Nian (Part 2)

Last harvesting season, the inception hit us when we were least expected, when we were most vulnerable. The beast attacked us abruptly, devastated us, left us with the detritus of destruction, the carcass of life stocks, and no soul was gone in this incident.

It was during a day, when routine was the same, the farmers would plough the ground for the crops; mothers would be taking care of the newborns, the toddlers; men would venture into the forest to discover new lands, gather foods, and hunt for some game to supply the village.

I was borned as a female, it could be called as a curse, never a blessing in disguise. The annals of the Chinese culture had a puerile prejudice about female, they deemed us as out casts, weaklings, and never could perform as well as the male. In several occasions where the parents was being the extremist, they would bury their new borned blood-bounded daughter into the damp soil, alive. I was being abhorred, loathed, not only by my biological parents, but also the whole village. Every single soul in the village hated me for no apparent reason, I could not wrap my head around this hackneyed fact.

My mother passed on when she was delivering me into this world full of enmity. My father failed to withstood the grueling reality that granted him a daughter and a dead wife. He committed suicide after the first glance of his newborn daughter and the final look of his deceased wife by slicing his tongue in half, he reckoned that he would be beleaguered by the village because of this idiotic belief. This very day, the village lost an experienced hunter, a decent fighter, and a castaway whom was gone for the betterment of the village. Is that so?

When I was six, I had come of age, understood the nature of the humans of this village in the middle of the province of China. I had the savvy that female were being despised from the tonality and the felicity of other villagers to me. They were rude, indecent, sardonic to me. They treated me as if I was none other than a piece of trash laying on the ground. However, respect became something obscure to me, sparks of decency became abjured, the scarce amount of food for me was a norm to me, the dreary jobs of cleaning were my routine, it was all because I was borned as a female, not deserving a single drop of love and care from anyone.

It has been a credence to me that all of these impediments cast upon me was by fate, I had to accept it as such, and carry on my life. I was named by my mother when she was giving birth to me, in a situation where half of her was being dragged away by death, she dipped her finger in her blood, wrote the syllabus- Xi, unto the ground, besmirched with fresh blood spilled by her. The villagers managed to decipher what her last word was, and named me as such, I was still in oblivion about the intrinsic meaning of my name. Until my brother- Shen, was back from his expedition in search for technologies to enhance the villager’s life when I was approaching the age of one.

Before so, I was nursed and taken care by the female villagers of the same fate out of sympathy that was the most they could give. I was indebted of them. My brother came back, wearied by the death of his parents and the unfruitful excursion. He still took extreme care, and willingly to accredit me as his responsibility. His demeanor was stolid yet joyous, disheveled hair, placid eyes, a long conspicuous scar was drawn across the left part of his face, stout, and with a sense of security and valour.

My brother meant a lot to me, he thought me how to walk, how to talk, how to defend myself, and acted as the beacon of light to me. He was my only hope, and guiding light that I could cling my life on.

Without him, I had nothing, and was nothing.

Nian (Part 1)

Published by zeckrombryan

Hope. Joy. Feelings cloaked as words.

3 thoughts on “Nian (Part 2)

  1. “Xi” and “Shen” put together sounds like the Chinese word for sacrifice? That came to my mind while I was halfway through the story…!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: