Tsin's Past(My 1st Short Story)

The sun is peeking over the horizon. Its hazy streams of light penetrate through the windows along the cloistered corridor. Tendrils of shadows stretch themselves up the walls until their heads touch the arched ceiling. They form an intriguing archway illusion which gradually diminishes towards a dark, hollow room in the farthest end of the age-worn walkway.

From the other end of the corridor, Tsin is inching in the direction of the room. The remnant cold of last night’s heavy rain sends a shiver through her thin, frail body. She instinctively pulls her collar tighter around her sagged neck. The sun rays that pour in can hardly mitigate the chill. She would have made nothing of it had she been in her teens. How fast time has elapsed. No one can stay young and fit forever. She sighs and draws a deep breath. The damp, fetid smell of the peeling walls invades her nostrils, making her wonder when the building was abandoned. Could it be in mid 1940s or late 1950s? She shakes her head in uncertainty. The corridor was once filled with fresh, resinous scent of pine trees from the woods outside. The walls seemed to be breathing in their lush blue paint and the Laughter of children vibrated through the air. It was a place where goodwill thrived, happiness equally shared and grief forgotten. Though staying in the orphanage for a mere two years, the fond memories she has will remain etched in the depths of her heart forever.

Tsin’s parents died of tuberculosis in close succession when she was six. Orphaned at such a tender age, she was constantly feeling afraid, grieved, confused and insecure. She had been handed from one relative to another like an unwanted rag doll for two years before being sent to the orphanage at the age of eight. The moment she entered the building, her heart was full of misgiving towards the caretakers, Mr Baker and his wife. They looked so much different from the locals with their taller stature, their paler skin, their non-dark brown eyes and their higher noses. Would they be treating her as bad as her relatives or even worse? Her fear was allayed when Mrs. Baker put her little hands gently in hers and spoke to her in foreigner-accented Chinese, “Don’t worry, Tsin, you are at home now.” The woman’s voice was so calm and soothing. Her bluish eyes sparkled with motherly love and compassion. Mr Baker was standing beside the gentle lady, smiling. He also exuded the same kindness. She used to think that she would never feel it again in her life. Overcome by a sudden surge of grief, she threw herself into Mrs. Baker’s arms and cried. In her young mind, she knew she had found a safe sanctuary. The couple was kind to her. Whenever she woke up crying from a nightmare, they would be sitting by her bedside to comfort her. Though the orphanage was not a rich missionary organization, there was always enough food and clothing for every child. She felt much more secure emotionally.

Tsin is now standing outside the dark room. It is the one and only classroom in the orphanage. She remembers it as the most cheerful place in the building. It is where she and the other children learnt how to read and write in English. Mr and Mrs. Baker were able to make every learning session a fun and lively experience. They understood the needs of the children and never singled anyone out for their love and attention. They also introduced them to Jesus Christ, the son of God who had brought salvation to the world through his death and resurrection. Tsin loved praying. It gave her strength to cope with her loss of parents. As such, the room has a special place in her heart. A smile crosses her lips as she recalls how the room looked in the past . If she is not wrong, its windows were draped with white lace curtains. Children’s drawings and strips of gospel quotations were pasted on the walls, giving the room a warm, colourful look. There was a book shelf against the back wall. It was a treasure trove of knowledge, containing many story books, bibles and encyclopedias. A bronze cross was placed loftily above the blackboard which spanned across the front wall. It seemed to bless every person and item in the room with its lustrous metallic glow. Facing the blackboard were three rows of neatly-arranged wooden desks and chairs. Tsin liked to take the front seat in the middle row. She wanted to have a better view of what was written on the blackboard and hear the stories told by the priest and his wife more clearly. Interposed between the blackboard and the children desks was a table used by the couple. The vase of flowers on it added more delight to the room.

Tsin gazes into the room. She can see films of tangled cobwebs hanging thickly from the ceiling. They glint off the vague light that steals in through the door-less entrance. In the pale dimness, she can make out the outlines of some scattered, overturned desks and chairs on the floor. She sighs and walks into the room. The strong smell of dust almost chokes her. She has to keep brushing the tenuous threads of cobwebs off her body while moving inside. The darkness makes her uneasy. She decides to open the windows to let the light in. She feels her way along the left wall, trying to find the location of the windows based on her memory. She left the orphanage at the age of ten. Her youngest uncle from Sarawak found out that she was in the orphanage and decided to adopt her. He had been close to her family before moving to Sarawak. Tsin was touched by her uncle’s sincerity and agreed to go to Sarawak with him. Her tears fell like rain on the day she bade farewell to everyone in the orphanage. Mr and Mrs. Baker gave her a bible as a token of parting. They conducted a service to bless her before she set off for the harbor with her uncle. After twenty-five days of sailing, she reached Sarawak and began a new life. Her uncle owned a small vegetable farm in the British colony. His wife was a small, soft-spoken lady who could not conceive. Her presence was able to fill the childless void in their life. When she was twelve, Japan invaded Sarawak and life was hard under their occupation. However, her family was able to pull through the difficult period. Two years after the Japanese surrendered, she met the man of her destiny and got married. He was a humble teacher who taught in a Chinese primary school. They were blessed with three boys and one daughter. Though content with life, she had always recalled her time in the orphanage. She missed Mr and Mrs. Baker. She always told her children how good the couple had been to her.

Tsin has reached one of the windows. She turns the lever handles with both hands and opens the wooden shutters. Dust flies everywhere and a shaft of light floods in. She squints against the morning brilliance and lets the incoming wind caress her cheeks. However, the air reeks of noxious chemical odours. The stretch of woods beside the orphanage was leveled for the construction of roads and factories many years ago. Nature has always succumbed to this prevailing trend of modernization. The shady woods were the favourite haunt of Tsin and her friends. They enjoyed ambling through the tapestry of trees in hot afternoons, admiring the scenery and picking flowers without a care in the world. It never occurred to them that the woods would suffer such a fate. The thought of this brings tears to her eyes. She feels like she has lost a dear friend. How many people will actually mourn the demise of the woods like her? She dries her tears and proceeds to open the other windows. Instantly, the room becomes alive with light. Her eyes glide across the room, absorbing the sight that unfolds before her. The walls, which were once laden with children’s drawings and bible quotations, are totally bare. The book shelf against the back wall is gone too. There are only a few chairs left on the floor. Like what she has previously seen in the dark, they are either upended, tipped on their sides or lay in fragments. Her eyes now settle on the front wall. She is quite surprised to see the blackboard remain intact in its place. Similarly, the bronze cross still hangs above the blackboard. It has turned black with age, losing much of the sheen that is vivid on her mind.

Tsin is making her way to the centre of the room with slow, deliberate steps. She wants to find the spot where her seat was once situated. When she is sure of where it is, she kneels down on the dust-layered floor. It causes sharp pain to her rheumatic knees but she does not care. She gazes up at the cross, eyes turning misty again.

Many foreign missionaries remained in China during the Second World War. She intuitively believes that Mr and Mrs. Baker were among them. Their selflessness in caring for the orphans is unquestionable and it is unlikely of them to leave the children behind for their own safety. Did they survive the extreme adversity of the war? If they did, did they join the mass exodus of missionaries from China when the country was declared a republic in 1949? Most of those who had opted to stay behind for the sake of their flocks were caught and imprisoned. Religion was denounced as people's enemy in China then. She hopes nothing bad happened to them but it is a wishful thinking.

Tsin’s uncle died in his sleep when she was thirty-four. After four years, his wife joined him. She took their death very hard but was able to get over her grief through prayers. Time lapped and receded, all her children grew up and finished their university education. They became successful professionals and got married one after another, having children of their own. She and her retired husband enjoy their status as grandparents. If the Baker couple had not taken her in, all this happiness would not have been hers. She could have been unscrupulously sold for money like what has befallen many other unfortunate orphans in China, suffering child abuse without having a chance to be adopted by his uncle and to meet her husband.

Tsin is now seventy-six. She finds herself very well-blessed for being able to set foot on the soil of Chung-san, her hometown again after sixty-four years. Some of her friends could not live that long to return to their birthplaces in China. She reached the Gwangdong town with her husband and two of her children two days ago. She was filled with relief when her children found out that the orphanage is still standing from the locals. They came to the derelict building this early morning. She was overwhelmed with strong emotions each time she saw familiar things in the building. The moment they came to the cloistered corridor, she insisted on going into the classroom on her own. She wanted to have a personal moment with it. She had missed it too much.

“Mama, are you okay?”

A soft female voice speaks from behind her. It interrupts her litany of memories. She looks over her shoulder and sees Yong Shi, her forty-nine year-old daughter standing behind her. She can also see her seventy-eight year-old husband, Nam and her fifty-three year-old eldest son, Yong Chin, smiling at her at the doorway. Her other children cannot come to Chung-San because they are busy with their work in Sarawak. The sight of them makes her feel calm.

“I’m alright,” replied Tsin with a nod. “Just recalling the past.”
“We will ask more locals about the whereabouts of Mr Baker and his wife.” said Nam. He looks lovingly at his wife.
“Mama, I am sure we can get some reliable information about them,” reassured her son.
“That’s very nice of you,” said Tsin, her face smiling. “It’s okay even if you can’t find anything. The past is too blur and distant for us to grasp.”

Yes, the past is blur and distant. But love is everlasting. Mr and Mrs. Baker will always be remembered for their love and kindness in her heart. Her uncle and his wife will remain in her memory too.

Tsin asks her husband and children to kneel down beside her. She leads them in saying a prayer of thanksgiving to God. Love binds their hearts together. It transcends time and boundaries.

(The story is bad, isn't it?)