Inconceivable
Never had Teng Hui-ning walked home without a loaf of bread in her hands. That is, until today.
Ever since World War 8 had begun, the shortages had resumed. They had only been taken back for a short while. The impact on the world was beautiful. Children were laughing and dancing in the streets, holding large festivals and feasts that entire cities would attend. The sound of church bells never ceased to ring for days on end. Peace was restored at last.
Nothing good could ever last. It returned only months later, with a raid on Serbia that brought Poland and the weakened country to a brutal war. When asked of the reasoning for the raid, the leader of Poland replied, “They stopped shipping their products to us.” Everyone knew this was a lie. There was no use denying the fact that the government wanted the war.
Meng-tian left home again. He was immediately deployed when the war hit China, in fact. Hui’s father had survived the past two wars, and he was prepared to survive the next one. When she wandered in to ask for him to help her get some water at night, she would always find him praying. Praying that the last war, this war, the next war was or is the last one. Hui would stand in the doorway, clutching her little cup, waiting for him to finish. She didn’t want to interrupt bàba. When he finally stood, she would murmur, “Will you help me?” Her voice would croak from lack of water, but his was always worse. He would simply nod and push her out of the room, leading her down the hallway and into the basement where the spring was. They would get her some water, and they would both go to bed. Not a single sound could be heard throughout the entire house during the night.
Hui awoke to a strange lack of fireworks that morning. The months following the end of World War 7 had made the sound of fresh firecrackers ring in her ears. She made her bed, combed her hair, and wore two layers of clothing; t-shirt, sweatpants, a blue and white ruqun given to her by her mother, and sandals. The old dress’ sleeves hung over her arms, which made it easier to survive the cold winter months. As fall reached its end, the worst season for war was on the horizon.
She had quietly passed the rooms of her mother and younger brother An. They were both night owls and didn’t want to be awoken at 6:30, especially by their daughter. She took off her sandals again as she crept by, only putting them back on when she reached the front door of their cottage. Cottages were less common now, with most families retreating to apartments or simply hopping from place to place, trying to find their next meal. While their home was falling apart, it was a roof to live under and fully supported the family of four. Though a piece of fruit sat on the table, she left it there. An liked oranges more than she did.
In the city, many people were all ready awake. Hui took her chances and woke up at the time she did, even though most groceries were supposed to be gone by then. She hurried through the mass clumps of people and slid her way through to make it to the main store. When she got inside, she slammed her body against the wall next to the front door. As people passed and passed, the large amounts of people began to lessen. 30 minutes and she could see the aisles. She carefully stepped out and continued to creep until she made it. Fresh Breads, $8.50 a loaf. Hungry, scantily clad men, women, and children scrambled to get a piece. She squeezed through again; at this precise time, every day, she could get a nice loaf for a discount. Her mother knew the baker well, which made for good relations with most of the store.
When she reached the plastic display case, she had begun to realize just how many people were here today. Saturdays had always been busy, but not... this busy. She had been shoved into the case and not even offered a hand as she slid to the ground; they simply made a path around her. Children screeched, men bellowed, and women clicked their tongues in annoyance. The heat rose, making Hui want to shed her robes for something more comfortable. She turned, trying to lift herself up, but only made finger marks on the bottom of the case. The crowds diminished once again. She finally pulled herself up, breathing heavily. The baker looked down on her in disappointment and pity.
“It’s gone.”
The words didn’t receive in her ears. Rather, she couldn’t believe just what was going on. He probably said something else, but she couldn’t hear. Her eyes were fixated on the glass case.
Every single loaf of bread, the bread that had gotten her family through every day so far, was gone.
The way it tasted was distinct. Spicy, with a hint of brown sugar. A piece of it could fill you up for a day. In a sandwich, maybe a week. It was the “magic bread”, one of An’s first words, and the reason Hui didn’t give up trying to feed her family.
She continued to stare blankly at the case. It was gone. She would have to find something else. Gone. Even though she had the money, she continued to feel remorse. She had failed, let her family down, maybe even starved them. Her entire existence flashed before her eyes; dirt, bones, and magic bread.
The thought of not walking home with a loaf of it for the week, of not smelling it selfishly, crinkling little pieces of the wrapping for entertainment, and wondering what they would do with the bread tonight...
it was simply inconceivable.
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Based off of LJ Idol's topic this week. This baby doubles as a sneak-preview of an upcoming journal project. Stay tuned!