Written for Sunday Photo Fiction. A story about love and heartbreak begins after the photo.
Word Count: 400
“Mom. I want to meet, Dad.”
“How did we meet? Well, it was on the family boat.” She pointed at the model sampan. The detail was exquisite. Even scraps of food left on dirty dishes were present.
“No, Mom, I said…”
“I was the most beautiful girl in our fishing village during the war,” she smiled wistfully. “Some say the most beautiful in all Japan. But I was alone. Momma and Poppa had died in a storm. Everyone was hungry, but no young men knocked on my door to help me or even court me. Everyone knew I was a sorceress, taught the old ways by my grandmother. The whole village shunned me.
“One day, I saw an American parachute from his plane. He was bleeding to death when I pulled him out of the water. I used my powers to heal him. He was no good to me dead, because then I couldn’t turn him in for food. When he awoke, he looked at me with his wonderful green eyes, like the finest jade. I decided to put him to work on the boat until I tired of him. Weeks went by working together, his muscular body shining in the sun, a ready smile that warmed me inside. One day he touched me. I felt a jolt from that tiny contact, and a heat burned inside me.
“I could resist him no more. I was lonely, and here was this glorious man, needing me, wanting me. I fell for him, and we became lovers. I never imagined gaijin would be so well…equipped.”
“Eww, Mom. Please don’t!” begged Hiro. “Just, what happened to him?”
“Well, I kept him hidden until the war finally ended. I was 7 months pregnant when American soldiers came to my door and discovered him. That’s when I learned he was married,” Her eyes darkened. “I could have forgiven that, but in a mere moment, he decided to return to her. He wanted to leave me. ME! Pregnant! He could do no better than me! So I did what I had to do.”
“Mom, you didn’t…”
“I didn’t hurt him, mostly, but the fool scorned a sorceress. He deserved it.” She knocked on the glass case, and a tiny man emerged from the sampan. He shook his fist at her from the railing. She pointed. “Go ahead, talk to your father. He knows some Japanese. Mostly curse words.”
Each Sunday, Alastair Forbes presents an original photograph as a writing prompt. The stories may be 100-200 words long (400 in an emergency). I seem to have emergencies often. Here’s this week’s prompt: http://sundayphotofictioner.wordpress.com/2013/11/10/sunday-photo-fiction-november-10th-2013/