Some information!

 

This was written for school, assessment task. Short story, it's suppose to be 600-800 words, I went over way too much already, hence the really quick ending >< Umm, yep. Just thought I'd share with you all!

 

 

 

CC would be appreciated ^^

 

 

 

The Definition of Beauty and Intelligence

 

Joy Kao aka Tenshi

 

 

 

A child can't choose her parents. She knew that. But sometimes she wished she could have chosen, as ungrateful as that sounded to her.

 

 

 

She lifted her chin up to the night sky, resting her head against the pillar behind her and gazing at the empty sky above her. She opened her eyes and saw that a warm glow still emanated from the lights outside the building behind her like a beacon of light, contrasting starkly with the dark night which was ahead of her. A gust of wind blew past, howling like a banshee, and she shivered slightly, as if someone was running their fingers down her back. Her long black hair whipped around her and she shuddered again. She checked her watch; the large neon green numbers glowed 8:00.

 

 

 

It must almost be time to go home. She inhaled as if to summon up the courage to stand up, smelling dampness in the air as she did so. Oh well, it's now or never. She sighed and clambered up, brushing her long dress and sending a cloud of dust into the air. A piece of paper she had forgotten about dislodged and fluttered to the ground. She bent down and picked it up, cringing at what she saw.

 

She shoved the paper into her school bag and stumbled down the long flight of stairs, leaving the light behind her and stepping into the darkness ahead of her.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

"Do you know why we named you Ming-Mei?"

 

 

 

A man in his thirties brushed away a strand of hair from his childÃÆââ¬Å¡Ã¢ââ‰â¢s face and tucked it behind her ear.

 

 

 

"Why, daddy??"

 

 

 

She cocked her head to one side and smiled innocently at him.

 

 

 

"Because you are my wonderful little girl. You will grow up to be my beautiful and intelligent girl, just like you name says about you."

 

 

 

She giggled loudly as he bobbed her up and down on his two legs.

 

 

 

"Beautiful and intelligent." He said again, with a sort of finality in his voice.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

She could hear the television blasting in the living room as she watched warily for any sign of her father. Maybe if I keep out of his way. She mouthed a silent prayer and tiptoed towards the staircase, making as little noise as possible. She could feel the carpet beneath her feet, not warm and soft, but bristly and harsh. The familiar smell of curry chicken wafted out of the kitchen ahead of her. She crept past the open living room door, still treading lightly.

 

 

 

"Ah-"

 

 

 

She tripped on something in the darkness, and as she fell she bit her tongue, trying not to utter any noise.

 

 

 

Too late.

 

 

 

"Ming-Mei? Cheng Ming Mei?"

 

 

 

She seemed to shrink a few inches when she saw her father standing ahead of her.

 

 

 

"Shen me?" What did he want?

 

 

 

"Why are you home so late?" She cringed more as she heard the harshness in his voice.

 

 

 

"I had to study, ba."

 

 

 

"The library closed hours ago. DonÃÆââ¬Å¡Ã¢ââ‰â¢t lie to me!" He limped towards her, the dull thump of his wooden leg beating against the floor.

 

 

 

"You're fifteen already, it's time to stop the lying! I know you don't care about me, but don't lie to your mother! She works so hard to put food on our table and how do you repay her? By lying to her?"

 

 

 

"I'm sorry, ba."

 

 

 

He ignored her.

 

 

 

"Where's your school report?"

 

 

 

Damn.

 

 

 

"In my bag, ba."

 

 

 

"Well, GET IT OUT!" She could tell his temper was rising, so she unzipped her bag with shaking hands, drawing out the paper she had shoved in there earlier. Her dad snatched it out of her hands, and she waited for the explosion. It was as if she could almost see the wick of the bomb fizzling and sputtering inside her fatherÃÆââ¬Å¡Ã¢ââ‰â¢s head as his eyes flicked across the page.

 

 

 

Then it exploded.

 

 

 

"Why do you do this to me, Ming? It was never like this before I left for war. Why have you changed so much?"

 

 

 

Maybe it's you who has changed, daddy.

 

 

 

"Why do you continue to change your marks every single time."

 

 

 

"Bu-"

 

 

 

"Do you think I would believe you are top in the class?"

 

 

 

"I di-"

 

 

 

"I'M NOT STUPID LIKE YOU!"

 

 

 

He crumpled the piece of paper into a ball and threw it at her head. It missed her, and she remained passive, her face as cold and still as a statue. It seemed to infuriate her father more, and he strode towards her.

 

 

 

His hand came from nowhere and slapped her across the face, resulting in a sound that seemed to go on forever to her ears.

 

 

 

"Get up to bed NOW! Until you can admit you have been lying."

 

 

 

She said nothing, but looked for forgiveness in her father's eyes. All she could see was harshness in them; hate, rage and anger had caused his pupils to dilate, the normal light brown of his eyes almost black in the darkness. It gave him a sinister appearance, combined with his prosthetic leg.

 

 

 

"NOW!"

 

 

 

She scrambled to pick up her school bag, taking the ball of paper in her hand quickly before running up the stairs and into her bedroom. She closed the door, taking care not to close it loudly in case it would cause another explosion, and then sprawled out on her bed face first. Her blankets engulfed her body and she felt safe, enclosed by them as if someone was really hugging her and comforting her. Something her dad had not done for such a long timeÃÆââ¬Å¡Ã¢ââ¬Ã¦

 

 

 

She sat up and noticed that she was still clutching the ball of paper.

 

 

 

I'm so sorry dad.

 

 

 

She tried to straighten out the paper, flattening out the creases.

 

 

 

A+, A+, A+, A+, A+ÃÆââ¬Å¡Ã¢ââ¬Ã¦

 

 

 

A single tear rolled down her cheek and splattered onto the paper in front of her. The ink began to run down the page as if it, too, was crying.

 

 

 

I'm not lying.

 

 

 

Another fell.

 

 

 

I've never lied to you before. Especially not about this.

 

 

 

Then another.

 

 

 

Is it that hard to believe I work hard? Why don't you understand.

 

 

 

Then the floodgates opened, and the tears came pouring out.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It was almost 10 pm as Ming-Hong peered into her little sisterÃÆââ¬Å¡Ã¢ââ‰â¢s room. Her sister was reading comics, a small grin lighting up her face every time she laughed. Ming-Hong smiled for her sister.

 

 

 

She was going to be alright.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Ming-Mei lay on her bed peacefully, eyes closed, her lips shaped in a smile and still in her school uniform. An empty glass lay on her bedside table. A glass bottle was tipped over next to it, the remaining contents spilling out onto the table and on the floor.

 

 

 

Outside, the postman was placing a letter in the mail box. It read: To: Mr/Mrs. Cheng. RE:Your daughter's great results

 

 

 

A breeze blew into Ming's bedroom, sending a piece of paper fluttering down to the floor.

 

 

 

It read:

 

 

 

Intelligence can't be measured by numbers and figures. Knowledge is often mistaken for intelligence. Anyone can have knowledge, but how they put it to use is a different story. Perhaps what you believe is intelligence is different to what I believe. I can't be that beautiful and intelligent girl you wished for all those years ago when you named me.

 

 

 

Do not be sad, I'm at a better place for myself now.

 

 

 

I love you daddy. I love you mummy.

 

 

 

Even if you do not love me.

 

 

 

-- Ming ming

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

----------------End.

 

 

 

tenshi-chan

Great story although little confused.

 

Is Ming-Hong the older sister and Ming-Mei the younger?

Yes indeed. XD Ming Hong is the older sister - it doesn't really matter who it is, really. All the reader needs to know is that someone checked up on her, and she seemed fine =]

 

 

 

tenshi-chan

very moving story.

 

 

 

Well written although the ending was a bit short. Short stories are always the hardest to write but you've done a very good job of it!

Thats Sad, and a bit confusing in parts.

 

When I write I tend to unconstiously (or purposfully) including feelings or events similar to what occurs to me. I can't help but wonder, is any of what you wrote similar to your own circumstances or feelings?

great story.....