly.
“I want to be with you.”
“You are.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
She smiled weakly.
“Beeeeet –”
The electrocardiogram went flat. Her feeble breathing ceased, her head limp on the pillow.
“Noooo!!!!!” I screamed. “It shouldn’t work this way!!! I want to see you alive for one more time! No – I
want
another lifetime
! I want to return to the past!”
“Papa!”
“Honey!”
The setting faded.
I blinked hard. It were them, my beloved wife and daughter. We were on the beach next to the jetty. The
sun was setting over the horizon, and the skies were stained with faint pinks and lavenders and blues. I
grasped their hands and whispered, “Let’s go home. The story has just begun.”
The
miao zhu
stood in front of the Mazu temple, gazing at the family filled with joie de vivre in the
gloaming. She smiled satisfactorily, content with her effort. She heard the plea from another soul.
The story has just begun.
