Thanks for taking the time to review.
I’ll make the spelling and punctuation changes.
Haha you couldn’t be more right, “welcome to my world” is lame!
I admit the ending does need some work.
Short Story / The Power of Words
On one of my earlier trips to Vietnam I was travelling around on a guided tour when we stopped out the front of several shops. The tour guide explained that we had half an hour to explore but I was more interested in getting out of this terrible humidity. I walked past a shop that was selling wood carvings and noticed a cool breeze escaping from its open door, I quickly turned and entered the store.
I wandered around the shop feigning an interest but in truth I was only interested in the air coming from an old busted air conditioning unit at the back of the store. I followed the cool air as it was pushed to every part of the store; I walked down the isles quickly glancing at their products, always conscious not to lose the moving air.
An old lady with gun metal grey hair sat at the counter staring at me as I made my progression through the store. I had made my way to the very back of the store and saw an open door leading to another room. The smell of freshly carved wood lured me to take a look inside. A girl sat with her back to me carving away. On the table were several animals that must have been recently completed and the floor was littered with wood carvings. The room was quite dark and I found it hard to imagine that it had suitable light for work.
As I was examining the room the girl placed the chisel she was using down and turned around to grab another, I instantly noticed her face. Where there should have been eyes there was nothing. There was only skin, like one extended forehead. Her first distinguishable facial feature was her nose. A gasp left my mouth when I realised that this wasn’t a trick of light. In a quiet Vietnamese ascent the girl said hello. I turned and left the store as quickly as possible and jumped on the tour bus without looking back.
That night as I lay in my hotel’s pool sipping a cocktail I thought of the girl again. I questioned myself as to what I had seen that day. I decided that the next day I would head back there. As shocking as it was I had to find out why I also felt ashamed to have ran scared.
The next morning I cancelled my day tour and flagged down a rickshaw out the front of my hotel. I asked the driver if he knew the district and we agreed on a price. Sitting on the back of a rickshaw I was able to take in more of the surroundings and really get a feel of the place. The suburbs, if you could call them that, were very impoverished and children played in muddy puddles.
When we got closer to the district the driver asked me where exactly I would want to be left. I asked if he knew where the wood carving shop was and he replied, “Ah yes, I know the one, it is very famous around here.” I asked why and he explained to me what I already knew, that the girl who did the carvings was born without eyes. She has never seen a thing in her life and yet still manages to carve the most detailed objects. The rarest and most expensive objects are the ones that she doesn’t get right; it is like taking a glimpse in a blind girl’s world.
We reached the store and I paid the driver the agreed amount. I once again entered the shop but for different reasons. The old lady appeared as if she hadn’t moved. Instead of loitering I went straight back to the room at the end of the shop. The girl was sitting in the same spot carving.
“Hello” I said a little too loudly probably forgetting that she wasn’t deaf as well. “Hi” the girl replied back. I stepped closer and the girl said “You’re the man from yesterday”, I was a little shocked and replied “I am, but how did you know?” The girl giggled and said “Same smelling aftershave.”
I took a look at her carvings and remarked at how beautiful they were. She thanked me and asked me where I was from, “I’m from Australia.” The girl nodded and continued carving. “This my sound rude” I said, “but have you been blind since birth?” She nodded again, “The people tell me it is the result of the Americans. The people who were around at the time of war say it is because they used a gas called Agent Orange. A lot of children die at birth now or are born with defects, I am one of them.” I felt a cold chill go down my spine at the way she delivered those last few words unemotionally.
I changed the subject and asked how she was able to carve. She explained that as a young child her father let her sit near him as he carved, and from there she began to use the tools herself on discarded pieces of wood. “I wasn’t very good to start off with but then people started pointing out where I went wrong and I would try again and again. I was desperate to be able to do something for my family.” That method had its limits and from there she started to have her grand mother and mother read to her at night so she could form her own images about the characters, settings and objects in their books. She then found that travellers who came into the store would tell her grand mother about far off destinations and she committed herself to learning English.
“You don’t really need sight” she said out of our silence, “If you close your eyes you are able to see things just as I am.” I pondered that while I handled some of her recently carved pieces of work. I promised to buy several before leaving.
I told her that I should be going but she pulled me towards one side of the room. “Before you leave I want to tell you about a story I was told as a young child.” As she paused she unlocked a cabinet with a key that was attached to a necklace around her neck. “When Christopher Columbus was close to landing in America the native Indians were unable to see their ships, their eyes and minds had never seen a ship before. It was only the medicine man that noticed a rippling on the water that was unnatural and from there he, over days, was able to create an image of what lay on the horizon.” The young girl took my hand and guided it onto an empty shelf. My body froze when my fingers touched an object that wasn’t there. I must be dreaming I thought – this isn’t possible.
“Welcome to my world” the girl said, “in your world these objects don’t yet exist but in mine they are common place.” Slowly colour formed on the object I was holding in my hands, it occurred to me that this was one of the rare pieces that the rickshaw driver had mentioned. “You may have it as a gift from me” the girl said as she led me out of the room.
I neglected to buy the other pieces and left the store in a daze.
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slenderpanther reviewed Version 1 -
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charliehorse reviewed Version 1 -
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The ending really disappointed me. I was hoping for more, what did he do with the special piece? Did he put it away or on display to share with others? Who did he share it with? In this ascent should be accent (In a quiet Vietnamese ascent the girl said hello). Any other typos or punctuation I will leave to someone else to acknowledge. All in all it was a good story, just add to the end a little.
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tia_logic reviewed Version 1 -
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There are some silly spelling/punctuation mistakes, IE:
P4 ascent = accent
P5 was (comma) why (period)
Your last line left me completely disappointed. The ending was very anticlimactic for me. I think you should tie it up better, less ‘and then I left the end”
“welcome to my world” Oh, please rack your brain for a non-cliche phrase there.
Your story is intersting, I liked it.
The only thing I’d really work on is flow. It seemed very ‘and then. and then. and then.’
hope that made snese.
Love, love.
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