The Begin of Legend – Chapter 1

GUESS WHO INSTEAD OF SLEEPING, DECIDED TO WRITE A VIETNAMESE FOLKLORE FANFICTION.

Aka this is the story of how Vietnamese people came to life.

Author’s note: I write my interpretation of the story below:

http://en.vietnam.com/culture/art/fairy-tales/lac-long-quan-and-au-co-the-legend-of-ancient-vietnam.html

Which, you may know as how a dragon and a fairy fell in love.

 

 

The story took place when Vietnamese soil was still warm from the untamed lava bubbling beneath the Earth’s crust. Divine beings freely roamed the open fields with an innocent sense of humility, although they could raise mountains and freeze up the seas should they wish. They mostly felt alone. Timeless. For time had not existed back then, daylight and darkness were just like a flickering light. They were everything that exist yet felt like nothing in the wide wide world with endless greenery and stretching mountain ranges, followed by sun-shining blue sea. Their loneliness seeped from their footsteps into the ground as their movement formed the uneven panels of our country.

The fairies’ territory was on mainland, barricaded against the world by towering mountains. They reigned over forest animals and feasted on fruits of the purest growing. The chief of fairies was wise, but a man of firm traditions and boundaries. His ruling of course inspired complacence in his people. Not many would venture further than the protection of the mountains and forest lines for this was taught to be uncommon, even life-risking. Yet, the daughter of the chief cannot be confined within branches and tangled vines of the forest. She would regularly travel to lower lands. She was freer than any of her kind, her thirst for novelty and knowledge could not be quenched by any forest stream.

She was already warned of the danger outside, places where venomous and writhing creatures apparently ruled. Of deceptive shape-shifters and the unforgiving assault of salt water crashing onto land and drowning the tallest trees, suffocating the plant life of low lands. Yet she went because of unusual flowers and their scent in the warm winds. The way her voice would echoed against hollowed valleys. She was awed.

One day, she encountered a creature that was no fairy. While fairies would have soft, streaming hair and slim elegance wrapped in fair skin, this being towered with strength. His hair was unkempt and his skin a bronze brown colour not unlike fine wood. He looked as if build from stone, rough lines carved his physique to be intimidating. He was quiet, but his eyes glow gold under harsh sunlight. Watching her.

She placed a flower crown on his head.

“What are you?” He asked, scooting away. It was hard to feel intimidated by his novel physique if they were sitting in the middle of a flowery meadow. Especially when his movement caused dandelions to scatter to the sky, fluttering around him before being blown away by the wind.

“Âu Cơ, princess of fairies and heir to Đế Lai, the Mountain King.”

“Why are you here?” He looked as if he didn’t believe her. As if he had never seen a fairy.

“I like the low lands. So beautiful. And what are you?”

“I live here.” He hadn’t removed the flower crown on his head.

“You must know so much about the low lands. I’ve only started travelling here after my Coming of age.”

“I think you shouldn’t be here.”

“Why?” She asked, standing up. There’s a strange sensation where her heart rate quickened and her wings itched to sprout. The feeling was foreign, what would later be known by her descendants as Fear.

“You don’t belong here. You won’t be able to handle the harshness of low lands. Return to where you come from and rid yourself of unnecessary anguish.”

“I shall not. For only I tell myself what I can and cannot handle.”

Now she noticed the man was carrying a large blade at his waist band. The sheath was adorned with gleaming scales but coloured a gradient of silver and green. Her father warned her of how fairies might be burned by metal. She never knew what it was. Could this sword be made of metal?

The being scrutinized her with his hand on the handle of his weapon. Âu Cơ took a step back, tunic flowing up in the strong wind. She would take off if she must. Lower land beings couldn’t fly, that was what her father said.

“You don’t seem to be youkai in disguise. I shall spare you. But heed my words: should you bring terror to my citizens, I will not hesitate to slay you like a youkai.”

And with that, the being vanished from sight, leaving Au Co alone to the silence of open meadow.

She would definitely come back.

 

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Kẻ Mơ Mộng Viển Vông thật sự.

Bạn đã từng bao giờ có cảm giác mình nhìn đời thực tế hơn người khác?

Thôi, đừng cố gắng kiềm chế nụ cười của mình bằng vẻ mặt ngơ ngác và cái lắc đầu ngây thơ nữa.

Chúng ta hay an ủi bản thân rằng mình có chút gì đó khác thường so với người ta, có chút gì đó “hơn” dù chỉ một tẹo, đằng sau tấm màn của tiềm thức. Đó là bản năng của ta. Như vậy cũng chẳng phải nhỏ nhen đâu, vì bạn chỉ đang thực hiện những gì mà các cụ tổ từ thời con người đi bằng cả tay và chân đã từng làm thôi: “thằng khỉ kia què thì nó sẽ không bắt được mồi nhanh như mình, nhỉ? Mình chỉ cần nhanh hơn nó thôi.”

Continue reading “Kẻ Mơ Mộng Viển Vông thật sự.”

The Death Card of the Tarot Deck.

It is probably common knowledge that the card Death does not imply that you its picker dies anytime soon in the future. It is also widely known that this card represents the end and the beginning, revival and reborn.

Before any Tarot professionals start terrorizing me, I just want to make a personal point. That is the end of something cannot possibly occur without a certain amount of…death.

Continue reading “The Death Card of the Tarot Deck.”

Through the Looking Lens

 

He was smiling as if he saw the most beautiful creation. I couldn’t help grinning myself; his happiness is contagious. He asked me to pose for him again. “Could you turn your face just a little bit? There!” “The light across your cheeks is just perfect, great angle.” I did. The camera gave a sound similar to a mechanical giggle.

I feel light-headed; his attention is addictive. No one had ever paid this much attention to me because in a world where almost every teenager saw the protagonist when they looked into the mirror every morning, I don’t expect scrutiny. I don’t act for attention, so no one provides me with it. I’m not the daft hero swinging a gleaming sword under a thousand suns. Not the princess who saved herself. Not important enough a character to have a decent family name in the book.

Somehow, he saw something special in me. Special enough to lift his camera and tell me to “look here.” He was like a young fan fiction writer who chose to write a lengthy character review on a minor character for fun. And as a minor character who wondered when would my own story ever started, I felt damn special.

Continue reading “Through the Looking Lens”

Về Ngoại (5/6/2016).

 

Người ta hay nói cuộc sống là vô vàn những đổi thay. Tôi tự hỏi có bao nhiêu người nhận ra rằng đôi khi thay đổi đến từ sự trưởng thành của bản thân họ, chứ không phải là từ chuyển động một vòng bốn mùa của Trái Đất hay chuyển biến trong lòng người khác.

Đây là mục truyện tôi viết về đợt ra Bắc hè này. Tôi chỉ ‘về’ được khoảng hai tuần, ở Hà Nội với nhà ngoại một nửa thời gian, còn bảy ngày còn lại tôi sẽ thăm ông bà nội và cô chú. Lần ra Bắc này tôi đã tự nhủ rằng sẽ là lần cuối cùng (hết hè tôi lên lớp 12), đã còn nói với rất nhiều bạn bè như vậy (sau này mới thấy thật ấu trĩ vì thi thố xong năm sau còn bao nhiêu thời gian để làm gì?). Tôi đã thật sự tin là như vậy, nên những trải nghiệm ở đây đều ám màu tăm tối mang tên ‘cuối cùng’. Nhưng cũng nhờ cái màu nhờ nhợ đó mà tôi nhìn thấy được biết bao những vệt màu bị tô lấp lên bởi ánh hồng ấu trĩ trước đây, thấy được biết bao những vấn đề mà đôi mắt trẻ con của tôi đã không thấy.

Continue reading “Về Ngoại (5/6/2016).”

In Love With A City

He was lying to face me with his head snuggled in my laps. He had been talking and I had been listening for hours. He was my something but I am not even anything to him, I guess. But I liked to hear him talk. I wanted to know what I had in common with him.

“Do you know what it is like to be in love with a city?” he asked, his eyes shining and it was not a trick of the light. He was light himself, despite his dark clothes and messy hair. I ran my hand through the black mess, just to mess it up further the way I liked.

Continue reading “In Love With A City”