I write.

기본 수칙.

Professor's comment:

Nikki--I like the mood of this, very uneasy, validly so. There's good suspense, too, and you seem to have found a more colloquial voice*. (*though the language still is uneven in spots, as I point out) The material itself is believable and good. The ending maybe could use more, and there could be more about her life, before all this. Still, that said, the feeling is strangely intriguing here.

“어렸을 때 땅을 쳐다보고 다니는 게 버릇이었어요. 아마 그래서 생긴 주름일 거예요.”

“땅? 왜?”

“하늘보다 땅에 더 신기한 게 많았거든요.”

“신기한 거?”

“네. 그, 왜 저 어렸을 때만 해도 그런 게 되게 많았어요. 땅에 떨어져있는 것들 중에, 작은 톱니바퀴나 나사 같은 거. 그런거 찾아서 모으는 게 취미였어요.”

“톱니바퀴나 나사? 그런걸 왜 모아?”

“… 말해도 안 웃으실꺼예요?”

“안 웃어 안 웃어, 말해봐.”

“어른이 되면 그걸로 로봇을 만들 생각이었어요.”

“뭐,로봇?”

“네. 어른들은 뭐든 아는 것 같았으니까. 지금은 못 만들어도 어른이 되면 만들 수 있을 줄 알았어요. 근데 어른이 됐을 때 재료가 없으면 안되니까… 그때를 위해서 모아둬야지! 하고 생각했었죠.”

“뭐야, 그게! 푸하핫”

“어, 안 웃으신다고 했으면서! 저 이래뵈도 중3때까지 어른이 되면 로봇 만들 수 있을 줄 알았어요!”

“크하, 알았어 알았어. 근데 중3이라니 너도 참 징하다~”

“…적어도 순수했다고 말해줘요.”

“그래서 직접 어른이 돼보니까 어때?”

“글쎄요, 어른이 되도 로봇 만드는 법은 잘 모르겠네요.” 

=====================================================================================

과제는~ 하기 싫고~ 인터넷은~ 안 되고~ 

The night falls on the parking lot. It is dark. It is summertime. The moon is yet to rise up in the sky. The parking lot is empty, with only two or three cars carelessly left on dry asphalt. The last remaining street lamp on the street blinks and disappears into the night. It never lights up again, just like the other dusty street lamps on the lot. Glooming lights still remain around downtown Browns Bay as shops and restaurants prepare for closing. On darker side of the parking lot, whispers of waves fill the air. As you follow the sound of the waves, the cold asphalt under your feet becomes dewy grassland, and soon your steps reach the soft sand of the beach.

In front of you stands a vast dead shore full of chilling winds. Every living thing seems to be absorbed in the dark veil of the sea. Cries of the night insects have gone mute by the screaming wind. Green and red algae have lost their colors and lie along the beach like black bruises. The whisper of the waves now becomes a high-pitched howling, thudding on your eardrums. The wind flies past you, through you, and whirls around you with a remarkable menace. A narrow trench that used to form a clear stream when the sea was softer is now empty and muddy with shadows. The beach that little boys ran around and old couples cruised along during the day has now become a No Man’s Land. The waves bombard you as if you are their last enemy left. Imaginary bullets fly through your ears and you narrow your eyes to cover them from the salty wind. The sea that was so clear and bright like a giant mirror during the day is now swirling dark oil moving like a snake. The beach that little girls laughed while soft sand tickled their feet is now transformed into a huge vacuum space full of noises.

Then, the first bang of a firework pierces the vacuum. With a sharp soaring screech and a large bang, the sea is suddenly full of red and green light. Like a morning alarm, the first bloom of the fire flower rings the existence of the others on the crescent beach, as their faces lit up. The coal dark sea retreats as scattered people fire against the sky. Boom, boom, boom. The sound of the waves becomes numb with each bang of the fireworks. Colors splash on the sky. People hurray each time the colorful flowers bloom on the sky. Their voices are immersed in the sound of the night. Each fire flower touches the cold stars of the sky, and with each firework the distant sea becomes aflame.

The murky curtain of the night has been lifted. The sky is now brighter than under the sun.  The sea is now just another sky embracing the echoes of the fireworks. Each blooming flower in the sky falls into the water and shines with the ever-flowing waves. Red, blue, green, yellow, violet sparkles mix and tangle until the colors fuse into a giant star. The star glimmers on the water, and the sea shines with warm burgundy color. As different fireworks burst in the sky, the sea changes its color like a giant wine glass in sunlight. Boom, boom, boom. Another set of fireworks thunders and a small house on faraway cliff lights up. Soon each house on the cliff ignites its own fireworks, adding to the crescent line of the fire flowers on the sky. 

As more and more fireworks pierce the sky, more people gather around the beach—high school kids, families with dogs, old couples holding hands. Each person holds a bunch of different fireworks. Roman candles, cakes, firecrackers, fountains, rockets, and assorted packets... The no man’s land that was once filled with transparent bullets from the sea is now packed with real fires about to dissolve the night’s emptiness. Red and green peony, cyan blue chrysanthemum and golden spiders embroider the humid November sky from east to west. A little girl riding on her dad’s shoulder holds a long roman candle up in the air. First two shots fire right up above the girl’s head, but only fly half way and disappear with few sparkles. The next three fired disperse with the sound of a dead light-bulb, and the girl starts shouting, “it’s strange, it’s strange!” The father mutters a laugh, holds the girl’s hand and points it towards the sea. The next shot pierces the air with a sharp hawk’s cry and booms in the sky, making a clear green peony. Now the girl shouts “did you see that? Did you see that!” while dangling her legs and bouncing on her dad’s shoulder. As next four shots draw more clear peonies on the sky, spicy smoke slowly fills the air. A few steps away from the father and daughter, a college boy throws a leftover firecracker, and his startled beagle barks at the sparking lights. He laughs and throws a wood stick for the dog to catch.

On the far right corner of the beach, a group of high school students gathers around with assorted packets. Five cakes, five fountains and fifteen roman candles are buried deep in the sand, with only the heads poking out.  “On count of three!” one of the girls shouts, and five guys stand ready behind the line of fireworks like a group of marathon runners, each holding a lighter. “Three, two, one, now!” On the girl’s signal, five guys light their designated bombs and run back. With a series of busy blasts and cracks, a parade of fire flowers bursts up into the sky. The parade doesn’t die soon, but flies along the wind’s path towards the sea as if to light up the other shore of downtown Auckland. An unexpected flowerbed forms in the sky. Some dogs plunge into the cold night sea as if to catch the reflected lights on the water. People laugh and swear, but soon follow the dogs and dive into the sea.

Several new groups of people come and go, and some young college kids bring packets of Fish ‘n’ Chips wrapped around in a gray paper. The others pull out some beers from their cars. The whole beach now becomes a large fireplace where families gather around with their dinner plates during cold winter nights. The scent of faraway land’s snow melted in the green leaves, the smudge on oily newspaper, salty deep-fried fish and fries with ketchup is now mixed with the scent of used gunpowder. A young guy lights fire on the used wrapping. The burning paper shrinks like an octopus in a jar and soon scatters into the night sky like gray moths. When it becomes only a few small burning dots in the sky, he shouts, “let’s go home mate!”  

The street lamps are dead and the streets are as dim as before. However, the sky is bright now. The moon is up. It is summer night, and the parking lot is full.


In three to four sentences:

The last remaining street lamp fades away and abandoned beach submerges into the night, leaving nothing visible except the dead seaweeds and shattering waves. But with the sound of the first fireworks, every living thing on the beach starts to wake up from its slumber, and scattered people start to gather around. The second boom numbs the sound of the waves and wind. With the third boom the distant sea becomes aflame with the color of freedom, and the sky starts to splash with colorful fire flowers.

The night falls on the parking lot. It is dark. It is summertime. The moon is yet to conjure up in the sky. The parking lot is empty, with only two or threecars carelessly left on the cold asphalt. The last street lamp on the lot blinks and disappears into the night. It never lights up again, just like the other street lamps that has been dead for ages. Glooming lights still remain on the left of the parking space as shops and restaurants prepare for the closing. On the right, a whisper of the waves fills the air. As you follow the whisper,the cold asphalt under your bare foot becomes dewy grassland, and you know you are in the right place for the night when your foot touches the soft sand of the beach.     

In front of you is the vast dead land of winds. No one seems to be there with you infront of the dark veil of the sea. Cries of the night insects have gone mute by the screaming of the sea. The whisper of the waves now becomes a screaming, thudding on your eardrums. Occasional wind flies past you, through you, and whirls around you with a remarkable menace. It is as if the wind carries the voice ofthe waves, so you feel like you are crashed by the thundering waves even when you are still standing on the soft sandy area, far away from the sea. A narrow trench that used to make a clear stream when the sea is softer is now empty and muddy with shadows. The beach that little boys ran around and old couples cruised along during the day has now become a No Man’s Land. The waves bombard towards you as if you are the last enemy that it has to crash to win the war. Imaginary bullets fly through your ears and you narrow your eyes to see the bellowing enemy that you are facing. However, the only thing you see is swirling dark oil moving like a snake in the faraway horizon. You try to remember how the beach looked like during the day, with the white waves breaking on the beach, the clear blue sea that shoots up the sunlight like a giant mirror, little girls laughing while soft sand tickles their feet and boys chasing the white waves as the water slowly draws away. But any of these is now only an illusion in your head. Now you are alone in this vacuum full of noises. You know you are choking from nothing but nonetheless you are suffocated to death. You are alone in front of this eternal night sea.