Wednesday 23 March 2016

#MidWeekTease - Chinese Calligraphy

Welcome teasers and teasees! I wasn't sure what to share this week, so I've opted for a scene from a work I shelved. I can't quite see how to revive the story, but this scene was just too good not to recall and use somewhere. I hope you agree.

“He’s seen me…naked. No one has seen me naked, not since I was a child.” She covered her face as the tears fell.
“No one?” Sunny asked. “Haven’t you had boyfriends?”
Sharon sucked breath through her teeth and shook her head. “I’ve gone on a few dates, but my parents didn’t approve of any of them, or the time away from my studies. I’ve only been kissed a few times.” She rolled her head to look at Sunny.
The punk girl sat on the bed next to her and hugged her. “I’m so sorry, Sharon. This shouldn’t be happening.”
“What if he has recordings? Pictures?” Her tears came more quickly, and Sunny’s shirt collected them when the girl pulled Sharon closer.
“You know what you should do?” Sunny asked.
Sharon snuffled and shook her head.
Sunny stroked her hair and then took her chin, pulling her up. “You should do something just for you. Work on a new calligraphy.” She gestured to the walls where Sharon’s work hung.
Sharon sat up, looking at each one. She started with the one she was most proud of, Music. The musical symbols and Chinese blended into one another, mixing to make something that sung to her soul. The next was her Grandmother’s Spring. To that Sharon had added Winter and Autumn. Finally Sifu Chang’s Dragon. The last, the one Sunny liked best, wasn’t actually Chinese, rather Sakura was written in Japanese Kanji, but fit well with all the others.
She didn’t have her supplies here to start on a new painting, but she did have a small brush and ink stone. With a large piece of paper from her sketchbook, she set to work.
The lines that were usually light and flowing were thick and dark, simplified. She almost never used simplified, but Songju, Fear, was bleeding too heavily for all the separate strokes. Her tears fell on the paper, smudging the lines even further.
Ignoring the ink still wet on the paper, she leaned her head onto the desk and wept, Fear writing itself on her face and arms.