William and Sisi's relationship was blooming quickly. William now could relate to the old love cliché of life being in colour rather than a black and white photograph. It was brilliant, and he wondered why before, he had never really given girls a second look.
In fact, Sisi had now moved into William's university accomodation. This was because - in a remarkably similar situation to the deeply missed Chichang - her parents refused to fund her higher education, due to its "blatant ludicrousness". They would have much preferred to fly her out to an American university, wherein she could study at a good medicine school and "actually give something back to society at large, as well as using your English skills". (One of Sisi's traits that William particularly adored was their common fluency in English. It was brilliant if they wanted to say private things to one another in a public place.) However, Sisi was something of a stowaway in William's house - if the university landlord found out that he was being ripped off, there would be big trouble.
One day, William wanted to take Sisi to the Museum for the Development of the Modern Pterygoid - a must for all students of ornithology. However, to his massive disappointment, Sisi had come down with a cold that day; and insisted that he go without her, since she wouldn't want to deprive his extra learning, and much less for him to catch the illness too. William agreed, and at ten o' clock in the morning he got the bus into the inner city.
* * * * *
At about six o' clock in the evening, William came home, shivering and feeling ill. It had rained all day, and he had not dressed appropriately for the weather. It seemed he may as well have stayed home and caught Sisi's cold. As he entered through the door, soaked, he put the kettle on and made himself a cup of hot black tea with tapioca. Absentmindedly, he stuck his hands into the steam rising out of the kettle, wondering how good it would be to have a sauna one day. In fact, he could go to Finland with Sisi and they could experience it together... No. Finland was too close to Sweden, a place Chichang would associate with sadness.
After taking his crow-patterned mug of tea to the sofa and sipping it, William eventually fell asleep. It had been a rather exhausting day.
* * * * *
He awoke, forgetting why he had been on the sofa. Then he checked his watch. Quarter to nine! William scolded himself for napping so long - not really a nap, more like a coma. Now he would be up all night. But then he thought he could hear something in the background of the familiar buzz of the fridge. He tuned in his ears more. Yes, definitely something. Someone. He got up, and could now tell it was somebody laughing. Two voices, two people. Still dazed from his snooze, William made his way over to his bedroom.
He opened the door, and there was a man and a woman - in his bed - both naked (granted the duvet covered most of it). It was pretty obvious why they were emitting sounds of pleasure. William himself began to laugh. What a surreal situation! "I'll come back later," he chuckled.
No sooner had he left the room, shut the door and walked back to the kitchen, did he realise something was not quite right about this. He opened the door.
"....the hell?" William gasped.
Now that he had spoken, the couple turned their heads towards him, their faces the picture of horror. William's stomach lurched as he realised it was his girlfriend, Sisi... his girlfriend, and....
"MIKE FUCKING KEVINSON!" William roared. "Get out of my house, now! What are you doing? Who?... What?... Why?..... Just go -" he sank to his knees and pounded the floor, crying and crying.
By the time William had got up - after about five minutes - the only people left in the room were he and Sisi, who was now wearing a dressing gown and sitting on the bed. Mike Kevinson had apparently disappeared silently
"Why, Sisi? Why did you do it? Why did you lie?"
"I'm sorry, William. You're a guy who's been through a lot. I couldn't hurt your feelings like that."
"What, so you get... this guy who I've looked up to, who saved my life, who disappeared on me... and in my own bed? What the hell is wrong with you?" William picked up a stool, and threw it through the window. It smashed, and Sisi cowered.
"Get out. Find your own place to live, you whore."
Tears started rolling down Sisi's face. "You know I've got nowhe-"
"Didn't you hear me? GET OUT!"
Saturday, 27 December 2008
Friday, 19 December 2008
Relationships: Love Is All You Need
Unaware of Mike Kevinson's plight and subsequent lack of power, William had fallen into a slough of despondancy. He mourned Chichang for a long time. The Chinese History with Ornithology lectures were very lonely, and without a homework buddy William began to lose interest. It is all very well to never have a friend; but once you have had one you realise what it truly means to be alone. So it was that at the end of the year, his marks were falling terribly.
The previously welcome break of the summer holidays was tedious for him. He worked on his Japanese, for lack of any other option, even though it was mostly perfect already. He supposed, when in the mood to analyse himself, that studying Japanese reminded him of that shining light, Mike Kevinson. He wondered what Mike Kevinson had meant when he had mentioned his own bereavement. Who had Mike lost? A friend? A colleague? A parent? William could only guess. He had, of course, lost almost everyone he had ever known. And now there seemed to be another Kevinson-shaped vacancy in his life; where was he on holiday now? Bermuda?
William tried to put these futile thoughts from his mind, but only succeeded in making himself more miserable. "If Chichang were here," He said to himself, "He would know what to do."
However, time, as we have seen before, waits for nothing; not even grief. William had to return to that dreaded academy, where Chichang had spent his idle days painting instead of studying.
This year, he expected once again to be the only person on the course; but as fate would have it, there was one other university in the whole of China that held this particular course. And, as fate would have it, there was a girl at that other university who had decided to transfer to William's place. Imagine his surprise when he saw, not an empty lecture hall, but the face of someone who was not Chichang...!
It was most distressing for him; but once he got over his shock he realised that the girl in question was really quite pretty, and became flustered.
It took him a while; but every time his courage failed him he thought of Chichang, and how disappointed he would have been. That made things easier. And then, one day, he decided on a way to ask Sisi (for that was her name) out. He printed off a list of chat-up lines he found online, and learned them by heart.
"Hey, baby." He said to her at last, the words sounding very strange on the tongue of William Xiu, "If you were words on a page... you'd be what they call fine print."
Sisi, of course, burst out laughing; but rather than reject William, she found him quirky, and made up her mind at once to date him. This made William so very happy that for a moment he even forgot that Chichang was dead.
The previously welcome break of the summer holidays was tedious for him. He worked on his Japanese, for lack of any other option, even though it was mostly perfect already. He supposed, when in the mood to analyse himself, that studying Japanese reminded him of that shining light, Mike Kevinson. He wondered what Mike Kevinson had meant when he had mentioned his own bereavement. Who had Mike lost? A friend? A colleague? A parent? William could only guess. He had, of course, lost almost everyone he had ever known. And now there seemed to be another Kevinson-shaped vacancy in his life; where was he on holiday now? Bermuda?
William tried to put these futile thoughts from his mind, but only succeeded in making himself more miserable. "If Chichang were here," He said to himself, "He would know what to do."
However, time, as we have seen before, waits for nothing; not even grief. William had to return to that dreaded academy, where Chichang had spent his idle days painting instead of studying.
This year, he expected once again to be the only person on the course; but as fate would have it, there was one other university in the whole of China that held this particular course. And, as fate would have it, there was a girl at that other university who had decided to transfer to William's place. Imagine his surprise when he saw, not an empty lecture hall, but the face of someone who was not Chichang...!
It was most distressing for him; but once he got over his shock he realised that the girl in question was really quite pretty, and became flustered.
It took him a while; but every time his courage failed him he thought of Chichang, and how disappointed he would have been. That made things easier. And then, one day, he decided on a way to ask Sisi (for that was her name) out. He printed off a list of chat-up lines he found online, and learned them by heart.
"Hey, baby." He said to her at last, the words sounding very strange on the tongue of William Xiu, "If you were words on a page... you'd be what they call fine print."
Sisi, of course, burst out laughing; but rather than reject William, she found him quirky, and made up her mind at once to date him. This made William so very happy that for a moment he even forgot that Chichang was dead.
Thursday, 11 December 2008
Vexation: Suspicious minds
When William next awoke, he could smell soap and plastic dinners. The smell of the ill.
He was in hospital, and this gave him considerably less freedom.
"Good morning, William," whispered a familiar voice. With pain, William mustered up strength to turn his neck, then he saw it was none other than Mike Kevinson.
"W-what? Why are you here? Where have you been?"
"On vacation in Thailand."
"Okay."
"What happened, then? How did you get here?"
"I don't know," said William, sounding somewhat irritated.
"The truth, please?"
"Look, Mike" - William dared to use the first name of his interrogator - "can't you see that I'm in a fragile state here? My best friend - my only friend at that - has just tragically died. Right next to me! I was there! It could have been me! It... it... it should have been me!" With that, William burst into tears, and vigorously pulled shut the curtain that went around his bed.
Mike Kevinson felt rather remorseful that he had approached this delicate matter so bluntly; for he himself knew bereavement well. From behind the curtain, he said, "I'm really sorry, William. Just tell me everything you know when you're ready, please." Then he walked off to the hospital canteen, to pursue a pretty nurse he had a-spied that morning.
* * *
A couple of days later, back at the police headquarters, Mike Kevinson was sitting in his office smoking a cigar just imported from Cuba by his high school classmate Esteban Fernandez, whilst playing tetris. Suddenly, he got a phonecall.
"Hello, Inspector Mike Kevinson speaking," he tried to sound as professional as possible whilst he lowered the volume on his computer, in order to mask the bleeps from the tetris game, and thus his procrastination.
"Kevinson, have you found out about William Xiu's involvement in that car accident?"
"Yes, I have. The boy says that he was talking about their plans to go into the city later that night, and that Chichang simply got distracted. He also mentioned some.... dark birds, that had congregated in the middle of the road."
"That's all? Sounds pretty legit to me."
"I'm not so sure. I can't fight the feeling that he is trying to hide something."
"Get over here, Kevinson." The chief constable put the phone down.
No sooner had Mike Kevinson reached the chief's office, than he realised he was going to have to do a lot of justification of himself.
"Now, I want to know exactly what it is that you've got against William. He has a flawless personal record, he's a quiet guy... look at this picture, he wouldn't hit a fly. Why is a man of your calibre being so asinine?" The chief referred to a internet news article photo of a grinning William, after having won a district chess championship.
"You seem to be forgetting, sir, that it is often the quiet ones," argued Mike Kevinson, looking at the photo doubtfully. "Even if William did not have malicious intentions, he could still be affected by concussion, or even a mild case of amnesia. I'm just not entirely convinced he's telling the whole truth."
A knock on the door. "Coffee!" said the jovial fat policeman - the same that had examined the case of Albert the bully's death with Mike Kevinson.
"Thanks!" said Mike with a nod.
"So... what's going on here?" the stout policeman asked.
"William Xiu. You know, the one who - "
"Oh yeah. The chief here was telling me about the new William case right now. He said he reckons you -" The chief's facial expression shot darts at him. "I mean.... man, can't you leave the poor boy alone?"
"Not everyone in this world is a fluffy cherub, you know," retorted Mike Kevinson, getting frustrated.
"That's enough," announced the chief, standing up. "I've simply had enough of your suspicions, Inspector Kevinson. You are mad. That is what I said. And do you know what else I'm going to say? You're suspended for six months. That's right. Now leave my office, leave this building, and take your cigars with you."
He was in hospital, and this gave him considerably less freedom.
"Good morning, William," whispered a familiar voice. With pain, William mustered up strength to turn his neck, then he saw it was none other than Mike Kevinson.
"W-what? Why are you here? Where have you been?"
"On vacation in Thailand."
"Okay."
"What happened, then? How did you get here?"
"I don't know," said William, sounding somewhat irritated.
"The truth, please?"
"Look, Mike" - William dared to use the first name of his interrogator - "can't you see that I'm in a fragile state here? My best friend - my only friend at that - has just tragically died. Right next to me! I was there! It could have been me! It... it... it should have been me!" With that, William burst into tears, and vigorously pulled shut the curtain that went around his bed.
Mike Kevinson felt rather remorseful that he had approached this delicate matter so bluntly; for he himself knew bereavement well. From behind the curtain, he said, "I'm really sorry, William. Just tell me everything you know when you're ready, please." Then he walked off to the hospital canteen, to pursue a pretty nurse he had a-spied that morning.
* * *
A couple of days later, back at the police headquarters, Mike Kevinson was sitting in his office smoking a cigar just imported from Cuba by his high school classmate Esteban Fernandez, whilst playing tetris. Suddenly, he got a phonecall.
"Hello, Inspector Mike Kevinson speaking," he tried to sound as professional as possible whilst he lowered the volume on his computer, in order to mask the bleeps from the tetris game, and thus his procrastination.
"Kevinson, have you found out about William Xiu's involvement in that car accident?"
"Yes, I have. The boy says that he was talking about their plans to go into the city later that night, and that Chichang simply got distracted. He also mentioned some.... dark birds, that had congregated in the middle of the road."
"That's all? Sounds pretty legit to me."
"I'm not so sure. I can't fight the feeling that he is trying to hide something."
"Get over here, Kevinson." The chief constable put the phone down.
No sooner had Mike Kevinson reached the chief's office, than he realised he was going to have to do a lot of justification of himself.
"Now, I want to know exactly what it is that you've got against William. He has a flawless personal record, he's a quiet guy... look at this picture, he wouldn't hit a fly. Why is a man of your calibre being so asinine?" The chief referred to a internet news article photo of a grinning William, after having won a district chess championship.
"You seem to be forgetting, sir, that it is often the quiet ones," argued Mike Kevinson, looking at the photo doubtfully. "Even if William did not have malicious intentions, he could still be affected by concussion, or even a mild case of amnesia. I'm just not entirely convinced he's telling the whole truth."
A knock on the door. "Coffee!" said the jovial fat policeman - the same that had examined the case of Albert the bully's death with Mike Kevinson.
"Thanks!" said Mike with a nod.
"So... what's going on here?" the stout policeman asked.
"William Xiu. You know, the one who - "
"Oh yeah. The chief here was telling me about the new William case right now. He said he reckons you -" The chief's facial expression shot darts at him. "I mean.... man, can't you leave the poor boy alone?"
"Not everyone in this world is a fluffy cherub, you know," retorted Mike Kevinson, getting frustrated.
"That's enough," announced the chief, standing up. "I've simply had enough of your suspicions, Inspector Kevinson. You are mad. That is what I said. And do you know what else I'm going to say? You're suspended for six months. That's right. Now leave my office, leave this building, and take your cigars with you."
Saturday, 6 December 2008
Crash: A Terrible Accident
William was certainly delighted with the way his life was going. Not only were his studies going extremely well (and it was already halfway through the year!) , but he had a great friend in Chichang, a good place to live, and lots to occupy his time. This, he thought, was really the way to live. Now he finally knew what he had been missing for all those years, as the other children enjoyed time together instead of studying.
Chichang really was a brilliant artist. One day he promised to paint William's portrait, and William agreed immediately. He had to sit for it for hours, because Chichang liked to paint from life instead of photographs, but in the end it was worth it. The portrait, when it was finished, was magnificent. Chichang portrayed William as a scholar from ancient China (he used their course textbook for inspiration), in traditional robes, with a bird perching on his shoulder and reading what he was writing on a scroll. The likeness was alarming.
William was so pleased that he hung it on his dorm room wall. Things were going great; until one day, Chichang appeared a little more pre-occupied than usual. He asked William if he would like to go for a ride in his car, since it was quite new, and William agreed, thinking it would be nice to see a bit of what was going on outside the university.
They set off very shortly, not needing to take much with them. As they went along, they started to chat about random things, and Chichang seemed to ease up a bit more.
"Do you think I'll ever be a famous artist, William?" He asked whimsically.
William glanced over at him. "Yeah, of course. All you have to do is sell a painting and that's it, everyone will want to buy your stuff when they see it."
"Hmm, I wish I was as optimistic as you." Chichang replied doubtfully. "I'd just really like to achieve my dreams, and I don't know if I can."
"Of course you can!" William mock-punched him on the shoulder (a habit he had picked up from Chichang himself). "You just have to believe in yourself. Isn't that what you're always saying to me?"
Chichang chuckled a bit. "Yes, I suppose you're right. As always."
"I'm glad you know it." William grinned. "So, what are we going to do this weekend?"
"I was thinking we should maybe go to a bar in town? We hardly ever do, and I've heard there's a really great new electro band playing there. They're called Future Artists, I'm sure you'll love them."
"Really?" Now it was William's turn to be doubtful, unfamiliar as he was with the modern music scene. "Well... I'll take your word for it. You know more about these things than I - Chichang - look out!!"
The reason for this outburst was that, as Chichang was looking at William, he had not noticed the flock of birds that had settled onto the road. It was near to the edge of the town, next to a grassy park, and they were searching for grain. Chichang slammed on the breaks, but it was too late; they hit at least three birds on the way through the flock, which had been disguising a large puddle of water just beyond. The puddle in turn was hiding a pothole in the road, and it was these three combined elements that resulted in the car spinning around and over. It landed heavily, upside-down, one wheel still spinning long after it had come to a rest.
Dazed and confused by the impact, William stirred slowly, feeling a few shallow cuts on his face from the shattered windscreen. He tugged at his seat belt, and it came off easily, landing him on what had been the roof of the car. He looked back at Chichang, and tried to pull on his sleeve, but Chichang made no reply. William noticed that there was blood on Chichang's temple, and a little trickle that had come from his mouth. Horrified, William checked for a pulse, but could not find one. He was too shocked even to cry. His whole body ached from his own injuries, and he was dizzy from flipping over, and everything seemed very strange and distressing. With a slight whimper, William fainted, and that was all he knew for a long time.
Chichang really was a brilliant artist. One day he promised to paint William's portrait, and William agreed immediately. He had to sit for it for hours, because Chichang liked to paint from life instead of photographs, but in the end it was worth it. The portrait, when it was finished, was magnificent. Chichang portrayed William as a scholar from ancient China (he used their course textbook for inspiration), in traditional robes, with a bird perching on his shoulder and reading what he was writing on a scroll. The likeness was alarming.
William was so pleased that he hung it on his dorm room wall. Things were going great; until one day, Chichang appeared a little more pre-occupied than usual. He asked William if he would like to go for a ride in his car, since it was quite new, and William agreed, thinking it would be nice to see a bit of what was going on outside the university.
They set off very shortly, not needing to take much with them. As they went along, they started to chat about random things, and Chichang seemed to ease up a bit more.
"Do you think I'll ever be a famous artist, William?" He asked whimsically.
William glanced over at him. "Yeah, of course. All you have to do is sell a painting and that's it, everyone will want to buy your stuff when they see it."
"Hmm, I wish I was as optimistic as you." Chichang replied doubtfully. "I'd just really like to achieve my dreams, and I don't know if I can."
"Of course you can!" William mock-punched him on the shoulder (a habit he had picked up from Chichang himself). "You just have to believe in yourself. Isn't that what you're always saying to me?"
Chichang chuckled a bit. "Yes, I suppose you're right. As always."
"I'm glad you know it." William grinned. "So, what are we going to do this weekend?"
"I was thinking we should maybe go to a bar in town? We hardly ever do, and I've heard there's a really great new electro band playing there. They're called Future Artists, I'm sure you'll love them."
"Really?" Now it was William's turn to be doubtful, unfamiliar as he was with the modern music scene. "Well... I'll take your word for it. You know more about these things than I - Chichang - look out!!"
The reason for this outburst was that, as Chichang was looking at William, he had not noticed the flock of birds that had settled onto the road. It was near to the edge of the town, next to a grassy park, and they were searching for grain. Chichang slammed on the breaks, but it was too late; they hit at least three birds on the way through the flock, which had been disguising a large puddle of water just beyond. The puddle in turn was hiding a pothole in the road, and it was these three combined elements that resulted in the car spinning around and over. It landed heavily, upside-down, one wheel still spinning long after it had come to a rest.
Dazed and confused by the impact, William stirred slowly, feeling a few shallow cuts on his face from the shattered windscreen. He tugged at his seat belt, and it came off easily, landing him on what had been the roof of the car. He looked back at Chichang, and tried to pull on his sleeve, but Chichang made no reply. William noticed that there was blood on Chichang's temple, and a little trickle that had come from his mouth. Horrified, William checked for a pulse, but could not find one. He was too shocked even to cry. His whole body ached from his own injuries, and he was dizzy from flipping over, and everything seemed very strange and distressing. With a slight whimper, William fainted, and that was all he knew for a long time.
Thursday, 27 November 2008
Chichang: Friendship is golden
"...make yourself comfortable," said Chichang. "Ever since I was young, I knew that painting was the only thing I wanted to do. It was a compulsion, in a way. If you don't believe me, check this out."
Chichang got up, and went over to his dorm's cupboard. From it, he pulled out a large, black folder. He unzipped it, and revealed a stack of what were obviously exquisite art pieces. He put one sheet out onto the table in front of them. William reached out his hand to pick of the shard of glass. To his disdain, he could not do it - for it was nothing but a painting.
"Wow," he gasped, "you weren't lying."
It was clear that Chichang was trying his utmost to remain modest, yet he could not help but let a slightly proud smirk escape.
"Why didn't you go to art school? Are you actually interested in Chinese History and Ornithology, more than following your talent?"
"I don't know, William. I really don't. How much more of my past are you willing to take in?"
"I've got all the time in the world, it's okay. I'll just get us some tea."
When William came back from the kitchen carrying two steaming cups - his balance perfect from his waitering days - Chichang was sitting at his desk, and quickly closed his laptop when he saw William. He indicated at the other chair, for him to sit on.
"So... I was applying for art school, at the end of last August. I wanted to have first priority for a place, and I'd begun to create a portfolio two years prior. And, well, at the same time, I met this amazing girl. Soraja." He flinched at the mention of her name. Then he opened up his laptop to reveal a picture of two people - a girl with the blondest hair and the whitest skin that William had ever seen, and a boy who looked exactly like Chichang, but with slightly shorter hair - with dazzling smiles of genuine happiness.
"She was from Sweden," Chichang added. "Her father was a famous architect, and moved the family to Taiwan, whilst he renovated our city."
"She has nice bone structure," commented William, then looked down quickly.
"Yeah? Well. Bone structure isn't much good when you're boyfriend's trying to get into a prestigious university, is it?" Chichang sounded bitter.
"How so?" asked William, who still hadn't latched onto the fact that they were about to go into sensitive territory, having never had any contact with the world of relationships himself.
"I was creating my portfolio and... I was spending far too much time with her. I know that now, in retrospect. As I did so, the quality of my work declined. My father told me that I wasn't good enough for art school. This made me so angry, because I knew I was capable, it was all I lived for, apart from Soraja. And at the time, I really thought I was putting my all into it. But that... man told me that I was hopeless, that I was wasting my time. I hated it, I felt lost, art was like my guiding light." Chichang gulped.
Luckily, William had realised by this time that his friend was struggling to tell him everything, so he did not attempt to force him to continue. But clearly, Chichang trusted him enough.
"I started to take it out on Soraja."
William was utterly taken aback. This seemingly pleasant boy, a violent woman-beater? He was lost for words.
"You know... I stole her father's money. Whenever I spent the night there, and the house was dark. He just left it laying around. And then Soraja would get blamed. I know it's terrible, but I've put it behind me now. All I ask is that you don't judge me."
"Okay, Chichang," he replied, with a deep breath. His main thought was one of relief, that he was glad Chichang had not been hitting his girlfriend. "But what happened? Did you get found out?"
"I had to confess eventually She was so hysterical that... that she freaking took an overdose, William. And now she's living back in Linköping. Far away from here, which is the best thing for everyone. I am so thankful that she recovered, but I don't dare contact her again. For one thing, her father would absolutely massacre me."
William bit his lip, and was unsure whether to put his arm around Chichang or not, in order to comfort him. He decided against it. Instead, he swore in Chinese, Japanese, and English. Then he proceeded to say one thing:
"If you don't mind me asking, what has all that got to do with the fact you're here?"
He knew, a few seconds afterwards, that that sentence must have sounded quite rude and hurtful, and he felt immediately remorseful.
However, Chichang appeared unfazed. "Well... after that debacle, and when I was at my lowest, I looked at my portfolio work and I could see that it really was mediocre since I had been with Soraja. I had failed myself, and my father too. Thus, I decided to erase that part of myself, and to spite him - "
"So, you took Chinese History with Ornithology? The most ridiculous course in the world?" asked William, grinning.
"Yeah. Exactly right!"
They both broke into progressive sniggers, spilling their tea in the process.
Of course William had already told Chichang of his life - at least, all he knew of it - and so they were both at an optimum level of friendship. William's happiness of finding someone with whom he could share both laughter and tears, was immense.
Chichang got up, and went over to his dorm's cupboard. From it, he pulled out a large, black folder. He unzipped it, and revealed a stack of what were obviously exquisite art pieces. He put one sheet out onto the table in front of them. William reached out his hand to pick of the shard of glass. To his disdain, he could not do it - for it was nothing but a painting.
"Wow," he gasped, "you weren't lying."
It was clear that Chichang was trying his utmost to remain modest, yet he could not help but let a slightly proud smirk escape.
"Why didn't you go to art school? Are you actually interested in Chinese History and Ornithology, more than following your talent?"
"I don't know, William. I really don't. How much more of my past are you willing to take in?"
"I've got all the time in the world, it's okay. I'll just get us some tea."
When William came back from the kitchen carrying two steaming cups - his balance perfect from his waitering days - Chichang was sitting at his desk, and quickly closed his laptop when he saw William. He indicated at the other chair, for him to sit on.
"So... I was applying for art school, at the end of last August. I wanted to have first priority for a place, and I'd begun to create a portfolio two years prior. And, well, at the same time, I met this amazing girl. Soraja." He flinched at the mention of her name. Then he opened up his laptop to reveal a picture of two people - a girl with the blondest hair and the whitest skin that William had ever seen, and a boy who looked exactly like Chichang, but with slightly shorter hair - with dazzling smiles of genuine happiness.
"She was from Sweden," Chichang added. "Her father was a famous architect, and moved the family to Taiwan, whilst he renovated our city."
"She has nice bone structure," commented William, then looked down quickly.
"Yeah? Well. Bone structure isn't much good when you're boyfriend's trying to get into a prestigious university, is it?" Chichang sounded bitter.
"How so?" asked William, who still hadn't latched onto the fact that they were about to go into sensitive territory, having never had any contact with the world of relationships himself.
"I was creating my portfolio and... I was spending far too much time with her. I know that now, in retrospect. As I did so, the quality of my work declined. My father told me that I wasn't good enough for art school. This made me so angry, because I knew I was capable, it was all I lived for, apart from Soraja. And at the time, I really thought I was putting my all into it. But that... man told me that I was hopeless, that I was wasting my time. I hated it, I felt lost, art was like my guiding light." Chichang gulped.
Luckily, William had realised by this time that his friend was struggling to tell him everything, so he did not attempt to force him to continue. But clearly, Chichang trusted him enough.
"I started to take it out on Soraja."
William was utterly taken aback. This seemingly pleasant boy, a violent woman-beater? He was lost for words.
"You know... I stole her father's money. Whenever I spent the night there, and the house was dark. He just left it laying around. And then Soraja would get blamed. I know it's terrible, but I've put it behind me now. All I ask is that you don't judge me."
"Okay, Chichang," he replied, with a deep breath. His main thought was one of relief, that he was glad Chichang had not been hitting his girlfriend. "But what happened? Did you get found out?"
"I had to confess eventually She was so hysterical that... that she freaking took an overdose, William. And now she's living back in Linköping. Far away from here, which is the best thing for everyone. I am so thankful that she recovered, but I don't dare contact her again. For one thing, her father would absolutely massacre me."
William bit his lip, and was unsure whether to put his arm around Chichang or not, in order to comfort him. He decided against it. Instead, he swore in Chinese, Japanese, and English. Then he proceeded to say one thing:
"If you don't mind me asking, what has all that got to do with the fact you're here?"
He knew, a few seconds afterwards, that that sentence must have sounded quite rude and hurtful, and he felt immediately remorseful.
However, Chichang appeared unfazed. "Well... after that debacle, and when I was at my lowest, I looked at my portfolio work and I could see that it really was mediocre since I had been with Soraja. I had failed myself, and my father too. Thus, I decided to erase that part of myself, and to spite him - "
"So, you took Chinese History with Ornithology? The most ridiculous course in the world?" asked William, grinning.
"Yeah. Exactly right!"
They both broke into progressive sniggers, spilling their tea in the process.
Of course William had already told Chichang of his life - at least, all he knew of it - and so they were both at an optimum level of friendship. William's happiness of finding someone with whom he could share both laughter and tears, was immense.
Wednesday, 19 November 2008
University: A First Time For Everything
Now, at the correct age and time, William began his foray into the world of higher education. Having spent a useful year working in the restaurant and saving up, he was able to afford his very own house as well as paying for university fees from his remaining inheritance money. The university was right there in Taiwan, and what's more, it did exactly the course that had caught his eye.
You see, William was not like other students. He found Maths boring, and Science dull. He didn't see the point in studying music or film, and he was already fluent in his two other languages; he didn't need a degree to tell him that. Instead he applied for a very under-subscribed course, and got in very easily with his excellent grades and spotless record.
He arrived on his first day at the correct lecture theatre, and took a seat in the middle of the room. He didn't want to sit at the back - too far away - or at the front - too nerdy - but the middle was just fine. However, he waited and waited and waited, but no one else showed up. He wondered if arriving fifteen minutes before the lecture was too early. Perhaps he had the wrong room; he checked, but no, it seemed he was in the right place.
He was just about to give up when something at last happened to give him hope: another student walked into the room. He was a good height, with clear eyes and stylish hair, and a long brown-and-grey striped scarf wrapped around his neck. Inexplicably, there was a pencil behind his ear. His shirt was orange. He looked around, quizzically, and since there was no one else, he took the seat next to William.
"Hello." He said.
William was astonished; he looked around for someone else he hadn't noticed or some sort of trick, but on further reflection it seemed the boy really was addressing him. "H... Hello..." He replied, hesitantly.
"You're here for the course, right? Chinese History with Ornithology."
"Yes, that's right." William agreed.
"I'm Chichang. Yilan." The boy said. "So, what's your name?"
"William."
"William? Not very Chinese, is it?"
"Yes, I know." William sighed.
This, believe it or not, was the beginning of a very beautiful and strong friendship. William had never had a friend before, so it was very exciting for him to finally have one. He and Chichang were the only people on the course, and their professor was quite nice, so they spent a lot of time together and had fun every day. They even went shopping together, although William was very careful to check his bag every time he left a shop, just in case he was arrested by Mike Kevinson again. However, these fears seemed to be ungrounded - since he had become friends with Chichang, Mike Kevinson had been nowhere to be seen. William wondered if he was getting in trouble less because Mike Kevinson was not there, or whether Mike Kevinson was not there because he was getting into trouble less. A truly mysterious question.
One day, during a particularly challenging assignment, William buried his head in his hands and let out a long groan, unsure of how he could finish it.
"Hey friend, what's up?" Chichang asked.
"Oh, it's just this work. I'm smart, but this is too hard." William said.
"Just perservere." Chichang said, clapping him on the shoulder. "You know, whenever I come up against something I can't beat, I just keep trying. Maybe I'll need help or maybe I'll have to start again, but I always keep trying until I beat it."
"Really? You've come up against a lot of hard times, then?" William asked.
"Well..." Chichang sighed. "Let me tell you about my life."
You see, William was not like other students. He found Maths boring, and Science dull. He didn't see the point in studying music or film, and he was already fluent in his two other languages; he didn't need a degree to tell him that. Instead he applied for a very under-subscribed course, and got in very easily with his excellent grades and spotless record.
He arrived on his first day at the correct lecture theatre, and took a seat in the middle of the room. He didn't want to sit at the back - too far away - or at the front - too nerdy - but the middle was just fine. However, he waited and waited and waited, but no one else showed up. He wondered if arriving fifteen minutes before the lecture was too early. Perhaps he had the wrong room; he checked, but no, it seemed he was in the right place.
He was just about to give up when something at last happened to give him hope: another student walked into the room. He was a good height, with clear eyes and stylish hair, and a long brown-and-grey striped scarf wrapped around his neck. Inexplicably, there was a pencil behind his ear. His shirt was orange. He looked around, quizzically, and since there was no one else, he took the seat next to William.
"Hello." He said.
William was astonished; he looked around for someone else he hadn't noticed or some sort of trick, but on further reflection it seemed the boy really was addressing him. "H... Hello..." He replied, hesitantly.
"You're here for the course, right? Chinese History with Ornithology."
"Yes, that's right." William agreed.
"I'm Chichang. Yilan." The boy said. "So, what's your name?"
"William."
"William? Not very Chinese, is it?"
"Yes, I know." William sighed.
This, believe it or not, was the beginning of a very beautiful and strong friendship. William had never had a friend before, so it was very exciting for him to finally have one. He and Chichang were the only people on the course, and their professor was quite nice, so they spent a lot of time together and had fun every day. They even went shopping together, although William was very careful to check his bag every time he left a shop, just in case he was arrested by Mike Kevinson again. However, these fears seemed to be ungrounded - since he had become friends with Chichang, Mike Kevinson had been nowhere to be seen. William wondered if he was getting in trouble less because Mike Kevinson was not there, or whether Mike Kevinson was not there because he was getting into trouble less. A truly mysterious question.
One day, during a particularly challenging assignment, William buried his head in his hands and let out a long groan, unsure of how he could finish it.
"Hey friend, what's up?" Chichang asked.
"Oh, it's just this work. I'm smart, but this is too hard." William said.
"Just perservere." Chichang said, clapping him on the shoulder. "You know, whenever I come up against something I can't beat, I just keep trying. Maybe I'll need help or maybe I'll have to start again, but I always keep trying until I beat it."
"Really? You've come up against a lot of hard times, then?" William asked.
"Well..." Chichang sighed. "Let me tell you about my life."
Saturday, 15 November 2008
Arrest: William's brush with the gavel and block
With his new wages from his waiting job, William decided to treat himself to a lone shopping trip in Taipei.
In the bustling street - for it was nearing New Year - William passed a shop named "Soap 'n' Dope". It looked like quite a new establishment, and so William was naturally intrigued, since his trade had made him now quite the expert in business prospects. Upon entry, he was confronted by a pungence of cinnamon and oranges, and atmospheric panpipes music. William didn't know where to look, for the whole place was just so vivid, a mêlée of scents, flavours and colours.
What caught his eye was not the stack of beautiful - albeit terrifying - carved bird-shaped soaps, but the abominable price tags on them. Seven hundred Taiwanese dollars, for just one?!
After bumping into a grumbling old woman, hastily apologising, then hearing a clutter from above, he left the shop - but not before security alarms sounded.
William felt a twinge in his stomach when a guard grabbed him by the shoulders and said, "If you'd like to follow me, young man." William didn't like to at all, and he noticed the same old woman scrutinising him, and calling - presumably - the police.
In the small room at the back of the shop, William sat on a cold, hard chair, that reminded him of his changing-room schooldays.
"I hope you're pleased with yourself. What will your parents say?" snapped the old woman.
William's eyes welled up. This was the first time since his father died that his thoughts had even touched on the theme of parents in the conventional sense; it occurred to him that he had never even met his mother. Suddenly these thoughts became too much to bear. "I don't have any, you bitch," he replied spitefully.
The old woman, unmoved, continued, "Even so - it is not exactly a thing to be proud of, having this in your bag, without paying." With that, she pulled out a transparent plastic bag, half-filled with about five grams of pink glitter.
"What," asked William, dumbfounded, "is that?"
"Soapy Dope - the original. A kind of holy grail, if you will."
"Pardon?"
"You know what I mean. Five centuries old, held in the very hands of Da-Xia and Bohai. Why wouldn't a little pilferer like you want it? Its name cheapened, sold on the black market." She shuddered at this thought.
William was about to make another vain attempt at insisting against these accusations, when the door was flung wide open.
Inspector Mike Kevinson.
"What seems to be the problem here, Anming?"
"I've just apprehended a young thief."
When Mike's eyes fell upon William, he took the cigarette out of his mouth, and his eyes appeared to glow. "Hello William. In a spot of a bother yet again?"
Anming frowned. "You mean, he makes a regular habit of this?"
She was ignored.
"It would appear so," said William, shyly. He didn't care about this supposed crime anymore. He was now just very confused as to why Mike Kevinson happened to be in Taiwan, where he was.
"These accusations, Anming... you're absolutely sure it was William?"
"Yes. The scoundrel."
"May I look at your CCTV tapes?"
"Why?"
Mike deliberately breathed smoke into her direction. The smell of it clashed with the sweet overwhelming fumes of the stock. "Evidence..."
"Very well, then."
Mike Kevinson took the tape - recorded from half an hour ago - from the archives, and slotted it into the machine. After some fast-forwarding through a cartoon about what appeared to be green condom-shaped creatures, he found the approximate time. "Right, here we are."
From where he was sitting, William could not really tell what was going on on the tiny screen, so he just remained patiently. What he could see, however, was that Mike was watching it several times over. On the fourth time, he flinched, and just stared blankly at the wall until the tape was finished.
"Is everything okay, sir?" William still felt humbled in Mike Kevinson's presence, even though he himself was a man too, now.
"Yeah..." Mike didn't sound convincing at all. "Well - the good news is this. You're free to go, William. What is shown here, is that your apparent theft was merely an accident. You see, these Soapy Dopes" - he hushed his voice to a whisper - "which, by the way, are not at all authentic, and there is no evidence to prove the Da-Xia and Bohai story is more than a legend. None at all." He scratched his lip, looked away, then got out a cigarette from his leather jacket pocket. William was surprised to see that he was using a match to light it. After taking the first, liberating inhalation, Mike raised his voice to a regular tone again. "Anyway, these Soapy Dopes were hanging from the rafters of this establishment. The footage here indicates that a... a crow flew in here, knocking one of the bags off, and by pure... coincidence, fell into your bag."
William felt somewhat unnerved, that calm and collected Mike Kevinson seemed as if he was losing his cool. He was losing his status as a figurehead of confidence.
"What? The boy goes free?" Anming chirped up suddenly.
"Yes. No charges against him this time."
In the bustling street - for it was nearing New Year - William passed a shop named "Soap 'n' Dope". It looked like quite a new establishment, and so William was naturally intrigued, since his trade had made him now quite the expert in business prospects. Upon entry, he was confronted by a pungence of cinnamon and oranges, and atmospheric panpipes music. William didn't know where to look, for the whole place was just so vivid, a mêlée of scents, flavours and colours.
What caught his eye was not the stack of beautiful - albeit terrifying - carved bird-shaped soaps, but the abominable price tags on them. Seven hundred Taiwanese dollars, for just one?!
After bumping into a grumbling old woman, hastily apologising, then hearing a clutter from above, he left the shop - but not before security alarms sounded.
William felt a twinge in his stomach when a guard grabbed him by the shoulders and said, "If you'd like to follow me, young man." William didn't like to at all, and he noticed the same old woman scrutinising him, and calling - presumably - the police.
In the small room at the back of the shop, William sat on a cold, hard chair, that reminded him of his changing-room schooldays.
"I hope you're pleased with yourself. What will your parents say?" snapped the old woman.
William's eyes welled up. This was the first time since his father died that his thoughts had even touched on the theme of parents in the conventional sense; it occurred to him that he had never even met his mother. Suddenly these thoughts became too much to bear. "I don't have any, you bitch," he replied spitefully.
The old woman, unmoved, continued, "Even so - it is not exactly a thing to be proud of, having this in your bag, without paying." With that, she pulled out a transparent plastic bag, half-filled with about five grams of pink glitter.
"What," asked William, dumbfounded, "is that?"
"Soapy Dope - the original. A kind of holy grail, if you will."
"Pardon?"
"You know what I mean. Five centuries old, held in the very hands of Da-Xia and Bohai. Why wouldn't a little pilferer like you want it? Its name cheapened, sold on the black market." She shuddered at this thought.
William was about to make another vain attempt at insisting against these accusations, when the door was flung wide open.
Inspector Mike Kevinson.
"What seems to be the problem here, Anming?"
"I've just apprehended a young thief."
When Mike's eyes fell upon William, he took the cigarette out of his mouth, and his eyes appeared to glow. "Hello William. In a spot of a bother yet again?"
Anming frowned. "You mean, he makes a regular habit of this?"
She was ignored.
"It would appear so," said William, shyly. He didn't care about this supposed crime anymore. He was now just very confused as to why Mike Kevinson happened to be in Taiwan, where he was.
"These accusations, Anming... you're absolutely sure it was William?"
"Yes. The scoundrel."
"May I look at your CCTV tapes?"
"Why?"
Mike deliberately breathed smoke into her direction. The smell of it clashed with the sweet overwhelming fumes of the stock. "Evidence..."
"Very well, then."
Mike Kevinson took the tape - recorded from half an hour ago - from the archives, and slotted it into the machine. After some fast-forwarding through a cartoon about what appeared to be green condom-shaped creatures, he found the approximate time. "Right, here we are."
From where he was sitting, William could not really tell what was going on on the tiny screen, so he just remained patiently. What he could see, however, was that Mike was watching it several times over. On the fourth time, he flinched, and just stared blankly at the wall until the tape was finished.
"Is everything okay, sir?" William still felt humbled in Mike Kevinson's presence, even though he himself was a man too, now.
"Yeah..." Mike didn't sound convincing at all. "Well - the good news is this. You're free to go, William. What is shown here, is that your apparent theft was merely an accident. You see, these Soapy Dopes" - he hushed his voice to a whisper - "which, by the way, are not at all authentic, and there is no evidence to prove the Da-Xia and Bohai story is more than a legend. None at all." He scratched his lip, looked away, then got out a cigarette from his leather jacket pocket. William was surprised to see that he was using a match to light it. After taking the first, liberating inhalation, Mike raised his voice to a regular tone again. "Anyway, these Soapy Dopes were hanging from the rafters of this establishment. The footage here indicates that a... a crow flew in here, knocking one of the bags off, and by pure... coincidence, fell into your bag."
William felt somewhat unnerved, that calm and collected Mike Kevinson seemed as if he was losing his cool. He was losing his status as a figurehead of confidence.
"What? The boy goes free?" Anming chirped up suddenly.
"Yes. No charges against him this time."
Tuesday, 4 November 2008
Eighteen: A Very Special Year
Once the trauma of the whole black feather incident was behind him, William joyously awoke one morning to discover that he was eighteen years old. He had already completed all of his exams, one year early, in the hope that he would be permitted to leave as soon as he was done; and done he was. He had scored full marks in both Chinese and Japanese, and his English grades were top scores; not to mention the fact that his other subjects all recieved the highest grade possible. His school years had been a success; not only that, but he had now come into his inheritance!
Unfortunately, thanks to his father's wilful ways with money and the last few months of illness, there wasn't really that much of an inheritance - everything of value had to be sold to pay off the debts that had accumulated, not to mention lawyer's fees, and after that all that was left was the house. Although it was a rather large, picturesque house, and the site of at least one good childhood memory, William soon discovered that it was impossible to live in such a grand house and pay all the bills without a job, car, or furniture of any great value. Thus it was he decided to sell the house, and move closer to Taiwan (for no greater reason than that he fancied a change of scenery).
So, young William, now a man for the first time, laid his plans: he would take a gap year, find a job (hopefully in a restaurant, since he liked the idea of serving), save up a lot, and then after that go to the local university. It was quite a good university, and the only one in China that could offer him his chosen subject - but more on that later.
Now that the financial matters were under way, William, having found the perfect house for himself, set out to find a job. He went around all the restaurants, cafes and general serveries of his new hometown, dropping off CVs like there was no tomorrow. Or rather a very long string of tomorrows, all of which needed paying for.
This done, he went home and patiently waited for several days, watching anime over the internet and rereading the entire Death Note saga. Eventually, just when he had decided to try again, the phone rang. Knowing that this could only be either a telemarketing call or an interview offer, he jumped to his feet and had the phone to his ear before the third ring.
"Hello? Mr... William Xu?" The voice at the other end of the phone asked, clearly reading his name from a sheet.
"Yes, that's me."
"Ah, hello. I'm calling from a local restaurant that you applied to for a full-time job, 乌鸦 (Wuya Foods). We would like to let you know that your application has been accepted, and if you could come in for an interview this next friday we would really like to speak to you."
"Ah! Thank you!" William replied, overcome with happiness. Now, for the very first time in his life, someone was giving him a chance.
When he got to the interview that friday, he was pleased to hear from the manager that they were a very strong business, and needed to take on extra staff to cope with the amount of customers they now recieved in the evenings. He showed himself to be willing and eager, and intelligent; but for William this was not enough. He had never been a popular boy and now was no exception. It seemed he was cursed; without being able to say why, the manager had an instinctive distrust of William and everything he said. All his references (old teachers, for the most part) seemed good, and his grades certainly spoke for themselves; but all the same, to the manager, employing William seemed somehow a bit of a risk...
"So, William," He said, to conclude the interview, "Is there anything else you'd like to bring to our attention? Something that qualifies you more than anyone else?"
"Yes, actually." William said smartly, having prepared himself for this question. I believe that, with the town being in such a central location, you have a great need for a translator."
"A translator?" The manager asked, unable to believe his ears.
"Yes." William responded solemnly. "You see, I am fluent in Chinese, Japanese, AND English. Now, if there are any customers from a different country, chances are I will be able to communicate with them better than any of your other staff."
"Hmm," Said the manager, "I think we should test your fluency before we take this any further."
"Alright." Said William. "Let's do it."
Several hours later, having spoken with people of many nationalites in and around the most popular tourist hotel, William was faced by a smiling manager, who had enjoyed these out-of-office japes.
"Good man!" Said the manager. "You're hired!"
From that moment, William was officially a man with employment.
On his first shift at the restaurant, he was serving, getting used to the routine, when someone at the back of the room caught his eye. Although the person was sat with his back to him, the dark hair and coat and the slight red glow of a cigarette caught William's attention. He approached the table, noticing that it was in his covers, and took out his notebook so that he could write down the order.
"Are you ready to order, Sir?"
"Yes." Mike Kevinson said. "I'll have a white wine to begin."
"Mike?!" William gasped. "What are you doing in Taiwan?"
"Working." Mike replied, off-handedly. "Just like you."
As he walked away, William could not help but think how strange it was that Mike Kevinson should show up in his first shift, at his new workplace, in his new hometown. But he quickly dismissed it, as Mike appeared to want nothing more than a glass of wine before he was on his way.
Unfortunately, thanks to his father's wilful ways with money and the last few months of illness, there wasn't really that much of an inheritance - everything of value had to be sold to pay off the debts that had accumulated, not to mention lawyer's fees, and after that all that was left was the house. Although it was a rather large, picturesque house, and the site of at least one good childhood memory, William soon discovered that it was impossible to live in such a grand house and pay all the bills without a job, car, or furniture of any great value. Thus it was he decided to sell the house, and move closer to Taiwan (for no greater reason than that he fancied a change of scenery).
So, young William, now a man for the first time, laid his plans: he would take a gap year, find a job (hopefully in a restaurant, since he liked the idea of serving), save up a lot, and then after that go to the local university. It was quite a good university, and the only one in China that could offer him his chosen subject - but more on that later.
Now that the financial matters were under way, William, having found the perfect house for himself, set out to find a job. He went around all the restaurants, cafes and general serveries of his new hometown, dropping off CVs like there was no tomorrow. Or rather a very long string of tomorrows, all of which needed paying for.
This done, he went home and patiently waited for several days, watching anime over the internet and rereading the entire Death Note saga. Eventually, just when he had decided to try again, the phone rang. Knowing that this could only be either a telemarketing call or an interview offer, he jumped to his feet and had the phone to his ear before the third ring.
"Hello? Mr... William Xu?" The voice at the other end of the phone asked, clearly reading his name from a sheet.
"Yes, that's me."
"Ah, hello. I'm calling from a local restaurant that you applied to for a full-time job, 乌鸦 (Wuya Foods). We would like to let you know that your application has been accepted, and if you could come in for an interview this next friday we would really like to speak to you."
"Ah! Thank you!" William replied, overcome with happiness. Now, for the very first time in his life, someone was giving him a chance.
When he got to the interview that friday, he was pleased to hear from the manager that they were a very strong business, and needed to take on extra staff to cope with the amount of customers they now recieved in the evenings. He showed himself to be willing and eager, and intelligent; but for William this was not enough. He had never been a popular boy and now was no exception. It seemed he was cursed; without being able to say why, the manager had an instinctive distrust of William and everything he said. All his references (old teachers, for the most part) seemed good, and his grades certainly spoke for themselves; but all the same, to the manager, employing William seemed somehow a bit of a risk...
"So, William," He said, to conclude the interview, "Is there anything else you'd like to bring to our attention? Something that qualifies you more than anyone else?"
"Yes, actually." William said smartly, having prepared himself for this question. I believe that, with the town being in such a central location, you have a great need for a translator."
"A translator?" The manager asked, unable to believe his ears.
"Yes." William responded solemnly. "You see, I am fluent in Chinese, Japanese, AND English. Now, if there are any customers from a different country, chances are I will be able to communicate with them better than any of your other staff."
"Hmm," Said the manager, "I think we should test your fluency before we take this any further."
"Alright." Said William. "Let's do it."
Several hours later, having spoken with people of many nationalites in and around the most popular tourist hotel, William was faced by a smiling manager, who had enjoyed these out-of-office japes.
"Good man!" Said the manager. "You're hired!"
From that moment, William was officially a man with employment.
On his first shift at the restaurant, he was serving, getting used to the routine, when someone at the back of the room caught his eye. Although the person was sat with his back to him, the dark hair and coat and the slight red glow of a cigarette caught William's attention. He approached the table, noticing that it was in his covers, and took out his notebook so that he could write down the order.
"Are you ready to order, Sir?"
"Yes." Mike Kevinson said. "I'll have a white wine to begin."
"Mike?!" William gasped. "What are you doing in Taiwan?"
"Working." Mike replied, off-handedly. "Just like you."
As he walked away, William could not help but think how strange it was that Mike Kevinson should show up in his first shift, at his new workplace, in his new hometown. But he quickly dismissed it, as Mike appeared to want nothing more than a glass of wine before he was on his way.
Thursday, 23 October 2008
Inspection: A rather personal issue
William froze. Mike Kevinson! Surely he would help him out of this sticky situation?
"H-h-hello, sir," stuttered William. He was very nervous, and yet certain that he would be saved.
Mike was joined by two other policemen. One was short, bulky, and kept grunting under his breath. The other was tall and lanky.
"We need to check out your involvement in Albert's death," said Mike Kevinson, leading them all down the corridor. They took several flights of stairs in silence; Mike did not trust lifts. Finally - two of them out of breath - they reached William's dormitory.
Mike Kevinson already had a key for the room, a fact William already handled with great suspicion. "Right, we won't be long," he told William. The fat policeman gave a pig-like snigger, and the lanky one elbowed him in the gut.
They all entered the room. Mike Kevinson glanced around, from time to time puffing from his perpetual cigarette. His facial expression turned from amusement (William's anime posters) to disgust, as his eyes met the ground. William looked down too.
Next to a pile of science textbooks, lay a tousled heap of black feathers.
"Oh no... now I'm really in it..." thought William.
"Explain these, please, William," demanded Mike.
"I don't know, honestly, I'm sorry, I -"
"TELL THE TRUTH! DO AS I SAY!" Mike had suddenly discarded his cigarette, and in the midst of his fury, stomped it on the carpet.
William cowered in terror. "I really don't know, seriously, sir." By this point, he was covered in beads of sweat, wondering if he would be expelled for this unfair accusation, and then his life would get even worse. If that was indeed possible.
"Fine, forget it." Mike seemed resigned to the fact that William was not going to give him a satisfactory answer.
William breathed a sigh of relief. But just when he thought he could relax...
"Can we have a look at your diary?" Mike Kevinson asked. He kept his gaze fixed on William, and as he did so, he took a drag on his cigarette. It was not three seconds later, when he comically - and totally unconsciously - opened a small corner of his mouth to exhale.
Appalled, William cried, "No! that's personal!"
Mike gave a sneer. "Got something to hide, eh?"
"Nothing but the hormonal confessions of a teenage boy!"
"Confessions, eh?" Mike raised an eyebrow, and took another long drag.
"Aaaargh! I can't take this!" shrieked William. "Blame me if you so wish, but I guarantee that those stupid... feathers... will get you nowhere!" With that, he slammed the door and left, to the peaceful school gardens, where he could clear his mind.
"That went well," Mike Kevinson pondered aloud. "The boy's right. No evidence against him here."
"Yeah," agreed the lanky policeman.
"Uhhhhh," nodded the fat one, and his stomach gave a tremendous grumble.
"H-h-hello, sir," stuttered William. He was very nervous, and yet certain that he would be saved.
Mike was joined by two other policemen. One was short, bulky, and kept grunting under his breath. The other was tall and lanky.
"We need to check out your involvement in Albert's death," said Mike Kevinson, leading them all down the corridor. They took several flights of stairs in silence; Mike did not trust lifts. Finally - two of them out of breath - they reached William's dormitory.
Mike Kevinson already had a key for the room, a fact William already handled with great suspicion. "Right, we won't be long," he told William. The fat policeman gave a pig-like snigger, and the lanky one elbowed him in the gut.
They all entered the room. Mike Kevinson glanced around, from time to time puffing from his perpetual cigarette. His facial expression turned from amusement (William's anime posters) to disgust, as his eyes met the ground. William looked down too.
Next to a pile of science textbooks, lay a tousled heap of black feathers.
"Oh no... now I'm really in it..." thought William.
"Explain these, please, William," demanded Mike.
"I don't know, honestly, I'm sorry, I -"
"TELL THE TRUTH! DO AS I SAY!" Mike had suddenly discarded his cigarette, and in the midst of his fury, stomped it on the carpet.
William cowered in terror. "I really don't know, seriously, sir." By this point, he was covered in beads of sweat, wondering if he would be expelled for this unfair accusation, and then his life would get even worse. If that was indeed possible.
"Fine, forget it." Mike seemed resigned to the fact that William was not going to give him a satisfactory answer.
William breathed a sigh of relief. But just when he thought he could relax...
"Can we have a look at your diary?" Mike Kevinson asked. He kept his gaze fixed on William, and as he did so, he took a drag on his cigarette. It was not three seconds later, when he comically - and totally unconsciously - opened a small corner of his mouth to exhale.
Appalled, William cried, "No! that's personal!"
Mike gave a sneer. "Got something to hide, eh?"
"Nothing but the hormonal confessions of a teenage boy!"
"Confessions, eh?" Mike raised an eyebrow, and took another long drag.
"Aaaargh! I can't take this!" shrieked William. "Blame me if you so wish, but I guarantee that those stupid... feathers... will get you nowhere!" With that, he slammed the door and left, to the peaceful school gardens, where he could clear his mind.
"That went well," Mike Kevinson pondered aloud. "The boy's right. No evidence against him here."
"Yeah," agreed the lanky policeman.
"Uhhhhh," nodded the fat one, and his stomach gave a tremendous grumble.
Tuesday, 21 October 2008
Fatality: William is Instantly Blamed
Five years passed; William traversed the rocky roads of puberty with little success. He kept out of trouble as much as he could. Although on occasion he was still hounded by bullies, Albert, his monobrowed nemesis, had developed a paralysing fear of black birds, and thus was stopped in his tracks many a time. Howeber, William was unable to permanently evade the grasp of his bullies, and often came a-cropper.
You see, by this age, William was really something of a nerd. Pokemon had become too uncool even for him, and so he buried himself in the digestion of manga of all origins and genres. He even read shounen ai, for want of other material. He also occupied himself in his study, and by the age of sixteen was indeed fluent in both Japanese and English, written and otherwise. Although of coure these skills were virtually useless, since no one would talk to him.
One day, February 2nd 2007 in fact, was what would later be engraved upon his mind as an unforgettable date. He was studying alone in the library, working hard so that he could complete all of his exams early and thus go to university. Albert, that monobrowed meanie, being quite a failure in the field of mathematics, had spent all of his lunch money on a dirty magazine and thus was now unable to purchase food for his ever-expanding stomach (a key feature of many diabolical bullies; but do not be fooled, at least part of this flab was really muscle in disguse). As a direct result of this, Albert went to the library, to seek out that moneybag known to all as William Xiu.
"Oi, William!" He called out provokingly, as an inefficient librarian flitted around trying to shush him. "How much money do you have today?"
Now, this really was an unfortunate situation. William, you see, had been saving up. He wanted to buy the Complete Edgar Allen Poe in English, but that was rather pricey in China, and import costs were not much better. He had been saving up for a while, eating as little as possible (the training of his infant years proved to be essential here), in order to afford it; and today he had finally gathered the correct amount. Today he intended to purchase that book.
"Just... the usual, Albert." William replied timidly, hoping that his lie was not too obvious.
"Give us your wallet, then." Albert retorted, and with a sigh of despair and a sinking feeling, William removed said object from his pocket. It clinked tellingly, and Albert smirked. He snatchd it out of William's hand and looked inside.
"Oh ho ho!" He said. "Oh ho ho! Just the usual? This will do very nicely."
And with that, he walked out of the library, leaving William sunk at the bottom of his hope, unable even to raise a shudder of disappointment. He had so been looking forward to that book.
Several hours later, William finally left the library, although he now saw no reason in hurrying anywhere; after all, the bookshop was out, and his route to his dormitory would take him straight past the very door of that most hated boy, Albert. Alas, being a friendless nerd he soon ran out of any other options, and had to turn his steps in that feared direction. Just as he was passing Albert's room he grew very tense, hoping that Albert or another of his cronies would not exit the room and see him there; but instead a shrill, loud shout burst through the air, making him jump almost out of his skin. He thought nothing of it however, and hurried on his way, wanting to be as far from Albert as possible.
Others had heard the scream, though, and they soon came running to find the source. After some knocking on the door, which was unanswered, one enterprising young lad saw fit to kick his way into the room. William had unfortunately been grabbed by one of Albert's friends as he tried to get away, and thus was forced to stand and watch. A horrified call beckoned the bystanders closer, including the one that still had hold of William; and so it was that he, too, saw the terrible sight of the corpse of Albert. His eyes were missing, his throat was a bloody mess, and his clothes were ripped all over. On the floor nearby lay a solitary black feather.
"IT WAS HIM!" The original explorer shouted in deathly tones, turning to point at William; and all those around him moved away, as if he might kill them where he stood. He swallowed nervously, becoming quite pale in the face, and attempted to shake his head in denial; but it was no good. They were quite certain as to who was responsible.
*
A matter of not many hours later, and a visitor arrived at the school. He greeted the headteacher, who immediately grew angry at said visitor's use of a cigarette. He had had a new no-smoking sign installed in his office, and as the visitor stood before him he tapped this sign pointedly.
"Baka," The visitor muttered; this, as I am sure our learned readers will know, being the Japanese word for 'idiot'. The visitor left the office, and headed for his destination.
William sat glumly in a study room, near the library. A knock at the door caused him to lift his head, and a wave of fear swept through him. Perhaps now he would be taken away.
"Hello? William Xiu?" A voice called out. "May I enter?"
Swallowing in trepidation, William stood and approached the door. Wondering briefly what would happen if he refused, he pushed this notion away and turned the handle. As the door swung inwards, he looked into a face he recognised well. The Japanese accent of a charming voice filled the room.
"Hello, William. You may remember me. My name is Inspector Mike Kevinson."
You see, by this age, William was really something of a nerd. Pokemon had become too uncool even for him, and so he buried himself in the digestion of manga of all origins and genres. He even read shounen ai, for want of other material. He also occupied himself in his study, and by the age of sixteen was indeed fluent in both Japanese and English, written and otherwise. Although of coure these skills were virtually useless, since no one would talk to him.
One day, February 2nd 2007 in fact, was what would later be engraved upon his mind as an unforgettable date. He was studying alone in the library, working hard so that he could complete all of his exams early and thus go to university. Albert, that monobrowed meanie, being quite a failure in the field of mathematics, had spent all of his lunch money on a dirty magazine and thus was now unable to purchase food for his ever-expanding stomach (a key feature of many diabolical bullies; but do not be fooled, at least part of this flab was really muscle in disguse). As a direct result of this, Albert went to the library, to seek out that moneybag known to all as William Xiu.
"Oi, William!" He called out provokingly, as an inefficient librarian flitted around trying to shush him. "How much money do you have today?"
Now, this really was an unfortunate situation. William, you see, had been saving up. He wanted to buy the Complete Edgar Allen Poe in English, but that was rather pricey in China, and import costs were not much better. He had been saving up for a while, eating as little as possible (the training of his infant years proved to be essential here), in order to afford it; and today he had finally gathered the correct amount. Today he intended to purchase that book.
"Just... the usual, Albert." William replied timidly, hoping that his lie was not too obvious.
"Give us your wallet, then." Albert retorted, and with a sigh of despair and a sinking feeling, William removed said object from his pocket. It clinked tellingly, and Albert smirked. He snatchd it out of William's hand and looked inside.
"Oh ho ho!" He said. "Oh ho ho! Just the usual? This will do very nicely."
And with that, he walked out of the library, leaving William sunk at the bottom of his hope, unable even to raise a shudder of disappointment. He had so been looking forward to that book.
Several hours later, William finally left the library, although he now saw no reason in hurrying anywhere; after all, the bookshop was out, and his route to his dormitory would take him straight past the very door of that most hated boy, Albert. Alas, being a friendless nerd he soon ran out of any other options, and had to turn his steps in that feared direction. Just as he was passing Albert's room he grew very tense, hoping that Albert or another of his cronies would not exit the room and see him there; but instead a shrill, loud shout burst through the air, making him jump almost out of his skin. He thought nothing of it however, and hurried on his way, wanting to be as far from Albert as possible.
Others had heard the scream, though, and they soon came running to find the source. After some knocking on the door, which was unanswered, one enterprising young lad saw fit to kick his way into the room. William had unfortunately been grabbed by one of Albert's friends as he tried to get away, and thus was forced to stand and watch. A horrified call beckoned the bystanders closer, including the one that still had hold of William; and so it was that he, too, saw the terrible sight of the corpse of Albert. His eyes were missing, his throat was a bloody mess, and his clothes were ripped all over. On the floor nearby lay a solitary black feather.
"IT WAS HIM!" The original explorer shouted in deathly tones, turning to point at William; and all those around him moved away, as if he might kill them where he stood. He swallowed nervously, becoming quite pale in the face, and attempted to shake his head in denial; but it was no good. They were quite certain as to who was responsible.
*
A matter of not many hours later, and a visitor arrived at the school. He greeted the headteacher, who immediately grew angry at said visitor's use of a cigarette. He had had a new no-smoking sign installed in his office, and as the visitor stood before him he tapped this sign pointedly.
"Baka," The visitor muttered; this, as I am sure our learned readers will know, being the Japanese word for 'idiot'. The visitor left the office, and headed for his destination.
William sat glumly in a study room, near the library. A knock at the door caused him to lift his head, and a wave of fear swept through him. Perhaps now he would be taken away.
"Hello? William Xiu?" A voice called out. "May I enter?"
Swallowing in trepidation, William stood and approached the door. Wondering briefly what would happen if he refused, he pushed this notion away and turned the handle. As the door swung inwards, he looked into a face he recognised well. The Japanese accent of a charming voice filled the room.
"Hello, William. You may remember me. My name is Inspector Mike Kevinson."
Wednesday, 15 October 2008
High school: William is caught unawares
Finally, after a nine-year plight at the boarding school, William was relieved to go to high school, the place of dreams.
The Academy of Avernus was eager to accept William - his grades were flawless, because he had not had a social life. Moreover, he had received a scholarship, which was funded from his father's will.
Sitting on his own wooden desk in his first Japanese lesson, a language he knew he would enjoy for years to come, William felt contented until he suddenly smelled burning. He glanced around the room, but nobody else seemed to have clocked that apparently, somebody had left biscuits in the oven for too long.
"May I go to the toilet, sir?" William put his hand up, and asked meekly.
"Be hasty," replied the master.
Down the corridor, William followed the burning smell as best he could. He was led to the room where many chemicals for science lessons were stored. He did not yet realise that he was putting himself in a lot of danger. Pushing open the door, William found himself face to face with several bottles of liquid, labelled with the radioactive or skull symbols. And behind them, an inferno burned. The odour it gave off was such that it forced William to pull the front of his jumper over his nose and mouth. It was spreading quickly, and William jumped when a roof-beam fell off.
"Oh no..." it occurred to William that it would get very hard to escape this situation.
Alas! As bricks started falling, William made a dash for the door. He did not know whether to be surprised, horrified, or indifferent when he saw the same thing happen in the corridor. High-pitched fire alarms started to sound, and William ran. Students came pouring out of classroms, down the stairs, onto the schoolyard.
By the time William reached the schoolyard with the thousand-strong crowd, the school was already in ruins. The flock of crows fleeing through the billowing smoke created a dramatic contrast. However, he seemed to be the only one who had not grabbed their possessions in the rush. They had both their possessions and their lives; he had only the latter.
With no majestic school building, the headmaster announced that they would temporarily be using the former district leisure centre as a base for education.
William took his Japanese class in what was formerly a changing room. Needless to say, the subject did not excite him nearly as much. It was cold in there, and the benches were hard. Nobody at all was motivated. In fact, the most invigorating thing that happened that particular day, was the moment that Inspector Mike Kevinson first poked his head around the door.
He stood tall, well-built, in his early twenties, and dressed in black, under the doorway; an undeniably attractive man. His shiny dark hair was swept by the wind, and his face sharply cheekboned and stubbled. Between his fingers, he held a cigarette.
"Excuse me," quipped the school's stout headteacher, who had suddenly appeared behind this brooding hunk, "could you put that cigarette out, please? Health and safety regulations..."
Mike Kevinson ignored him.
Instead, he proceeded to walk forward and say, in - coincidentally - a Japanese accent, "an audience with William Xiu, please."
William, sitting on the bench shuddering with cold, began to tremble with fear. What on earth would this intimidatingly handsome man want with him, possibly the nerdiest high-school child in south-eastern China? Nervously, he got up from the cold, hard bench.
Outside the classroom, Mike Kevinson subjected him to an icy, long glare. William raised his eyebrows, and was then led to a room that had comfortable-looking chairs, but a decor lacking personality. They sat down.
After a silence of about one minute, William cried, "what do you want from me?!"
Mike Kevinson, whom nobody had noticed bin his cigarette, got a packet - Lucky Crows - out of his pocket, extracted a new one, and lit it.
"I want to ask you about what has just happened to your school."
William looked puzzled. "Erm... it burnt down, sir?"
"Well, obviously. This is what I meant. William, did you have anything to do with it?"
"No."
"Are you sure? You can tell me."
"I'm sure. With all due respect, sir, I want to resume class. I like Japanese a lot. I hope to visit Japan one day."
Mike Kevinson took a drag on his cigarette. He scratched the back of his neck, averting the gaze of his interrogee for a moment, then looked back at him with his expressive eyes. "It's nice there. You can probably already tell I'm Japanese. Grew up in Kyoto."
"Wow! Lucky!" William was filled with glee. Perhaps he could make friends with Mike, and he'd show him round Japan, it would be so cool, and -
Three short, sharp knocks at the door. It was the headmaster, holding a cup of tea. "Time's up,Inspector Kevinson."
"Alright. I've got all the information I need."
William smiled, thanked Mike Kevinson, then left. When the headmaster was certain that William was out of earshot, he hissed, "I thought I told you - no smoking on the school premises."
"Very well," said Mike Kevinson. With that, he dropped the still-red cigarette into the headmaster's cup of tea, and left.
The Academy of Avernus was eager to accept William - his grades were flawless, because he had not had a social life. Moreover, he had received a scholarship, which was funded from his father's will.
Sitting on his own wooden desk in his first Japanese lesson, a language he knew he would enjoy for years to come, William felt contented until he suddenly smelled burning. He glanced around the room, but nobody else seemed to have clocked that apparently, somebody had left biscuits in the oven for too long.
"May I go to the toilet, sir?" William put his hand up, and asked meekly.
"Be hasty," replied the master.
Down the corridor, William followed the burning smell as best he could. He was led to the room where many chemicals for science lessons were stored. He did not yet realise that he was putting himself in a lot of danger. Pushing open the door, William found himself face to face with several bottles of liquid, labelled with the radioactive or skull symbols. And behind them, an inferno burned. The odour it gave off was such that it forced William to pull the front of his jumper over his nose and mouth. It was spreading quickly, and William jumped when a roof-beam fell off.
"Oh no..." it occurred to William that it would get very hard to escape this situation.
Alas! As bricks started falling, William made a dash for the door. He did not know whether to be surprised, horrified, or indifferent when he saw the same thing happen in the corridor. High-pitched fire alarms started to sound, and William ran. Students came pouring out of classroms, down the stairs, onto the schoolyard.
By the time William reached the schoolyard with the thousand-strong crowd, the school was already in ruins. The flock of crows fleeing through the billowing smoke created a dramatic contrast. However, he seemed to be the only one who had not grabbed their possessions in the rush. They had both their possessions and their lives; he had only the latter.
With no majestic school building, the headmaster announced that they would temporarily be using the former district leisure centre as a base for education.
William took his Japanese class in what was formerly a changing room. Needless to say, the subject did not excite him nearly as much. It was cold in there, and the benches were hard. Nobody at all was motivated. In fact, the most invigorating thing that happened that particular day, was the moment that Inspector Mike Kevinson first poked his head around the door.
He stood tall, well-built, in his early twenties, and dressed in black, under the doorway; an undeniably attractive man. His shiny dark hair was swept by the wind, and his face sharply cheekboned and stubbled. Between his fingers, he held a cigarette.
"Excuse me," quipped the school's stout headteacher, who had suddenly appeared behind this brooding hunk, "could you put that cigarette out, please? Health and safety regulations..."
Mike Kevinson ignored him.
Instead, he proceeded to walk forward and say, in - coincidentally - a Japanese accent, "an audience with William Xiu, please."
William, sitting on the bench shuddering with cold, began to tremble with fear. What on earth would this intimidatingly handsome man want with him, possibly the nerdiest high-school child in south-eastern China? Nervously, he got up from the cold, hard bench.
Outside the classroom, Mike Kevinson subjected him to an icy, long glare. William raised his eyebrows, and was then led to a room that had comfortable-looking chairs, but a decor lacking personality. They sat down.
After a silence of about one minute, William cried, "what do you want from me?!"
Mike Kevinson, whom nobody had noticed bin his cigarette, got a packet - Lucky Crows - out of his pocket, extracted a new one, and lit it.
"I want to ask you about what has just happened to your school."
William looked puzzled. "Erm... it burnt down, sir?"
"Well, obviously. This is what I meant. William, did you have anything to do with it?"
"No."
"Are you sure? You can tell me."
"I'm sure. With all due respect, sir, I want to resume class. I like Japanese a lot. I hope to visit Japan one day."
Mike Kevinson took a drag on his cigarette. He scratched the back of his neck, averting the gaze of his interrogee for a moment, then looked back at him with his expressive eyes. "It's nice there. You can probably already tell I'm Japanese. Grew up in Kyoto."
"Wow! Lucky!" William was filled with glee. Perhaps he could make friends with Mike, and he'd show him round Japan, it would be so cool, and -
Three short, sharp knocks at the door. It was the headmaster, holding a cup of tea. "Time's up,Inspector Kevinson."
"Alright. I've got all the information I need."
William smiled, thanked Mike Kevinson, then left. When the headmaster was certain that William was out of earshot, he hissed, "I thought I told you - no smoking on the school premises."
"Very well," said Mike Kevinson. With that, he dropped the still-red cigarette into the headmaster's cup of tea, and left.
Sunday, 5 October 2008
Bullies: One gets his comeuppance
November 5th, 1997
It was around this time that, in a turn of events that seemed at first to be fortuitous, William's father finally succumbed to a long and unavoidable illness.
"William," He said, lying on his deathbed; "What I have, you see, son, is cancer. Cancer of the lungs. Therefore I am sending you away to a boarding school, you know. It is called Chao Cheng, after the man who founded it, and you will stay there until you are at least eighteen years old."
With this utterance, he died. It was never revealed to William the cause of his cancer: too many nights spent in smoky strip joints, instead of looking after William.
Although William at first thought it quite a godsend that he would no longer have to attend the old school, he soon realised two awful things: one, that he would have to stay in the same place, unavoidably, for the next eleven years; and two, that Bessie, his only (unreliable) ally, would not be accompanying him, since it was a boarding school for boys.
After a short and solemn funeral, to which absolutely no one but William attended, the last of his things were packed up and he was sent away from his home, with the promise that at eighteen he might return and use it as his home once more.
On his arrival at Chao Cheng School, William immediately noticed that almost all of the boys there were richer and more agile and stronger than he was; putting two and two together, he deduced that perhaps he should keep his head quite firmly down, since he already had quite a lot of experience with this sort of boy. Unfortunately, Chao Cheng School was quite renowned as one of the best in the area, and after some disturbing reports of bullying the father of a certain other boy had decided to enroll him. And so it was that William, wandering the corridors in an aimless and lost sort of way, soon came face to face once more with the disturbing monobrow of his bully.
For quite some weeks, the bully stayed away from William, in order to increase his own popularity, and soon he had a little gang of friends. These bullies did not like William at all; in fact, not many people did - he was quite, quite friendless. Try as he might, no one would give him so much as a smile. He was forced instead to spend his time with Pokemon and their ilk, wasting hours evolving doduos into dotrios, spearows into fearows, pidgeys into pidgeottos. He could not even persuade his fellow players to trade so much as an ekans for his illegally-gained mew. To make matters worse, the bullies were waiting wherever he went, to push and shove and call him names.
William did not think there would be any way out of this; he even stopped praying for it to end. Until, that is, the events of November 15th, 1997. At seven years old he was already branded a nerd or a geek, playing too many video games, and spending all the rest of his time concentrating on study. It was at this point that a particularly disturbing incident occured.
"Got my money, William?" The monobrowed bully asked, a phrase which had become merely habitual to him. William handed it over without a word, and the bully quickly slapped him round the face for good measure before heading off, chortling, with his friends.
"Do you want to go get some sweets now?" One of his cohorts asked; but the bully shrugged.
"I think I'll go to my dorm for a bit." He replied casually. He was intending to eat the secret cake he had stolen earlier from the cooks, and did not want the others to know about this. They parted ways, as William watched them warily from some distance away.
It was around this time that, in a turn of events that seemed at first to be fortuitous, William's father finally succumbed to a long and unavoidable illness.
"William," He said, lying on his deathbed; "What I have, you see, son, is cancer. Cancer of the lungs. Therefore I am sending you away to a boarding school, you know. It is called Chao Cheng, after the man who founded it, and you will stay there until you are at least eighteen years old."
With this utterance, he died. It was never revealed to William the cause of his cancer: too many nights spent in smoky strip joints, instead of looking after William.
Although William at first thought it quite a godsend that he would no longer have to attend the old school, he soon realised two awful things: one, that he would have to stay in the same place, unavoidably, for the next eleven years; and two, that Bessie, his only (unreliable) ally, would not be accompanying him, since it was a boarding school for boys.
After a short and solemn funeral, to which absolutely no one but William attended, the last of his things were packed up and he was sent away from his home, with the promise that at eighteen he might return and use it as his home once more.
On his arrival at Chao Cheng School, William immediately noticed that almost all of the boys there were richer and more agile and stronger than he was; putting two and two together, he deduced that perhaps he should keep his head quite firmly down, since he already had quite a lot of experience with this sort of boy. Unfortunately, Chao Cheng School was quite renowned as one of the best in the area, and after some disturbing reports of bullying the father of a certain other boy had decided to enroll him. And so it was that William, wandering the corridors in an aimless and lost sort of way, soon came face to face once more with the disturbing monobrow of his bully.
For quite some weeks, the bully stayed away from William, in order to increase his own popularity, and soon he had a little gang of friends. These bullies did not like William at all; in fact, not many people did - he was quite, quite friendless. Try as he might, no one would give him so much as a smile. He was forced instead to spend his time with Pokemon and their ilk, wasting hours evolving doduos into dotrios, spearows into fearows, pidgeys into pidgeottos. He could not even persuade his fellow players to trade so much as an ekans for his illegally-gained mew. To make matters worse, the bullies were waiting wherever he went, to push and shove and call him names.
William did not think there would be any way out of this; he even stopped praying for it to end. Until, that is, the events of November 15th, 1997. At seven years old he was already branded a nerd or a geek, playing too many video games, and spending all the rest of his time concentrating on study. It was at this point that a particularly disturbing incident occured.
"Got my money, William?" The monobrowed bully asked, a phrase which had become merely habitual to him. William handed it over without a word, and the bully quickly slapped him round the face for good measure before heading off, chortling, with his friends.
"Do you want to go get some sweets now?" One of his cohorts asked; but the bully shrugged.
"I think I'll go to my dorm for a bit." He replied casually. He was intending to eat the secret cake he had stolen earlier from the cooks, and did not want the others to know about this. They parted ways, as William watched them warily from some distance away.
The bully returned to his room, as he had promised; but things there were not well. On his bed, the once carefully-wrapped-in-a-towel cake was lying, open, half-consumed, with crumbs scattered every which way about. The bully's first thought was that someone had broken into the room and stolen some of his cake! At first he intended to complain to the headmaster, before he realised that he had in fact stolen it in the first place, and therefore had not a leg to stand on.
At this point, therefore, he began to look about him for evidence of the perpretrator. (Do not be fooled; our bully does not and never will understand the word "perpetrator". He simply thinks of several very rude words, which I will no repeat, for the sake of our gentle readers' eyes.) Thus it was that, eventually, he had no place to look or search but up, and so up was where he looked.
As soon as he did so, his cry of pain could be heard from all the way down the corridor.
Several people came running at once to the source of the noise: one teacher, to see what the matter was; one caretaker, who surmised he might have some cleaning to do, or some mopping of bodily fluid; and quite a few students, who were curious rather than worried. After a few moments, even William himself turned from his solitary walk through the corridors to join the ever-increasing flow of people.
"My eyes! It went for my eyes!!" The bully was crying, and indeed, when William approached the door he could see blood running from his forehead and cheeks.
"Probably pecking off that monobrow." Another student muttered, and his companion laughed; but they were soon shushed by one of the other teachers, who had recently arrived on the scene.
"What's this?" The first teacher asked, looking around the room. "All of these black feathers... he's telling the truth. It really was a crow that attacked him."
As the bully was taken away to the infirmery, he passed by William, and gave him such a look of hatred that William almost flinched.
"This is your doing." He said. "And I'll never forget it."
Sunday, 28 September 2008
School: A coming of age
The time had arrived, finally, for young William to be initated, for the first time, into the world of education. Bessie enrolled him at Relic of Shen Elementary School, for his father did not feel so inclined.
The first day - perhaps needless to say - was catastrophic. William was hotly anticipating his first sport lesson. In the garden, whenever he could muster up the energy, he had always been kicking a tatty, ancient football against the wall; it was lonely, though. He had always longed for a team-mate.
Getting changed was a strange affair. William locked himself in a cubicle, for he did not feel that he could face the judgemental eyes of his new peers. Despite the sizeable gap under the door, he felt his modesty was safe.
The boys lined up on the field, ready for teams to be chosen for softball. A teacher with a handlebar moustache picked the "Crow" team, and a wiser-looking man picked the "Bluebird" team. William eagerly hoped he would be chosen for the "Bluebirds".
In no time at all, there were just four people left, awaiting their destined team. William's hope faded quickly - and as he had feared, he was indeed the last to be chosen. And much worse, that he was induced into the "Crows".
The moustachioed teacher blew the whistle, and the softball game commenced. Despite the name, William, by the end of the match, did not consider it to be a very soft ball at all. His team's tabards were black... and yet, why did other black-tabard-wearing boys constantly deliberately aim at his head with the ball, or merely avoid passing the ball to him - their fellow team-mate! - at all? Particularly distinguishable was a bulky child with big cheeks and a dark monobrow.
"To me, school is already a place of woe," pondered William miserably, whilst he ate the bland school dinner - his best meal in months - at a table on his own.
"Oi!" a voice boomed reproachfully from behind where William was sitting. He turned around, and gulped slightly to find that it was the monobrowed boy from his own team.
"Did you want something?" William replied timidly.
"I did, yeah. And that happens to be your lunch money, sucker."
"I d-d-d-don't have any. All my lunch is r-right here."
Out of nowhere, two equally bulky children had joined the monobrowed child. They were sneering in a similarly menacing manner. William gulped.
"Let's get him, boys," the leader of the bullies said.
William's heart was pounding now. Everyone else in the canteen had seemingly disappeared within the space of one second. He had no possible defence plans. His only weapon was to run; or perhaps he was small and scrawny enough to slide under the table.
So with an abrupt slam to the floor, William went under the table, hoping this would put him at an advantage against the tall bullies; who had made a grab for him at the leader's command. He felt a tinge of glee as he crawled out from under the table, out of the trajectory of the bullies' punches.
Then he felt a tug at his foot. One of the shorter bullies, with ginger hair - rather an abnormality for a Chinese child - was standing on William's loose shoelace. He then proceeded to yank the shoe, which was two sizes too big, off his foot.
"Got it, Albert!" the red-haired boy waved the shoe in the air like a victory prize.
William was still lying on the ground, unable to believe this had happened on his very first day of school. He closed his eyes, and submitted a silent prayer to anyone, anything, that this would stop.
When he looked up, he saw his shoe dangling from a roof beam. He groaned
Then, he saw Bessie at the door.
"It's hometime, William," she said soothingly. "Why are you laying on the floor?"
"I don't know. All I know, is that I can't carry going to school. Let me go home. And please arrange for someone to help me get my shoe back."
The first day - perhaps needless to say - was catastrophic. William was hotly anticipating his first sport lesson. In the garden, whenever he could muster up the energy, he had always been kicking a tatty, ancient football against the wall; it was lonely, though. He had always longed for a team-mate.
Getting changed was a strange affair. William locked himself in a cubicle, for he did not feel that he could face the judgemental eyes of his new peers. Despite the sizeable gap under the door, he felt his modesty was safe.
The boys lined up on the field, ready for teams to be chosen for softball. A teacher with a handlebar moustache picked the "Crow" team, and a wiser-looking man picked the "Bluebird" team. William eagerly hoped he would be chosen for the "Bluebirds".
In no time at all, there were just four people left, awaiting their destined team. William's hope faded quickly - and as he had feared, he was indeed the last to be chosen. And much worse, that he was induced into the "Crows".
The moustachioed teacher blew the whistle, and the softball game commenced. Despite the name, William, by the end of the match, did not consider it to be a very soft ball at all. His team's tabards were black... and yet, why did other black-tabard-wearing boys constantly deliberately aim at his head with the ball, or merely avoid passing the ball to him - their fellow team-mate! - at all? Particularly distinguishable was a bulky child with big cheeks and a dark monobrow.
"To me, school is already a place of woe," pondered William miserably, whilst he ate the bland school dinner - his best meal in months - at a table on his own.
"Oi!" a voice boomed reproachfully from behind where William was sitting. He turned around, and gulped slightly to find that it was the monobrowed boy from his own team.
"Did you want something?" William replied timidly.
"I did, yeah. And that happens to be your lunch money, sucker."
"I d-d-d-don't have any. All my lunch is r-right here."
Out of nowhere, two equally bulky children had joined the monobrowed child. They were sneering in a similarly menacing manner. William gulped.
"Let's get him, boys," the leader of the bullies said.
William's heart was pounding now. Everyone else in the canteen had seemingly disappeared within the space of one second. He had no possible defence plans. His only weapon was to run; or perhaps he was small and scrawny enough to slide under the table.
So with an abrupt slam to the floor, William went under the table, hoping this would put him at an advantage against the tall bullies; who had made a grab for him at the leader's command. He felt a tinge of glee as he crawled out from under the table, out of the trajectory of the bullies' punches.
Then he felt a tug at his foot. One of the shorter bullies, with ginger hair - rather an abnormality for a Chinese child - was standing on William's loose shoelace. He then proceeded to yank the shoe, which was two sizes too big, off his foot.
"Got it, Albert!" the red-haired boy waved the shoe in the air like a victory prize.
William was still lying on the ground, unable to believe this had happened on his very first day of school. He closed his eyes, and submitted a silent prayer to anyone, anything, that this would stop.
When he looked up, he saw his shoe dangling from a roof beam. He groaned
Then, he saw Bessie at the door.
"It's hometime, William," she said soothingly. "Why are you laying on the floor?"
"I don't know. All I know, is that I can't carry going to school. Let me go home. And please arrange for someone to help me get my shoe back."
Friday, 26 September 2008
Infancy: "It started from his birth"
25th October 1990 - 6.13 am - Taipei
"I can't push any longer!"
The exhausted sigh escaped her lips as she sank back on the pillows, her dark hair falling, damp, over her brow. She couldn't take any more pain. It was just too hard.
"Come on, he's nearly here." The nurse with the grey eyes murmured encouragingly. "Just one last, big push."
The half-dead woman, too weak even to cry, shook her head in mute denial; but she knew she had to do something to end these fifty-two hours of agonising labour. She closed her eyes and whispered a swift prayer, and pushed with all the last strength of her will.
She screamed one last time, and then the baby was out. She looked to the window, and dimly saw two crows, perched, looking in curiously at this spectacle of life and death.
"What will you name him?" The nurse asked urgently, seeing that her patient was fading fast.
"William..." She whispered in reply; and when the nurse turned to place William in his mother's arms, she saw that it was already too late. The young woman would never hold her son.
*
William's father was a good example of a bad father. Absent from the birth, he arrived too late to make any impact on his wife's failing health; instead, he was present with a squalling, smelly infant, wrapped in hospital sheets with a little tag around his littler wrist, proclaiming the word "WILLIAM". Astounded by this turn of events, he had not the sense nor the desire to look after William himself. So it was that, even from an early age, William was forced to fend for himself. At first he was a thin, staring little child, learning the arts of both walking and talking later than the other children in his area; in fact, many supposed that he was perhaps stupid or disabled in some mental capacity.
The simple, sad truth of the matter was, William's father often forgot to feed him. Only the presence of an aged servant, who went by the inexplicable name of Bessie, could account for his continued grip on life: at times she would remember his existence and hurry to give him a bottle. Thus it was, also, that he did not start solid food until one day, when he was several months past the usual age, his father forced a grain of rice into his hungry mouth. Then it was that William began to grow.
One day, playing casually in the kitchen, he saw a crow fly in through the window, peck at a few morsels of rice upon the table, and fly out again. Heartened by this example, he began to steal food whenever possible, and eventually grew at a normal rate; until finally, at the age of four and three quarters, he was just the same as others his age.
But, as with the others his age, school must follow soon. Although his father nearly forgot to enrol him, crisis was averted by the intervention of Bessie; and all was set for William's school career to begin.
Tuesday, 16 September 2008
Prophecy: For one moment, the story of Da-Xia
Sixteenth century, during the Ming dynasty. A girl, Da-Xia, is walking through the countryside of Jiangsu. The sun is out, but, but it is a rather cold day. She is enjoying nature. Out of the blue, she hears the chime of bells from the nearby village, and takes this as a sign that she needs to get back. Young women shouldn't be out in the wild on their own, after all. They should be helping their mothers make silk.
Da-Xia makes her way back to the village, the pathway surrounded by lychee trees. What beautiful fruits, she remarks in her head, admiring them as she walks along. But all of a sudden, something off catches Da-Xia's eye. A piece of...
"Paper?" she asks out loud. And it is hanging on the branch, dancing in the breeze. A low branch, at that. Who could resist?
Checking that nobody is watching her - for she, let us not forget, is a girl getting herself into many misadventures - the curious Da-Xia stands on her tiptoes, and lifts her hands up. She is quite surprised to find that the piece of paper was well within her reach. Not three seconds later was it firmly clasped in her warm hand. She opens up the little piece of paper - it had been folded into quarters. And on it were some strange-looking characters.
Da-Xia cannot read.
This meant she would need to ask her older brother, Bohai.
Back at the family home, after dinner, she took him to one side. "Hey, I need to ask you a favour."
"Anything, little sister."
"Could you tell me what this says?"
Bohai's face went blank. "Where did you get this from?"
Bohai's face went blank. "Where did you get this from?"
"To tell you the truth... I found it."
"It could belong to somebody important, you know, and we will get in trouble if we get found out."
"It could belong to somebody important, you know, and we will get in trouble if we get found out."
"Just don't tell Father, and we'll be fine." Da-Xia sighed. Not for the first time ever, she reflected upon the fact that her brother was intelligent - but often overly cautious.
"Very well." Bohai took a deep breath. "After the delicious consumption of this cookie, a fortune awaits. Depending on the beholder's actions, though. the consequences of this fate could be disastrous. At any given time, a boy of the name William will be born. True; many boys of the name William will be born. But this one is a rather different story. After it is realised that he is the William you have waited for, it will be far, far too late."
Both Da-Xia and Bohai had been so mesmerised by the words of this prophecy, that they had not even noticed that the pleasant spring day was now greying.
The sounds of all chirping birds had also disappeared.
All that was left was the shadow of a crow - which then landed at the feet of the siblings - looking up at them with a certain sense of the sinister.
Sunday, 14 September 2008
The Story of William: An Introduction
This is the story of a particular story. It was named after the hero of the story, the poor boy whom the story was about, and so the story follows the hero of the story through his birth, life, and untimely death. This story is like no other story ever told by a storyteller ever... ever. And this is the story of that story.
It all began one dark and wintr'y day, when the wind was harsh and the crows were swooping to the ground, and one boy, by the name, the fateful name, the accursed name of WILLIAM stood out in the elements, seemingly alone. But he was not alone. William was never, ever alone... ever. He was watched, you see, by your faithful narrators; and so, these narrators decided to narrate a narrative, a story, a story about a boy, a story about William. And what you are about to read...
... Is that story.
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