So they divided it up.
Little Goldie, a bunch of belongings, stayed with her mother. She, Goldie's mother, a bunch of belongings, went with her father. The courtyard was in turmoil. The house was in chaos. Everything was divided, item by item. The box bed with the two intertwined hearts couldn't be divided; it was cut in half to spite them. The sisters clung to each other, refusing to be separated, so their father lifted one out to the car, and their mother carried the other into the house, ignoring their cries and wails.
That terrible division haunted him until the division by two lesson in class. He refused to do it, standing there motionless. The teacher scolded him: "You're so good at addition, subtraction, and multiplication, why did division suddenly pop up in your head?" He remained silent. The teacher didn't know how much he hated division by two! Dividing by two splits everything in half.
The new place was dreary. The potted plants and orchids withered. The belongings gathered dust. She went mad. Mother Goldie, separated from her child, went into a frenzy, howling mournfully. Her father had to chain her up.
What a dreary day. Bi is all alone without Bo. Bo is also alone without Bi, and doesn't feel like eating. Their meal consists of bread and boxed meals because Mom is lying around and Dad is out drinking.
The two sisters eagerly awaited Sunday, the day their parents allowed them to see each other. This week at their father's house. Next week at their mother's house.
Yesterday was our first meeting. Bo came, bringing Um along. Bi was surprised to see Um clutching the clay Monkey King tightly. The clay figurine was faded and cracked, but its legs were still bent as if about to leap into the clouds. In its hand was still the ever-changing iron staff.
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Um was a bald, chocolate-colored, naked doll with one toe gnawed off by a rat. It looked dirty and ugly, but very funny. Its slanted eyes had a wild and mysterious look. Once, my mother blurted out, "This little thing knows how to glance!" "And it even changes places by itself. If you put it next to Cinderella, you look again and it's next to Bờm," she added.
Little Bo named herself Úmbala, but she preferred to be called Úm. Úm didn't come from the toy store, but from the junk dealer. She sat in a tattered basket, surrounded by piles of dirty bottles and jars, haughtily acting like a queen: "Marry me! In exchange for a stack of old newspapers," she said with her eyes.
After bathing, Um joined the other toys in the cupboard. Her wild, mysterious, and haughty demeanor overshadowed even the delicate beauty of Cinderella and the elegance of Barbie. A dress was put on her, only to be found tossed in the corner the next morning. Her eyes seemed to say, "I'm not going to grow up. Why bother with clothes?"
The toy cupboard is a world of memories. The toys, in all shapes and sizes, come from everywhere. There's the cute little boy with the patched hair named Bờm that my mother bought at the foot of Marble Mountains. The set of 12 glass horses in soaring poses was bought at a bookstore in Saigon. The piggy bank with wings my father bought from a Vietnamese shop in America. The owner said Vietnamese pigs also miss their homeland, so he attached wings to it so it could fly over the sea. Last week, a man selling clay figurines appeared at the school gate. The students crowded around, captivated by his skillful hands shaping and molding them, instantly creating a vibrant, colorful figurine perched on a stick. Seeing how beautiful it was, I bought a Monkey King figurine. My mother said that because the clay figurines are made of dough, their lifespan is short; you throw them away when you get bored.
Lately, my parents have been arguing a lot. The bed feels so empty when they lie on opposite sides. My sister and I are no longer taken out to play or given new toys. The toys in the cupboard are also rustling and making noise at night. They huddle together as if vaguely anticipating a separation.
The parting finally came. Mother took the bag, pursed her lips, and threw it away. One went with Bi, the other stayed with Bo. The toys cried and wailed as they said goodbye, but only she could hear them.
***
Waking up in the night, he reached for his pillow. Um wasn't there anymore.
"Bờm! Where are you?" - it heard a voice calling from the darkness.
"In the bag. At the bottom of the cupboard," a weak voice replied.
Um opened the cupboard and turned the bag upside down. Toys spilled out. Many fainted. Um breathed on them, and they came back to life like magpies. The porcelain elephant waved its trunk. The glass horse stomped its feet and neighed. Bom hugged Um affectionately. Doctor Long Nose adjusted his glasses. Cinderella doll blinked her eyes. The piggy bank flapped its aching wings…
"Let's go home, Um!" - the toys clamored.
"But how?" the stuffed dog whimpered.
"Fly!" - Um replied.
"Flying? Only piggy banks and glass horses have wings."
"Wake up, Bí, and trim the wings! Bí is very good at trimming them by hand."
The darkness was torn apart by whispers and rustling sounds. Um's bald head gleamed. Mother Gold, freed from her chains, recognized her toys, wagging her tails in delight. They used to live in the same house.
The graceful Cinderella spread her moon-white dress, adorned with a silver halo of moonlight, for the pumpkin to sit and trim its wings.
One by one, Doctor Long Nose attached wings to the toys. They floated up to the sound of Bờm's cheerful singing: "Fly up! Let's fly up! Our hearts have grown wings..."
The mother goldfish couldn't have its wings attached even though Doctor Long Nose used up all the glue.
"Woof... woof... My legs are no less powerful than my wings! I can stride very fast to get back to my little dog, Vàng."
"And what about the main character?" - Princess Cinderella asked her father.
With his palm facing upwards, the Monkey King leaped down and pulled the iron staff out from behind his ear.
The kitchen door swung open. Half a bed, sawn in two, wobbled in and then collapsed.
"Stand up! You'll have four legs soon," the shaman said.
Half of the bed stood precariously on its remaining two legs. The elephant approached the new bed, where the "main character" lay curled up, his face wrinkled and contorted in loneliness. Its trunk reached out, gently lifting the battered man onto the split half of the bed, so lightly that he continued to snore.
The pumpkin was also lifted up and placed down next to its father. Its eyes widened and its mouth gaped open.
"Let's go!" - the bald, chocolate-skinned queen commanded.
The Monkey King leaped onto a cloud, brandishing his iron staff. Half of the heavy bed floated up like a magical carpet.
The flying toys followed, across the courtyard, and even caught a few wilting orchid plants.
The mother dog chased after her, galloping like an arrow across the road.
They flew silently, wings touching, lifted by the wind. The sky was dense with stars. The stars twinkled and smiled, their light shimmering with an ethereal glow.
"Wow, that's so beautiful!" - Bom asked Um.
"That's a star - a flower of the sky."
"What's it like down there?" - Cinderella pointed down at the city brightly lit with lights. Her silver-embellished dress resembled fluffy clouds swirling around her paper wings.
"That is the light - the star of the earth."
Thanks to being able to fly, both Bí and the toys realized how vast and beautiful the universe is! And wings? - If they want to fly, they'll get wings.
***
They landed at the old airfield at midnight.
My mother's gold flew on longing, arriving first, anxiously scratching at the door.
Sun Wukong raised his iron staff. The door opened. His hands trembled, but he still had enough power to make the two pieces of the bed, which had been torn in half, find their way back together as before. A family was fast asleep on it.
"Let's go to sleep too! The bed knows what to do," Um commanded.
The toys were gradually put away in the cupboard. Having stayed up for several nights, their eyes were half-closed. They nestled on top of each other, fast asleep.
Mom woke up first, her foot bumping into Dad's.
"What's so precious about it that you have to do this every night!" - my mother grumbled, closing her eyes.
Dad opened his eyes. His hand touched something soft and warm.
"What's so precious about it that I dream about it every night?" - Dad muttered, then sat up.
The half of the bed on Dad's side winked at the half of the bed on Mom's side.
"Let's dance!"
"YES".
The waltz began. It spun so wildly that the two "hates" kept bumping into each other.
The dance became more and more intense. The bed spun so wildly that Mom got dizzy and had to close her eyes and hug the person next to her. The person next to her opened their arms and hugged all three of them. Bi and Bo loved it and giggled.
***
"Wake up! Wake up and go to school!" - Dad shook Bi.
Bí opened her eyes, looked around, and then burst into tears.
"Who told you to wake me up, Dad? I was dreaming that the whole family was lying on the old bed..."
"How strange!" my father muttered. "I had a dream too... about the bed spinning around!"
"The bed spins, doesn't it, Dad?"
"But that's just a dream. Forget it! Get up and go to school!" my father yelled.
"Where's Um?" - Bi looked to the side, where Um had lain yesterday, but Um wasn't there.
Bo was also crying when he was woken up from his dream.
"Will you shut up or you'll get a beating? Oh my God, why am I so miserable? No peace during the day because of the child, no peace at night because of the bed..." - my mother grumbled.
"The bed spins, doesn't it, Mom?"
"Is it haunted? It's not turning around now!..." - my mother cried.
Bí called Bo and whispered:
"Remember to bring the magic potion this Sunday! And the powdered Monkey King too!"
"He's almost completely worn out. I'm thinking of throwing him away..."
"Do not!".
***
The sun peeked through the crack in the door, and the dream didn't end.
The box bed, with its two intertwined hearts, was like a large, fluffy cradle rocking four people to sleep. Bi rested on Bo's lap. Dad's arm was around Mom's.
On the living room rug, Mother Goldie is licking her baby Goldie.
Inside the cupboard, the toys lay in various positions: standing, sitting, and lying down. Poor Monkey King! He smelled sour and his skin was cracked. The green and red patches were crumbling. But he had managed to complete his task before the short life of a clay figurine came to an end.
The bald, naked, chocolate-colored doll wasn't asleep. Its slanted eyes, with their mysterious, wild gaze, stared wide at everything familiar returning to its old order, muttering, "Don't underestimate us toys!"
Short stories by Que Huong
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Source: https://thanhnien.vn/um-truyen-ngan-cua-que-huong-18527223.htm
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