by Alana Terry
CHAPTER 2
In science class last week, we talked about a storm having a bit of quiet right in the middle of it, and I hafta admit, Teacher, at first it sounded like you’d never been in a flood like ours or maybe you wouldn’t talk about stuff and nonsense like that. But then again, I got to thinking maybe you was right, ’cause before the floods came, in between the visit from the mudang and the day the river crashed through our house, our family got to a place where things stayed calm. ’Least for a short time.
After the witch woman ate that soup, Mama didn’t lie around staring at the wall no more, Papa went to work and even catched enough fish for us to trade for some noodles, and me and Min-Jung stayed out of too many fights. Mama stopped cooking for ghosts, so ’course I waked up hungrier than usual, but it’s almost like the cold. Your body can feel the difference between ice-packing cold and snot-freezing cold, so it’s not like all cold is the same. But on the other hand, you’re kinda miserable either way, so it don’t really matter. That’s what it was like for me when Mama stopped her ghost cooking.
One thing I don’t know if you’ve ever had is a hunger dream. I miss those, truth be told. The way it works, see, is your body’s so hungry it just decides to pretend you’re eating all night long. You get these dreams of pork and juices, all salty and covered in onions. Or steamed ribs and carrots with sauce so greasy I could never eat a meal of it in real life without Mama taking down the spanking spoon on account of the mess I made, except ’course in my dreams Mama’s too busy cooking to worry about pounding me. And there’s thin cuts of beef smothered with soy sauce and sesame oil and whatnot. It’s getting my mouth all watery even writing it all out, and I had a whole plate full of peanut butter cookies just a little bit ago.
Well, the famine was getting on so that the only good food there was to be had come from my dreams. I guess I shoulda known then I was one of the lucky ones on account of Papa being a fisherman and all, but when you’re that little and your tummy’s always growling, you don’t know enough to be grateful you have plain old fish every day.
So we were in this calm spell after the witch run off the spirit that had been hanging around our house. Even though it meant no more snacks at night, it was all right with me that the ghost up and left ’cause for once Mama weren’t so upset-like, and if you knowed Mama, you’d know she didn’t go for the spanking spoon nearly as often if she was in a good mood.
Anyway, I had this dream one night after the mudang left where I was eating piles and piles of food. Mama was in the kitchen, and Min-Jung was helping her, and as soon as I emptied my plate, my sister would fill it with something so hot it was still sizzling, except I didn’t get my tongue burnt none. So I was shoveling it in, and then all of a sudden I heard this crying, and my appetite just sorta slunk away ’cause it was the same crying that set Mama off before, only this time I could actually see the baby that was causing all the fuss, and that made me pretty uncomfortable. She got rosy cheeks and a head of thick hair, and she was just wailing away. In come Mama and told me, “Woong, you hafta share that with your baby sister,” so I explained that I don’t got no baby sister and that besides, I’m a growing boy so I need it more than a sissy cry-baby does anyway. And Mama went to reach for the spanking spoon, but before she could get to me, the baby grabbed my plate, and all that food fell to the floor. I was gearing up to whine about it to Mama, but that fat baby got on her hands and knees and started gobbling it up so noisy she sounded like a pig, and that’s when I looked down and realized she really was a pig, not a little girl at all, and so I tried to kinda kick her away except she bit my leg and wouldn’t let go no matter how hard I worked to shake her off. So I waked up from my dream screaming and thrashing my leg, still hungry by the way, and Min-Jung sorta reached over and punched me in the back to see if that’d get me to stop, except it didn’t, so Mama had to come over and shake me. I’m a tough kid, but if you’d had a dream like that when you was hungry and a little baby was trying to steal your food and then all of a sudden-like it turned into a pig and bit your leg so hard, you’d be hollering too. So it took Mama a while to figure out what my dream was about, but when she heard me say the baby hurt me, she sorta plunked into her chair and started wobbling back and forth like the old mudang done, which got me worried that maybe Mama’d start shrieking too, and my ears weren’t ready for that, not after a nightmare like I’d just waked up from.
Papa waked up all serious-like, and Mama kept saying things like, “See, I told you we were being haunted,” and, “We should have paid that old mudang the extra money for those amulets.” And if I had my guess, I figure Mama started in on cursing old Mrs. Nosy again too, but by that point Min-Jung musta felt sorry for whaling on me, ’cause she let me snuggle up with her for the rest of the night. Pretty soon I was back to sleep, but there weren’t no more pigs in my dreams or stuff and nonsense like that.
Well, the next day Min-Jung headed to school, and Papa was out fishing like always, and Mama was getting all dressed up like she was about to go out someplace. So I thought maybe we was gonna take a walk to look for some roots to have with our fish for dinner, except Mama told me I better behave ’cause Grandmother was on the way, and she was gonna be watching me for the afternoon. Usually, it was a treat to have Grandmother come on over. She was so old, I could run away from her easy as I could whistle except that I didn’t hafta because she didn’t never once took down the spanking spoon. Not once, long as I knowed her. She was kinda quiet-like. Preferred to sit and tell stories, tell me what things were like before the Peninsula War and boring stuff and nonsense like that, but she smelt ok and usually brung me candy, so I figured it weren’t too bad a deal when she come around. Except I didn’t want Mama to know that, or she mighta decided to stop letting Grandmother visit at all, so I had to keep up and make her think I didn’t like it. Anyway, when I was done throwing a fit and Mama had finished her work and put the spanking spoon away, Grandmother was already there, and I was too busy guessing if she’d brung me any candy to think to ask where Mama was going.
“Well, little man, where’s Mr. Mittens?” Grandmother asked after Mama left, so I went and got the little rag doll Grandmother made for me for my hundredth day celebration, and we played with him a little while. You know, ’course I’m way too big for baby toys like that now, but still I sometimes miss Mr. Mittens. Only if you tell Chuckie Mansfield I said so, I’ll pretend it’s a lie even if it means I gotta go to the principal’s.
So after we got tired of looking at Mr. Mittens, Grandmother said, “Got any stories for me?” She always asked that even though we both knowed that she was the one to tell the stories and I was the one to listen, but I guess she was just always polite and checking with me first. Sometimes I wondered where she expected me to hear any stories since it’s not like we sat around home talking fairytales or that sorta stuff and nonsense all day long. But she still asked anyway, and this time I surprised both of us because I said yeah, I had a kinda interesting story, and then I felt so shy-like I had to play a few rounds of hide-from-Grandmother before she could coax it out of me, which she did with a small handful of nuts. It weren’t candy like she used to bring, but that’s the funny thing about famines like ours, I figure. When you’re that hungry, something boring like nuts can feel even specialer than a whole bowl of candy when you’re already full.
So anyway, Grandmother asked what story I got to tell, and I started to talk to her about everything that’d been going on, what with the baby cries and the old mudang witch and my dream last night. ’Course I didn’t tell her about eating the food myself, but even if she had guessed that part, I knowed Grandmother woulda understood. What else is a growing boy supposed to do when there’s not enough food around and Mama’s wasting most of it on a dead ghost who couldn’t really eat it all up anyway?
Grandmother didn’t say much, just sorta listened and nodded, and when I was done I thought she would take her turn and tell me a story, something about frogs or princes or knights or s
tuff and nonsense like that, ’cause remember I was littler then, only don’t tell Chuckie Mansfield I used to like them baby stories or he’ll clobber me at lunchtime. He will, too. Don’t tell me he won’t. Anyway, Grandmother didn’t have a story for me that day. Instead, she sat there kinda stroking my hair and said, “Woong?” And then she said it again, so I thought maybe I was in trouble ’cause why else would she use my real name like that twice in a row?
I said, “Yeah, Grandmother?”
“I want you to know something about your mother.” And my whole body perked up, and I was wondering if maybe she was gonna explain why Mama was so sad and grumpy and mean-hearted all at once and why I still felt sorry for her even when she was whaling on me, but instead Grandmother said, “She loves you very much. Best way she knows how.” And I guess, Teacher, maybe it’s sorta like when I was learning English, and Chuckie Mansfield said I couldn’t talk any better than a baby, but you said I was doing the best I could with what I had or some stuff and nonsense like that. So maybe that’s what Grandmother was trying to say, except in the old days I didn’t even know there was a language called English or that one day I’d hafta learn it, and so her words didn’t seem to help none, ’cause what good is it to know your mama loves you if you can’t stop her from getting down the spanking spoon whenever she gets mad?
Grandmother was quiet for a little while, and I thought maybe from her breathing she mighta fallen asleep. On a normal day, I wouldn’t have minded too much because then I could run outside and play a little with nobody to get on my back, only this time I didn’t wanna. So I kinda nestled up against her, and we sat quiet-like. I don’t think either of us fell asleep, ’least I didn’t, and whenever I think about Grandmother now, I remember that afternoon together. Just quiet and still. Didn’t need to say nothing ’cause that woulda spoiled the mood. ’Least it felt that way. Sometimes I wonder if it woulda been different if she knowed about what was gonna happen. ’Course that day, sitting next to Grandmother, neither of us expected nothing, so we sat, enjoying the togetherness of it all, and it was so nice and peaceful-like that I didn’t even feel sad when Mama got home and I realized Grandmother forgot to tell me any stories before she left.
Anyway, first thing Mama wanted to know after Grandmother went was how much trouble I got in, but she didn’t even get down the spanking spoon before she started up her cooking. I never knowed where she got all that food, what with it being so scarce in those days, but there was pork and chicken and beans and cabbage, and she made noodles and pancakes and sauces that boiled on the stove ’til it near about drove me mad. “How long ’til dinner, Mama?” I asked, but she didn’t say nothing, just shushed me and told me to run and be good and not to bother her no more. When Min-Jung got home from school, Mama put her right to work, and the two of them squabbled over the stove so much I decided maybe it would be best to go play outside, especially since the kitchen smells were so tempting it near about made me faint away with dizziness.
So I was playing outside with Mr. Mittens and a bug I found when Papa reached home. His eyes was all serious-like, and I wasn’t sure if that was because of the fishing or the ghost baby or the famine or Mama and her bad moods or whatnot. But I remember him looking sorta tired and old, so I showed him my pet bug and did a few somersaults until he cracked a smile, and then we went in the house together.
I was thinking that maybe with all the cooking it was some holiday I’d forgotten about, the Dear Leader’s birthday or stuff and nonsense like that, but Papa looked at the mess in the kitchen, and I knowed right away he weren’t happy about it. ’Course he wouldn’t say nothing, not to Mama, not with her being so grumpy-like lately, but I knowed he was sad just the same, so I decided it might cheer him up if Mr. Mittens ran up his arm like a squirrel, but he hardly acted like he noticed.
“I went back to see the mudang,” Mama told him, and my heart sunk a little deeper into my empty stomach area ’cause of course that meant she was cooking for the ghost baby and not for us. Part of me had been hoping all that food was for me as some sorta surprise, like Mama and Papa had been pretending about the famine the whole time, and once they decided I’d been patient enough they was gonna let me in on the secret.
“She says Woong’s dream was a bad omen. It means the baby’s come back, only this time it’s gonna be harder to get her to leave. She says if we don’t make a big enough feast, the baby might start to do us harm, and once that starts, even the mudang says she doesn’t know if we’ll ever get things back under control.”
Well, I wasn’t even in school yet, but I knowed what a problem that would be. Once there was a family in the neighborhood bothered by a demon, except theirs weren’t a baby, ’least not so far as I ever heard. But the family, they tried everything and couldn’t get rid of it, so eventually they had to move, except they weren’t smart enough to leave the house messy, so when they were cleaning it up real good before they left, the demon musta figured out their plans and followed them on to their new place.
Anyway, I could tell she was serious, so I tried real hard not to bug Mama while she cooked. She and Min-Jung worked into the evening, and Mama even made me go over to pinch-faced Mrs. Nosy and ask to trade her some noodles for more ginger and oil, and Mama was so busy cooking for this little ghost baby of hers she just sorta forgot those of us who were still alive and needing something to eat too. That’s why I went to bed even hungrier than usual. I was so tired I musta slept right through Min-Jung coming in beside me, because when I waked up in the middle of the night, she was drooling next to me with her arm half over me like she worried I might be a little cold. Oh, I wasn’t never supposed to mention the drooling part, by the way, so you can forget about that.
Anyway, I slipped out of bed without waking nobody up, and I went to the place where Mama usually kept the food for the baby, only this time it weren’t there. So I checked in with my nose and followed the smell, and it was on the front porch all spread out in dishes, maybe so the ghost could eat it on its way while it left home or something. Well, when you think of how hungry I’d been those days, me being a growing boy and needing more food than the rest but hardly ever getting more than plain old fish, it don’t sound strange that I set right to work on the food. I was thinking to myself it’s a good thing I waked up so Mama won’t find it all still there in the morning and worry more. Besides, what would a ghost need with food, you know? And it was a girl baby, too, from what everyone said, not a growing boy like me.
Well, I was setting into some noodles, and all of a sudden this hard, old claw reached out and grabbed me by the arm and yanked me close, and I was looking at the old mudang. She was growling in my face and her eyes were kinda glowing red and angry, and her breath was stinky, and she said, “What’re you doing?” And it came out like a hiss that still gives me goose pimples on my neck when I write about it, even with me knowing how far away she must be, and that’s only if she’s still alive. Well, I was scared, and I was hungry too, and it looked like I wouldn’t be getting no more food, so I started to cry a little, only don’t tell Chuckie Mansfield so. I told the witch, “I just wanna make Mama happy,” and I hoped that she believed me ’cause it’s awfully nicer to have someone think you’re trying to do your mama a favor than to think you’re being greedy and selfish.
So the mudang kept her fingers pinched on my arm and kinda gave me a mean shake, and she was still breathing right in my face with that smelly sweet breath of hers, and she said, “You know that’s devil’s food, don’t you?” And I hadn’t met Pastor yet of course, but I knowed enough about devils I didn’t want no part in them or their food, but my stomach was still feeling so empty I mighta reached out and gobbled down a few more chunks of pork and noodles if she hadn’t started chanting something in this deep gravelly voice. It didn’t even sound like a woman, but it certainly weren’t no man’s voice neither, and then she started rocking back and forth, and I figured it was time for me to run back to bed. Except I was so scared of her and her devil’s
food and her strange mutterings that I worried if I moved a wink she might turn me in to a toad and feed me to whatever baby demon’d been haunting the house, and what kinda end would that be for a growing boy like me?
So she was working up a sweat, and I was too scared to cry any more, but that didn’t mean my body weren’t shaking like one of them earthquakes we talked about last week in science, and I wondered if I could throw up the food and get the devil out of me that way, and then she let out this shriek, except it weren’t coming from her mouth like you’d expect. It was coming kinda from the top of her nose behind her eyes, and it was squealier than any sound you’ve heard a human make, sorta like what you’d think of if a person got himself an army of angry mosquitoes and made them all buzz into a microphone at the same time, and then he put the speaker right up to your ear. Well, once she started going on like that, I sprung up and probably coulda run three miles without looking back and woulda done it so fast Chuckie Mansfield wouldn’t tease me no more about being slow in PE. Except the witch woman still had her fingernails digging into my skin, and she grabbed me and made me look into her eyes, except they weren’t hardly eyes no more, just sorta dark holes, and she said in that voice that wasn’t really a voice but coming from under her nose somewhere, “Shame and misfortune cling to you. Misery haunts your path. You will never escape it.”
So my ears were ringing, and I run in the house and tried to bury myself under Min-Jung, and I didn’t even mind when she waked up and pulled my hair ’cause ’least it was my sister and not some crazy witch hurting me this time, and I sorta shivered there ’til Min-Jung let out a little huff and turned to cuddle me proper-like, and then I fell asleep.