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The Vanishing Village
My name is Tart Mean, and this, is my own story……
The sun was burning, the cloud was absent.
I was walking down from the car, feeling the wind touching me softly, and smelling the aroma of grass. That was something I had never felt in cities. This, is a countryside located in the mountains, where thousands of special local houses are spread. Trees grew all over the mountains while flowers, those in red, yellow and many other colors, blossomed everywhere. I came here as a traveler, who only wanted to escape from the urban crowd and concretes and enjoyed the holiday in such a quiet and spacious village.
I was observing the village as I walked on those interlaced streets between simple and unsophisticated local buildings. The village was huge, undeveloped, with a dense network of rivers, people built their houses and established markets next to the river. Strolling along the riverside, some old people were chatting loudly and playing chess, children were chasing each other in great joy, and adults were busy doing their own work. Some of them stopped and looked at me weirdly as I walked by them, and a bit rage in their eyes, which let me inferred that it was rare to have a stranger here; everything was not secularized. For people here, it seemed that they don’t want to be disturbed by outsiders.
The sky turned dark dramatically because of some suddenly appeared dark clouds. It started to rain with no signs, so I had to look for a villager’s house to avoid getting wet. But no eaves were available. At this moment, a girl invited me to their house when I passed by, just like a wisp of fortune in helplessness. She was a pretty girl who introduced herself as ‘Twinky’. I looked into her eyes which were shining brightly like twinkling stars as she passed me a towel, smiling. Through her smile and eyes I could see that scarce purity being no alienated to me at all.
Rain kept falling heavily outside. I had to cancel my appointment for the hotel in the city that I supposed to stay for the night, and stay in the villager’s house the whole night because of the unpleasant weather. Welcoming me as an outsider, they cooked me local food as dinner and offered me a room.
The rain had never stopped throughout the night but its sound was no longer bothering. Instead, it was comforting and peaceful. The next morning when I was leaving, I asked Twinky that how much I should pay for the staying.
‘It’s totally free,’ answered the girl, breezily, ‘we regard strangers as gifts and we would give a hand whenever they need help in the village.’
I thanked Twinky for her family’s reception and left the village after I promised another visit in the future. I could tell by her eyes that she was delighted after hearing that.
Years passed without being glanced. Yet I could not help thinking about the warmth that the girl’s family once gave me. Finally, I came to the village as promised.
I was so astonished by what I saw when I stepped into the village once again: those narrow paths have become wide roads; electric power carts that filled with tourists rushed by; shops that sell local products were scrambling to introduce their merchandises when I was once again walking on the road.
I tried to look for the girl’s home through memory and hankered for that she wouldn’t have changed at all. Suddenly, a girl came across in my eyes. Her eyes were shining brightly like stars and she was wearing a pink local dress, smiling.
Expecting to hear that pure voice once again, my heart bumped excitedly and walk over to her immediately.
She looked at me with confusion. Then she asked if there was anything she could do to help me.
I kept my mouth closed and looked at her in silent.
She then spoke again, with a big smile on her face constantly, ‘come and have a taste of our traditional food. They are popular among visitors and only cost……” My eyes followed her finger as she pointed at the food she once offered me.
I refused her politely and smiled pleasantly. After my refusal, as I can see, her face turned indignant and she ignored me without asking the reason. She then smiled again as another client stepped into the shop.
And her eyes, as I looked back on her, were still pure.
She, Twinky herself, together with her pureness was like twinkle little stars, flashed and flashed. Contrasting to the night, the stars twinkle light as if the hope are spread on thick ink. But eventually they disappeared, in nihility.
I had never been back to the village ever again.
The year after that, I went to another village for vacation, and the village is named---- Meteor.