The little green buds had started to dot the branches along the tree-lined street. They shimmied as Mina rushed past them. She wanted to get away from the noisy crowd of students and anything to do with school. Her gait slowed as she walked up to the house she had lived in since she could say, “Ma.” It was not large; a two-story raised ranch surrounded by trees. For a certain kind of imagination, the plain white house could be transformed at whim and turned into a castle on a hill.

Mina searched under the doormat for the key. As soon as she entered, she closed the door and let out a huge sigh of relief. It was as if she had held her breath the entire day going from geography to math to biology. English was a relief because her teacher was good, but all the rest, she could do without. She dropped her backpack with a soft thud. She took out and ate the half eaten rice rolls from her lunchbox. She was glad to be home even if to an empty house.

Two choices lay before her, up or down. She contemplated going up the stairs, but invariably, she walked down, as she did each day after school. The first floor had long before served as a generous guest suite. The moldy bathroom, the bare, dusty bedroom, and the empty kitchen were now forgotten corners of the house. Aside from the piano and the threadbare couch in the room, the first floor was used only as entry to the one-car garage. To Mina, the first floor felt palatial, if only because it was hers, the quarters for a princess.

Mina sat at the piano beside the non-working fireplace. She rubbed the green stone she had picked up while walking home. Mother had bought the piano when Mina was four years old. It was the color of walnut and worth more than any of the used furniture in the house. From where she sat on the bench, she could look out through the sliding glass door and into the backyard forest. Where was mother? The sun had turned and as it set it left its shadow. A longing stirred, a pang from deep within her belly. Hold it in. Squeeze and hold it in. Don’t cry now. She rubbed the stone wishing for truer things to come.

She placed her hand over the piano and brushed the tips of her fingers over the black and white keys. Instinctively, her black cat sauntered over, stretched its limbs, then nonchalantly curled up beside her. Today, the Fantasy by Mozart was calling through the portal. A chamber into the music of the spheres opened up beneath her fingers. Swoosh. A balmy breeze. Then up and away. She was flying, the wind whistling and combing her hair as she ascended. Dulcet tones of one-hundred harps in arpeggiated glissando filled the sky.

Once upon a time, there lived a girl who lived in a castle. The villagers had all wanted to see the little girl as soon as she was born, but the king and queen forbade it. She was their only child and very precious to them. She was so precious that she was kept inside the far reaches of the castle towers where nobody could find her. One day when the king and queen left the palace for a long journey, the princess ventured out of her room. Since the servants had not seen the girl in a long time, they did not treat her as the delicate princess. She was dressed like a commoner, and she possessed neither great beauty nor wit. They assumed she was one of the maidʼs daughters.

One day, she entered the bowels of the castle where the chief cook stirred a delicious smelling pot over a blaze of fire. The cook wore her grey hair pulled up to a bun, but loose strands kept falling across her round face. She wiped her brow with her spare hand, then pulled the boiled noodles out with a long wooden chopstick. She placed the steaming noodles in concentric circles onto a celadon bowl. The princess stole a thread of noodles from the bowl with her bare fingers.

“Aigoo! Donʼt touch,” the cook said. “Go wash your hands first.”

The princess returned with clean hands and was barely seated before slurping down the noodles. Her last bite came too quickly and she wished the noodles would never end. The princess said, “I wish this noodle would last forever.”

The cook nodded in approval. “Eat more.” She had decided the girl needed fattening up.

“What are your other two wishes?” the cook asked.

The princess swallowed, then tapped her chin as she did when deep in thought. She said, “I wish I had a best friend.”

The cook looked at the pearl comb adorning the princessʼs long hair and said, “A good friend is hard to find and an old friend is as precious as pearls. What is your last wish?”

“How about wishing for two more wishes?” The princess asked boldly.

“Thatʼs against the rules,” the cook said.

After some time, the princess said, “I wish I had a big brother or a little sister.

The cook sat down with two green mugs filled with tea. She had not sat down all day. The princess drank and drank until her belly was full. When the cook was about to rise, she felt a tug on the back of her apron. The princess took out her pearl comb and pinned it on the cookʼs hair. Then, she rubbed the smooth exterior of the mug until her hands had warmed, until she could rub it no more.

Clack clack. Metal brushed against metal, not wood against string. Mina turned around.

Grandmother sat knitting on the couch. Her black cat lay on the floor furiously pawing at the spool of yarn unwinding beside grandmother’s slippers.

“Halmoni, you’re back!” Mina ran to embrace her. Her hand-knit sweater was soft and she smelled of fresh dough. Mina leaned against Halmoni’s plump shoulder. The knitted swath had a yellow zigzag pattern.

“I don’t understand that kind of music,” Halmoni said. “I never learned as a child.”

Halmoni was born on the eastern coast of South Korea. She grew up on the farm, sewing and embroidering flowers on silk hanboks. There was no formal schooling for girls.

“You don’t have to learn music to understand it. Just feel it, Halmoni.”

“Easy for you. It all sounds like koon-check-chack to me,” Halmoni swayed her thick body as if moving to the beat.

“It’s not a polka,” Mina giggled.

“You certainly got your love of music from your mother. When she was a girl, we called her Little Songbird.” Halmoni groaned as she stood up. “Who has the time now.” Her legs were always giving her trouble.

“Where is mother and father?” Mina asked.

“Working late.” Halmoni tilted her glasses to better look at Mina and added, “They went to church after work.”

Today was Thursday. Mina wondered why they were at church when choir practice was on Fridays. She thought no further when as they climbed up the stairs someone from outside yelled.

“Hustle, boy!”

Halmoni paused to rest at the landing. Mina stood next to Halmoni and peered through the small window beside the front door. Big boxes lay on the neighbor’s front porch.

When Halmoni had caught her breath she said, “Looks like the friendly yellow-haired family moved out. Who could the new neighbors be?”

Mina’s eyes grew wide as she spied a big boy carrying a black case, the shape of a casket, into the house. The tall man wore a cowboy hat and carried a similar case on his back. Mina once read about a couple who collected skeletons of little children in the basement. She shuddered to think what could be in the cases.

“Come on, Halmoni. Let’s go upstairs.” She did not like to stay on the first floor when it grew dark. They climbed the rest of the stairs and settled into Halmoni’s bed. They played several rounds of the game baduk. It did not take long for the white stones to encircle the black.

Mina hated to lose.

After several rounds of baduk, Halmoni said, “Time to sleep.” Sleep was the last thing on Mina’s mind. Just one more game and she could win.

“One more time. Please, just one more game,” Mina begged.

“Aigoo, Mina-ya. Time to sleep.” Halmoni said again. Mina tapped her chin. “Ok, but can I sleep in your bed tonight?” Mina looked imploringly. Halmoni undid her hair and placed the pearl comb next to her glasses. She nodded. It would not be long before her favorite eleven-year old would outgrow the habit. Mina sorted the black and white stones into their wooden jars, placed them on top of the folded baduk board, then moved it under the bed. She climbed under the covers and curled her small frame next to Halmoni. When Halmoni turned off the lights, a symphony of sirens grew loud then diminished into a decrescendo. Shadows flitted across the wall each time a car passed by. Mina asked, “Halmoni, can you tell me a story?”

“So now you want a bedtime story.”

“How about the three princesses. Or about the woodcutter and the ax. Or the crane on the Lake…”

Just then, Mina heard the garage door open and close from beneath her. Mother had returned. Father would arrive next and then tell her to sleep in her own room. Immediately, Mina folded under the covers and said, “Nevermind, Halmoni. I’m going to sleep now.”

Mina did not want to see her parents as she had earlier. She would do anything to stay with Halmoni. When mother opened the bedroom door, she peered in and said, “Asleep already.”

Mina held her breath. Don’t turn on the lights. Don’t make me sleep in my room.

“Was there any trouble?” Mother asked.

“Not at all.” The wiry bed shook as Halmoni sat up. Mina did not stir and kept her face as still as a mask. “Let me fix you something to eat.”

Halmoni rose slowly out of the bed. The bed frame shook and squeaked far too noisily, but Mina did not move an inch. Once Halmoni shut the door, Mina breathed in deeply. She curled into the warm space where Halmoni was just lying. Lingering thoughts of the day floated in her mind of how mother did not ask about her nor bothered to stroke her hair. Thoughts spiraled and swirled until a wave of slumber came and with it, a pleasant forgetfulness.

Work Sample – Inciting Incident

Her fingers roamed the piano keys the way she wandered through the forest foraging for fiddleheads. She felt the wind blow through her fingers. Today the song, “Jeannie with the Light Brown Hair,” was calling her. It was mother’s favorite. She pictured mother as a schoolgirl with creaseless eyes singing front and center in the school choir. Her mouth a round circle and her gaze fixed upwards. Her fluty voice a lark ascending. Sometimes mother came downstairs when Mina played. When they played and sang together, Mina’s chest swelled. Then she wished for the song to never end. Her hopes for mother to join her vanished when she heard father shout, “Ya! Who do you think you are!”

Every word a thunderous boom. Mother’s high-pitched cry was halting and immediate. Mina stopped playing.

She had seen father’s rage before, sudden outbursts that seemed unprompted. It started when he criticized mother. Most often, mother held her tongue. When on the occasion she did talk back, she muttered to herself, her back turned to him. He challenged her to speak louder and say what she really thought to his face, but she did not take the bait. She talked to herself hesitatingly, in short staccatos, but he believed she was insulting him under her breath. He hissed taking in quick, short breaths from the corners of his mouth. He claimed to hear her insubordination, or at least the tone behind it. He growled, dared her to say it forthright to his face.

This went on for some time until mother snapped, “You think I’m some piece of dirt? I’m a saint. God sees me. Take a look at yourself because the devil is having a field day with you. Get away from me, devil!”

It was as if mother swallowed one too many of his insensitive remarks. She spat it back to him, an unrestrained litany of his faults. Her eyes blazed with renewed vigor, each insult recalled and rebuffed. If a woman’s pride and dignity had a shape and color, mother’s appeared as a peacock’s tail, purple, teal, black and royal blue. Mother fanned and flapped her illustrious tail. She made herself heard whether he wanted to hear it or not.

That his own wife talked back to him in such unrestraint rendered him speechless. His red cheeks puffed up. His eyes narrowed. Then, the fury of a common brand rose within him. The tremor of the house and all of its contents were on the verge of collapsing. The heavy movement of something hitting against the wall and falling to the ground reverberated with a percussive thud.

“Look what you did!” mother cried. No answer from father. Just the movement of heavy steps and the bedroom door slammed.

Mina jumped towards the stairwell. Before she turned the doorknob, she thought she heard feet shuffling. Then, stony silence. Mina walked up the stairs one creaking step at a time. She held her breath. Kitchen chairs upturned. White napkins tossed in all directions. Plates scattered across the kitchen counter, stained orange-red kimchi. Her teeth started to chatter. Her breath came in gasps. Squeeze, release, squeeze.

Mina felt a pang deep inside her stomach. Not the kind she felt when scared or when she felt vomit coming up. She was as though she were inside a cave calling out to someone, anyone, but nobody heard. Nobody cared. It was an emptiness that made her want to cry, but tears don’t come. Just the pang.

A deep groan came from down the hallway. Mina crept towards the bathroom. She gripped the edges of her cotton shirt twisting and turning it. From the reflection in the bathroom mirror, mother was washing her face. Then, her hands slammed the countertop in a fit of defeated rage.

Mina jumped back in alarm releasing her twisted shirt.

Mother cried, “He’s crazy, you know. The devil lives in him!”

Halmoni rubbed her back, back and forth. She murmured something and handed her a pill. Mother swallowed it, then splashed her swollen face with more water. Through the bathroom window, the shadowy leaves swayed to and fro.

The full moon lingered, then shut its eye.