"The Flowers of the Moon" (Short Story, Part 4/4)

Start at the beginning of this short story here:
https://steemit.com/writing/@whymonkey/the-flowers-of-the-moon-short-story-part-1-4

Part 2:
https://steemit.com/artzone/@whymonkey/the-flowers-of-the-moon-short-story-part-2-4

Part 3:
https://steemit.com/artzone/@whymonkey/the-flowers-of-the-moon-short-story-part-3-4

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Chan came walking among the crimson-gold tidal pools that gathered in the wet sand, beneath dusk-red skies and, when he spoke, all other voices were silenced.

"It is true the nature of the girl is mysterious and unknown to us but, fool not yourselves, she is much as part of this village as any person here. There is no telling what will happen if, indeed, we are left with no other choice but to gamble her life for the sake of us all… And yet, witnessing all this petty fussing and fighting, I wonder if the trial we’ve endured for this village and its people is not already lost. For tonight, let us each go to our homes and reflect on this."

Saying this he walked back, the silent clamor of his words carried by the breeze and echoing through the fiery skies. Some people still lingered, forlorn they were, but most went about their lives.

Then night fell, troubling and unpleasant.

Lok knew fully well Pui’s recklessness when it came to self-sacrifice and under the canopy of stars he implored to her, "Don’t do it, Pui, please don't do it or you'll die!"

"How else are we supposed to feed our families, save this village?", she asked in a collected tone that evinced a wisdom beyond her years, "There is no telling what might happen, but I believe this is something I must do. Like Chan Sifu said, let's think about it and tomorrow we'll talk..."

"But Pui... I can't bare the thought of living without you", tears streamed down his face, salted like the ocean.

She studied his face in silence, as if she was trying to memorize every trace, every detail, then smiled as to mirror his affection and, without another word, turned her back and went home to her parents.

The peaceful stars came out and the azure sea stretched to eternity, but nothing could appease the anxiety burning Lok from the inside. She will be sick, she could die - the sound of these thoughts reverberated in his head like thunder. The island without Pui, a WORLD without Pui, he couldn't let that happen, he WOULDN’T let that happen, come what may!
He waited until the village was sound asleep and under the cover of the night, his steps concealed by the chirping of the crickets, went to the beach and for hours he dragged and pulled every wooden skiff from every fisherman in the village and piled them into one huge pyre. Then without hesitation, he gathered kindling and set the pyre alight. The flames rose quickly and soon the whole stack was afire.

Let's see how good is their fishing net when they have no boats to carry it.

He remained as the sole spectator to his work. The flames escaped into the night sky and the halo of light that shattered the night was cast on his sunburnt face that did not show the slightest shadow of regret.

I would set afire every boat of the world, if that would mean her unscathed.

Suddenly there was a loud whistling noise and the sound of wood cracking. The piled up skiffs lost balance and tumbled down right on the place where he was standing. Instinctively he took to his knees and covered himself. Either luck or misfortune made the skiff drop on him inverted so it didn't knock him out, but trapped him between the burning wood and the cold sand. The sudden heat and the smoke sent a gush of panic to his brain. He tried to overturn the boat by pulling at one of the sides, but the wood was so hot that it burned his fingers and made his skin blister. With an overwhelming sense of urgency he tried to upheave the hull by thrusting his shoulders against the hull, but other skiffs must have been piled over it because the weight was too much. The burns on his back bit savagely through his flesh, soon the smoke and the lack of oxygen drained him of his strength and of his will.

His last thought was of two eyes, green like the sea, framed by silvery long hair, the color of moonbeams.

Eventually the enormous fulgor from the fire woke up the villagers from the nearest houses and soon all the village had gathered on the beach, trying to put the fire out with buckets of water, but the flames produced a wall of fury and without any other choice, they witnessed the fire devouring away at their livelihood.

When Pui and her family joined the others, the net still wrapped around her head like a white crown reflecting the red flames, she quickly guessed what happened and looked for Lok everywhere, but was unable to find him. She assumed he could only have fled to the isolation of the forest, so without hesitation, stole the pocketknife from her father's pocket and, under the cover of the dark, shaved her hair at skin length, sneaking away to the forest. As she ran, she felt her strength starting to wane out, but she kept going towards the mountains, braving the dark as she called out Lok's name.

The next morning that beach was a graveyard. Charred frames of boats and embers. Bones and ashes. The magical net was later found not far from that place and was finally cast to the sea upon a makeshift bamboo raft and, indeed, came bursting with fish. The village had been saved, but the price had been tremendous.

With the passage of time the black ashes of the fire were scattered by the wind and the tide and darkened the sand from the tree line to the ocean. As the generations passed the story was forgotten but the name of the beach remained - the Beach of the Black Sand.

And in the forest there came to be a lagoon formed from the tears that Pui cried every day she spent alone and weary in that forest, waiting for Lok to come. Tears the same color of her green eyes.

No... not really green.

Turquoise.

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Note from the Author:

First of all, thank you for reading. Although sad, I hope you enjoyed the tale of Pui and Lok, which has shaped the very nature of the Island of Coloane, one of three islands here in Macau. Like the previous short-story this one was also written a few years ago to be submitted to a local contest. Editing it for Steemit allowed me to rewrite a few parts here and there and, I hope, improve it. The story obviously falls into the fiction category (or does it?!), nevertheless the places are real, there is really a fishing village in the Island of Coloane, there is a beach called the Beach of the Black Sand (Hac Sa Beach) and there is really a green lagoon that only those who have trailed the paths of the forest have seen.

All of the photos used in the four parts that make this story are taken from Pixabay under the CC0 Commons License, but here is an actual photo taken by us of the said lagoon.

It's a lot more impressive in real life, but it really is an intense shade of green that contrasts with the red-brown earth and you can spot the occasional turtle swimming languidly across its waters.

Thank you for reading!