Dream of the ringing of bells

The little girl tiptoed through the puddles of rainwater. The night was deep and dark. The moonlight shone coldly on the trees along the roadside, a few drops of water fell on her hair, and she quickened her pace. Carefully clutching the bag containing the thermos of porridge to her chest, she feared that if she slipped, the bag would fall, spilling all the porridge, meaning her father would go hungry tonight. The street was deserted, people hurried past, all rushing home to be ready for Christmas.

The alley leading to Dad's attic is here! The little girl had walked there so many times that she knew every nook and cranny by heart. The door was only slightly ajar. She saw a sliver of light peeking through the gap. Dad was still awake. She knocked, and before long, she heard the sound of slippers shuffling out from inside. The door swung open. Dad appeared and witnessed the little girl's hesitant, utterly dejected expression.

"Dạ Cầm, why are you here at this hour?" - while hurriedly wiping her younger sister's hair with a towel, the father said rather sternly, "I told you not to go out at night, it's dangerous! Don't you remember?"

She stood still, her eyes welling up with tears. This afternoon, after school, she happened to meet Ms. Tam, her father's colleague, at the school gate. Ms. Tam told her that her father had been sick for a week and had to take time off work. On her way home from school, she hurried to the market to buy some beef. The little girl always kept a little money her father gave her in her schoolbag. Her grandmother saw her busily cooking porridge for her father in the kitchen and turned away, stifling a sigh.

"Stop crying, Dad wasn't scolding you!" - Dad's voice was also sad.

Just waiting for that moment, the little girl quickly opened the lunchbox: "Dad, eat!" The fragrant aroma of hot porridge made her father sit down immediately. After only a little while, he clutched his chest and coughed violently. She gently patted his back. Her small hands possessed a miraculous strength. He stopped coughing and ate all the porridge in one go. She whispered, "I'll bring you more porridge tomorrow after school, okay?" "No, the road is long, and it's dangerous for you to go out at dusk. I'll ask Mrs. Tam next door to buy some porridge for me." "But you must remember to eat a lot so you get better quickly." "Yes, I remember."

Looking at her father, tears welled up in her eyes. The little girl sat beside him, whispering about all sorts of things, until the church bells rang loudly, and her father suddenly remembered: "Go home before it gets too late, it's very cold tonight!"

The small figure disappeared down the alley, and Dad still stood watching.

***

She once had a warm and loving family. Her house was at the end of the street. It was a small but cozy house. Her mother was very beautiful. On Christmas Day when she was six, her parents took her for a walk. Passing by a church not far from their house, her father stopped to show her the nativity scene. She watched the crowds of people passing by, their hands clasped in prayer. Her mother said, "They are praying for all good things..." The following year, her mother quietly left, leaving her father only a divorce paper with a hastily signed signature. She sent her to live with her grandparents. Her father was devastated and heartbroken by the unexpected abandonment.

People streamed past. Colorful coats, warm scarves. Suddenly, I felt cold, my thin shoulders shivering in my thin sweater, unable to withstand the freezing winter night. I quickened my pace. Passing the church where my family used to go years ago, I stopped. The crowd was immense; no one noticed me, thin and shivering in my old sweater. More than seven years had passed since that Christmas Eve… After hesitating for a long time, I decided to go inside. The melodious sounds of the organ blended with the gentle singing from the sanctuary. I squeezed in, staring blankly at the children my age singing hymns. In their long white dresses that reached their heels and wings attached to their backs, they looked like angels. As the singing ended, I snapped back to reality and turned away amidst the prayers echoing from the altar. I trudged home, my mother’s words from years ago echoing in my ears, “They are praying for all good things.” The girl hurried back inside, went to the cave, knelt down, and clasped her hands together. She knelt for a long time, enduring the biting cold of the winter wind that seeped into her skin.

That night, the little girl lay awake, gazing out the window at the twinkling stars, silently hoping her prayers would come true. She drifted into a sweet, peaceful dream. In her dream, she saw her family reunited in their old, weathered house, beside the wooden fence covered in vines, and the sparrows still chirping on the roof. The house she had carried in her memories since she was a toddler. Suddenly, a herd of reindeer appeared, bringing her mother back to her. As they left, one reindeer bent down and gave her a bouquet of roses. She sat beside her father, watching the fine snowflakes fall on her mother's hair. Her mother reached out to catch the snowflakes, laughing loudly. She woke up with a start. It was just a dream. Her body suddenly felt hot. She had a fever. Amidst the debilitating coughs, she continued to drift in and out of dreams, a dream without beginning or end, but filled with her mother's image.

The little girl woke up and looked around. Outside, the scent of wolfsbane and the fragrant osmanthus from the old man's yard behind her permeated the alley. She could also smell the scent of trees shedding their leaves, the blossoming of the sấu tree, and the falling petals of lotus flowers… Her grandmother had gone to the market sometime ago, and on the table lay the breakfast she had prepared. The fever from last night still made her head feel throbbing. A clear, cheerful chirping sound came from the treetops, awakening the young leaves after a long sleep. She looked up and saw a bright blue bird tilting its head beside the trellis of crape myrtle trees, which glowed like lampshades.

***

Since realizing the loss of her family home, the girl has become withdrawn. At school, she is alone, not playing with anyone. At home, she stays secluded in the room her grandmother prepared for her in the attic.

On her way home from school, she often turned onto the street behind the train station, where at the end stood an old house, now owned by someone else. For over seven years, she had known the way. As soon as she stepped into the alley, her heart fluttered. The house remained the same, small and melancholic amidst the mist. The garlic vines on the gate were tinged with a fragrant purple. She clung to the sparse fence, tiptoeing to look inside. The house was spacious and elegant, with small sparrows playing in the yard, and overgrown trees obscuring the sunlight. This yard, this porch, which she had so fondly remembered, had now faded with longing. Two years after her mother left, everything in the house remained the same, including the portrait of her mother on the wall. Until the day her father realized all his hopes were in vain, that there would be no answer, he sold the house in bitterness.

It was late afternoon. She trudged back home, her steps heavy as she walked down the old street. Wandering in front of her house, she felt as if she were trembling, bidding farewell to childhood and entering adolescence. There, she was alone and sad in her quiet room, the only sound being the steady ticking of the wall clock.

Tonight, she blended into the crowd on the street, her feet inexplicably drawn to the church. She peeked over the fence, hearing a melody she'd never heard before. Slowly, she stepped through the gate to the grotto. A light rain began to fall, growing heavier. And it was cold. Inside the sanctuary, the singing and music continued to soar…

"Dạ Cầm!" a familiar, deep voice rang out from behind her.

She turned around. Her eyes widened in childlike astonishment and bewilderment. Like an arrow, she rushed towards her father, who stood in the rain. Tears welled up in her eyes, ready to spill over. Sobbing. Resentment. A tear also fell from her father's eye. He wept. His daughter. A lonely child. He had nothing left to give her but to overcome his own pain and pray with her. Pray that one day, not too far away, the members of their small family would be reunited…

Short story: VU NGOC GIAO

Source: https://baocantho.com.vn/giac-mo-dem-chuong-ngan-a196127.html