(Fic) A memory

[drelfina]

(Inspired by Dark and Nezu)

I'd made a promise to myself, that any non-fandom stuff I put up here, especially RL, should be funny.

I break that promise.

These are memories that are not mine, but live in me now because the one who had them doesn't need them anymore.

Comments

[beachlass]

Oh DREL. I'm blinking away tears, and completely choked up.

[drelfina]

*hugs*

It's a memorial. Memories that belong to people and I had to make up a lot because the person who held them are gone.

*hugs*

I teared up writing it.

(Btw, where did you think it took place in? :D)

[nezumiko]

I'm weeping, face wet with tears. And you have the seeds of a book here, something wonderful that could be published and read and loved by not just the friends who adore you, but by thousands. Millions even. It's a beautiful, moving tribute to your grandfather, a wonderful sympathetic portrait, and beautifully written. The story of the boy scholar with his huge imagination who lived his whole life without ever reaching his potential is devastatingly tragic, and yet a kind of everyman story that we can all relate to, whether it took place in China and Malaysia and Australia, or in our own homes. And for readers not in Asia it's got a tinge of the exotic, of a place inaccessible, with stories of the Monkey King, and servants and superstitions.

Please do more with this. It's hauntingly beautiful. Some of your best work, I think.

[itcomesinphases]

Seconded.

I'd also like to add that this reminded me greatly of The Good Earth which I love to little pieces.

[drelfina]

thanks. <3

I dont' know The Good Earth, but if it's anywhere near like this memorial of immigrants, I think I'll cry.

[drelfina]

*hugs*

Thank you. I'm glad you like it. I don't have memories of my own to call upon, to write something equally beautiful as your and Dark's pieces, but these, these memories were something my mother used to tell me, and they aren't mine so much as hers and her father's. But he is gone now, and she only has her own version of them - I never could speak to my grandfather because we didn't speak the same dialect, and he didn't write to us by the time I/we got old enough to write something.

I could write it like how Amy Tan does it, or Catherine Lim, with touches of the fantastic but... I'm not the story teller he was, if my mother's stories hold true

[lazy_writer]

Oh. That was like a punch to the gut. Very powerful and beautiful.

You're a wonderful writer. *hug*

[drelfina]

*hugs*

Yeah. Memories are the most powerful because they're real.

And when stories are of real people...

Sometimes giving up dreams just. End like that.