Part 12
Apr 26, 2025
Here’s an alternate version of the last line of Yang Ying’s monologue:
“So I learned to grit my teeth and hold my tongue, to keep my head down and buried in my books, and held onto the incorporeal hope of a better future until my hands bled.”
I wanted to conjure up the imagery of smoke, Yang Ying keeps trying to grab at it, and it keeps slipping through his fingers. Nevertheless, keeps desperately grasping at air, cupping his hands ever so tightly around whatever small wisp of smoke he's able to catch, lest they escape him yet again.
In the end I decided against it because I couldn’t really find a word that perfectly captures that idea of smoke (intangible? elusive? illusory? wispy?), and to get the point across I might have to explain it in this description, which is probably a sign that it’s just too enigmatic to be used.
Recommendation for you
-
Recommendation
Ghost Lights
LGBTQ+ 800.8k likes
-
Recommendation
Do You Even Witch
BL 4.7m likes
-
Recommendation
Humor me
Slice of life 3.1m likes
-
Recommendation
Strange and Wild
Fantasy 787k likes
-
Recommendation
Copper eyes
BL 1.1m likes
-
Recommendation
Autophobia
Romance 978.2k likes
-
Feeling lucky
Random series you may like
A Five Decade Old Open Wound
1.1k views5 subscribers
“It’s just a joke, don’t be so sensitive!”
Yang Ying has heard those words one too many times already. Those are the words that follow blatant mockeries spat at his face. Those are the words that are supposed to lessen the pain of the bullying, but never do. Those are the words that supposedly wiser and worldlier adults use to justify their harassment of a small child.
This is a short story about trauma, and how it lingers.
Updates every Saturday at 5:00 p.m. PST.
Yang Ying has heard those words one too many times already. Those are the words that follow blatant mockeries spat at his face. Those are the words that are supposed to lessen the pain of the bullying, but never do. Those are the words that supposedly wiser and worldlier adults use to justify their harassment of a small child.
This is a short story about trauma, and how it lingers.
Updates every Saturday at 5:00 p.m. PST.
Comments (0)
See all