I looked up from the letter, tears streaming from my eyes. I didn't care about some stupid letter and dolls: I wanted my grandma back! After all when I had first read that letter I was too young to fully understand what was actually happening.

I still remember it clearly: shoving the dolls back into the box and sneaking out of the house. That night there had been a terrible storm: the waves were threatening the cliff to collapse from underneath our clothesline. My little feet edged to rim of the cliff, my legs shaking. I looked down and gulped: the ocean had completely covered the little beach that I played on, the rough swirls crashing against the side of the cliff. I gave one more look at the box and threw it into the ocean: watching as it tossed and turned in the current until I could see it no more.  

Rid of those dolls I felt slightly happier. But that didn't last long. Papa had to go out to sea on urgent business: since the storm fishermen were finding it hard to catch anything and keep up with the constant demand. This meant that he was away for a lot longer then he used to be: trying to keep food on our table.

Something had changed in Mama too: she seemed thinner and worn. When I asked her if she was ok, she would smile back and tell me that she was alright. Even for an oblivious child to the world like me: I could tell she wasn't alright. I wanted Papa to see how Mama was, maybe he could help her? But I couldn't: Papa still hadn't come back from his last trip to sea. As every day pasted, the more the worry on Mama's face became visible.    

Something was wrong. I knew as soon as I awoke. I ran to the door, but stopped in my tracks: 'I'm sorry ma'am, but I brought some bad news…'

She gasped. 'No-no-no, my husband! Please tell me that he is alive!!'

He shook his head, 'We found was left of his boat yesterday morning. We searched the area, but there were no signs of life. One of the search party, found his body…'

I heard the sobs of a strangled cry evacuate from my Mama's lips.  

That's what really broke my mother: she couldn't handle it any longer. The happy mother that I once knew had left, and a cold empty shell remained. I had become a burden to her: a reminder of my father. She didn't treat me with love anymore: I'd become someone else's child that had been put into her care. She'd never had a child; she had become a childless widow.

'Hurry and pack!' She hissed at me. I ran back to my room to do what she had told me. It'd had only been a month since Papa's death and she had turned into a monster in that time. After all, I was no daughter of hers.

We were moving. Moving to the city, moving to Seoul. I chucked everything I owned into my suitcase. I went to check under my bed and froze: a box lay under the bed, its 12 golden carvings reflected from the streams of light that hit it. No. I had chucked that into the ocean. The day after grandma had died.     

That lady, (my Mother) was busily packing and didn't notice me sneak outside with a strange wooden box in my hands. I grabbed the shovel from the shed and dug a hole deep enough for the box. I looked at the box and said, 'Grandma's letter said that you would protect me and my family. You lied, you broke your promise.' With that I buried the box, never expecting to see it again. 

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sorry for the long wait, been busy. comment and enjoy