Chinese Women, Asian Women, Online Dating & Things Chinese and Asian
Imi was born and raised in Europe, Hungary. After finishing his school years, he moved to Canada to search for a better life. He lived in Toronto for 13 years and currently resides in Vancouver. He is a romantic at heart with a strong desire to always do the right thing. He would like to give hope to the Chinese and Asian ladies with his story and send a message that love eventually finds everybody.
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Yan's Story: Fire in Her Eyes 砚儿的故事:她眼睛里的那团火 - Part 1    

By Imi
2595 Views | 3 Comments | 1/23/2016 12:15:53 PM

Yan lowered her head and, wearily, looked at her dust-covered shoes as she followed a group of children. She was hungry and wanted to get home as soon as possible after school, but the fear of passing the group and being ridiculed by them settled her small feet into a steady plod.


She looked up at the sky, and in an instant, she felt the power of the scorching sun. Her face was ablaze. She winced slightly in pain and lowered her head again, covering her delicate skin with her long hair.


She was almost home and would be completely safe in her room, alone, but when she turned the last corner of her street, she suddenly realized her mother's house was still far away, still a long humiliation away. A group of children from her school was coming fast from the opposite direction. She knew them, and they knew her. Embarrassment, fear, and sadness all swept across her face at the same time.


She wanted desperately to hide. An old, rickety fence with broken slats seemed to be a good hiding place, but she ran out of time. The group had almost reached her, and they had already seen her. The children commenced chanting at once. There was no hiding place that could have shielded her from their sneers and taunts.


They chanted, "Ugly face, ugly face, look at her ugly face!"


Her first reaction was to flee, but she held herself back from running. She lowered her head even more and started walking faster to avoid them. When she was almost past them, though, someone pulled her hair, and she began to run as fast as she could without looking back. The children's callous chants followed her all the way home. She went immediately to her room, avoiding her mother halfway through the kitchen, and threw herself onto her bed. Lian stopped working for a few seconds, looked at the door slam behind her daughter and, then, resumed her work and let her daughter be.


Yan closed her eyes tightly as the jeering laughter reached her ears from outside once again. She rolled into a fetal position, grabbed her favorite doll, and began to cry. She cried and cried up until she was half asleep, and the teardrops turned into sparks; her pillow was set ablaze, and the flames engulfed her entire face.


She awoke, almost screaming in terror, slapping her face feverishly with both hands as she tried to extinguish the invisible fire. The fire that had once been real and alive still haunted her with the most ferocious and vivid nightmares. She shuddered and panted heavily, and her eyes stared blankly into the distance. Eventually, however, the sweet realization of actuality calmed her mind.


When she finally quieted down, she grabbed a mirror off her night table and checked her face. Fortunately, of course, it didn't show any flames melting her face away. It only showed a small, nine-year-old girl with unusually big but beautiful eyes–by any Chinese standards–and long black hair.


Yan's eyes weren't focused on her exceptional facial features, though. Her eyes were gripped by the small scars on her skin that started from the middle of her forehead and covered half of her face all the way down to her neck. They were scar burns that were almost unnoticeable after eight years. However, as everybody knows, in the community of children in which she still belonged, and with her tender nine years of age, the smallest dissimilarity could make one's life a living hell.


She pulled her long hair behind her ears and revealed her injuries even more. She inspected the scars carefully. She touched them lightly. She'd done this ritual every single day since she had asked her mother about their origins after the first day at school, after the first few taunts. Her mother had told her. She hadn't told a fairy tale like other mothers do with their children. Yan's tale was a nightmare, an inconceivable horror that a Chinese baby girl had lived through.


Ever since Lian had told her the story and had eventually blamed herself for telling it so evocatively, Yan's nights had gotten longer and full of horrific visions and cries. Her days had also taken longer with the constant taunts by the other children and her self-contempt. It seemed that only her life had been getting shorter in the lack of good memories, in the shades of one tragic event that she had survived when she was eight months old . . .




























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#2016-01-23 12:29:19 by JohnAbbot @JohnAbbot

Imi, sometimes I am amazed by the topics you write about. This is one of those times. Of course we don't know yet where you are going with Yan's Story, but where ever it is headed you certainly have me cheering for her, hoping that she finds a way out of her daily and brutally unfair humiliation.

I'm also hoping that you're going to reveal to us just who Yan is in reality, if she is someone known to you in reality. And whether she is real or not, hopefully you'll tell us the story behind the story. What caused you to write about this little girl? Where is she now? What is her life like now?

These are some of the things I am anxious to learn in the next part or parts of this series. You have my full attention!

#2016-01-23 17:23:21 by brisbaneboy @brisbaneboy

I also am intrigued by this story and hope for a happy ending.

#2016-01-23 21:51:24 by Imi5922 @Imi5922


Thanks for your comments!

It's only a two-part story. I hope the next part will answer all your questions. If it didn't, please let me know.

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