By Scott Ting-A-Kee
The following chapters are excerpted from Scott Ting-A-Kee’s debut novella, “Red Hibiscus,” which he will be promoting later this month at CARIFESTA.
Chapter 1
Cracking Bones
The Late Shang Period, China.
Grandma Ling watched her grandsons working in the fields from her bedroom window. Her hands, wrinkled and callused, were clasped tightly around the stick of incense. She had just finished her early afternoon prayers. It was the hour of the goat and, as always, she could not keep herself from lamenting the fact that all their goats had died. It had been a difficult time for all the farmers during the last year. However, the glimpse of a favourable harvest was now in sight. The healing balm of prosperity had now come to balance the wounds of famine. Suddenly, her eyes were strangely heavy with sleep. Her aged body had predisposed her to give up when such battles ensued. Grandma Ling managed to walk slowly to her bed before drifting off into the world of dreams.
When she awoke, it was the hour when roosters return to their coop. She was sweating and her heart was palpitating. She looked out her window and realised that it was still early into the hour of the rooster. It was urgent for her to complete the task given to her while it was still fresh in her mind. She needed to hurry since age is the mortal enemy of memory, she thought. She lit a lantern and quickly made her way to where her grandsons kept their brands.
Grandma Ling waited until the hour of the dog was almost over and tiptoed to Mei’s room. She quietly opened the door.
Mei, Mei,” she whispered.
Mei, her youngest granddaughter, was always a light sleeper. Of all her grandchildren, she was the one who had the utmost respect for her. The others tolerated her presence but Mei genuinely loved her. That is why she was ideal to act as her assisting priestess.
Mei, Mei,” she continued to whisper.
Yes, Grandma Ling,” she replied sleepily.
“Come here, my dear.”
Mei walked over to her grandmother. The light of the lantern her grandmother held sent the last of her sleepiness fleeing.
“Do you love me, Mei?”
Yes, Grandma Ling.”
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes, Grandma Ling.”
“Then, light your lantern my child, we have an important task to attend to.”
“Yes, Grandma Ling.”
Mei dutifully followed her grandmother to the outhouse. The light of her lantern revealed a brand used for the cattle, two scapula bones of a cow, paper and ink.
“Mei, I have dreamt of the king. He was doing a reading for the future. In my dream, I saw every detail of this sacred ritual that is known only to royalty. I must recreate the process and make a special request.”
“Are you sure, Grandma Ling?”
“Yes. Start the fire. We must heat the brand.”
The old woman carefully placed the heated brand on the cattle scapulas until stress cracks created by the heat appeared. The bones cricked and cracked, forming an intricate pattern. She looked at the cracks solemnly as if a great message was being decoded. Mei looked on in awe and in fear since she was worried that senility had sunk its teeth into her grandmother’s brain. How else could she have changed so much after one long nap?
“Mei, write these words on the paper.”
Mei immediately set herself in a comfortable position to dictate her grandmother’s reading.
“In centuries to come, three will be born with the gift of knowing the future. They will have no need of cracking bones or turtle shells. Each will have priestly duties and they will see further than any diviner. Two will be of this soil— the chrysanthemum and the one with clear wisdom. The third will be from another land and the water lily will mark him.”
The next day Mei started the long, arduous journey to the capital to deliver the letter to the Emperor but a crow stole it from her bag. Mei was heartbroken and ashamed. In tears, she returned to her village. Grandma Ling smiled when she heard her sad tale and reassured her that all would be well.
Chapter 2
One Eye, Two Eyes
Springtime. 1420 A.D. China.
Cicadas. A sound that had special meaning for Ding Chu Hua. It was a full moon night but the air was silent. Still, she heard the cicadas singing louder and louder as she neared her destination. She had to meet this woman who had also seen what she saw in her night visions. She claimed to be a fellow seer and a priestess in her letter. Could it be possible for two people to see the same vision? What were these dreams? What did they mean? If it was to be taken on a literal level, how far in the future would these events be realised? Ding Chu Hua hoped that all these questions and many more would be answered when she finally met her.
The Ding family was part of the aristocracy as far back as the late Shang period; at least that’s what she was told. Ding Chu Hua. A delicate, porcelain doll. A sickly child. From the age of six, she berated her own body for being too weak and she saw herself as a burden to the family since she would cause so much anxiety. Her parents had to spend money on medicine men often. She would have to visit the temple daily to pray for her health and her interactions with the monks were more frequent and warmer than those which she had with her own parents. When she was six, her mother gave birth to her younger brother, Zhang Ki, the much yearned for male heir. Chu Hua, on the other hand, was given to the temple at the age of seven, while her brother lived the life of a true aristocrat.
The cover story about the cause of Chu Hua’s living at the temple— which her parents rehearsed as dutifully as their religious incantations—was a lie. The mother would say that she dreamt that a Taoist priest and a Buddhist monk came to her and told her that Chu Hua was destined to be a priestess. Being the devout, religious woman she was— or appeared to be— she gave her daughter without hesitation to the monks.
Indeed, dreams were the cause of Chu Hua’s being uprooted from her home but it was her own dreams that caused it. On her seventh birthday, Chu Hua fainted. Her parents did the usual routine and called for the medicine man. The sickly child was given medicine and put to bed. That night, it started. The dreams. Chu Hua’s gift had been awakened and her parents were terrified of her!
The first dream she saw was of her paternal uncle being killed by robbers. She was walking along a lonely path lined by fields. It was a typical, rural scene. She saw the carriage burning and the horses lay on the ground in a pool of blood. She boldly walked towards the scene of the crime. At the side of her eye, she noticed a body on the ground. The fire illuminated the immediate area, allowing her to see the face of the corpse. It was her uncle. His throat was slit and a knife was protruding from his chest.
She dreamt this same dream for two weeks straight. Every night. Little Chu Hua feared sleep. Then, they stopped in a sudden manner just as they had started. Three days passed and word reached the Ding household that Zhang Li, her father’s brother, had been attacked and killed by robbers. The description of the body matched Chu Hua’s vision perfectly. Her parents’ blood ran cold. They implored the monks of the local temple to please cure their daughter of her ailment, her curse.
“Please! This is my only daughter! I do not want her to become a monster,” her mother pleaded.
“This can also be a gift,” the monk stated.
“A gift that can only benefit the offspring of a youguai (yaoguai) or sinner destined for hell, not a pious woman like myself,” she retorted.
“Very well. Give her to me. Let her stay with me at the temple and I will purify her as best as I can,” the monk said in a subdued tone.
The old man lied to the parents. He knew that the child was given great spiritual power. If left on her own, her gift of foresight could drive her to insanity. He needed to guide her and help her to awaken her power more gradually. It was best for him to take her in than let her remain with her family, scorned and feared.
* * *
The men were lying in wait behind the shrubs, evading the light of the moon. Their dark attire made it easy for them to be camouflaged by their shadowy surroundings. Their swords shone in the moonlight as gouts of blood of the driver and other servants soared through the air. Chu Hua was trapped in the coach, surrounded by the cries of her servants.
Chu Hua awoke with a jolt. She needed to stop the coach before it was too late. She could still change their fate since the fork had not yet appeared in the road. She had a vision that robbers were going to attack her coach and all of the attending servants would be killed. She commanded the coach to halt and gave them strict orders to return to the capital while she continuedher journey on foot. They protested but she warned them that they would die if they hesitated. Chu Hua walked down a trail at the side of the road. She would have no one follow her.
Chapter 3
The Chrysanthemum
Early Autumn. 1407 A.D. A Temple. China.
Chu Hua was like a flowing stream: she just moved with the current and acquiescently let herself be swept away to the temple. She never complained and with dignity accepted her fate as the abandoned child. The temple child. It was expected for her head to be shaved but the head monk was against it. He knew her fate was to be something greater and powerful so he did not want her to be restricted to an austere life. The next three days were going to be the beginning of her training. Chu Hua was going to become a mighty diviner like Abe no Seimei.
The monks took Chu Hua into an inner room in the temple where the statutes of many different forms of Buddha and Chinese folk gods were stored. They gave her a garland of flowers, chrysanthemums to be exact.
“Why is it chrysanthemums?” she asked.
“Because your name means chrysanthemum,” the monk replied matter-of-factly.
“I hate my name.”
“But it is such a lovely name,” he reassured her.
“Why do I have to do this?”
“The garland represents you. Throw the garland with your eyes closed while mediating on sacred things. The statue that it lands on is the god you will show patronage to because he or she is the one who has given you the gift of clairvoyance.”
“You still have not answered my question, Master. Why do I have to do it?” she asked slightly irritated.
“Because this ritual is the first step to learning how to control your power.”
“If I must. If it will help me to deal with the dreams.”
Chu Hua did as she was told and the garland landed on the idol of Tao Yuanming, the Chinese folk god of the chrysanthemum.
“Your name is closely tied to your destiny. I will say this, though. You were born in autumn when chrysanthemums bloom and it may be the time when you will close your eyes in this world for the next.We will repeat this ritual tomorrow.”
Chu Hua was not bothered by the words of the old monk. She felt comforted by the thought that there was a god that cared so much about her. She felt happy. For the first time she thought that her curse of foresight might actually be a gift that would bring her a happy life.
The next day, they returned to the inner room where all of the idols were stored.
“Just like yesterday. Toss the garland, again,” the monk requested quietly.
Chu Hua did as she was told and when she opened her eyes the garland was snugly around the neck of Tao Yuanming.
“This is the first time that I have ever seen this happen,” said the old monk. He fell silent for about five minutes. He did not move an inch. His fingers tightened around the beadshe held.
“Chu Hua, pack your things. I am unfit to continue your training. I must take you to the only woman who can train you. We leave in two hours.”
