Setting the sun...

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Crowds: Mr. Tang Part Three

Happy Monday everyone! Sorry that this post is a little late, I spent most of the day recuperating from a nasty cold/infection and didn’t schedule this post, so I just hit ‘publish!’. I hope you enjoy Mr. Tang’s third part below, and as always don’t forget to send any comments my way and subscribe to my blog when you get the chance by typing in your email address and hitting send!
Enjoy!

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His feet where leading the way but his mind hadn’t quite caught up. Things were getting quite confusing. Sometimes he felt like he was sleeping when he was awake and other times it felt like he was experiencing permanent memory loss.
He heard the reassuring voices of his children in his head as his feet progressed up the street. He looked to his little yellow balloon and, with smile that triggered an important detail, he skipped up the street.
“The hairdresser’s closed, dear.” He heard Mae’s voice wrap around his mind like a comforting scarf. “Meet me at the park.”
He licked his lips as he entered through the gates. He disregarded the bitter grey clouds in the distance and thought of warm sunshine enveloping him. Crossing over the green grass, he eventually found his wife, Mae, waving at him joyfully. He quickened his steps and embraced her, a warm gooey feeling like her butterscotch cakes filling filled his heart.
“I knew you’d remember, my sweet potato,” she chuckled, her cheeks reddening like a pale flower.
“It’s my silly mind,” he tried to explain. “Broken like a fallen dinner plate.”
“It adds character,” she justified. “Nothing or no one is perfect, not even porcelain or wonderful husbands.”
He kissed her on the cheek and handed her one of the brown paper bags. “I remembered this. I hope I got you the right one.”
She peeked in the bag and her eyes glimmered. “Yes, you did!”
“Why don’t you bake anymore, dear?” he asked, sitting opposite her.
“You know why, dear,” she said carefully, unwrapping the plastic film over her carrot cake, before gesturing above them. “What a lovely colour.”
He found himself confused for a moment or two, but then he looked above at the bobbling yellow balloon and reacted quickly. “Yes! I’m so sorry, here,” he handed her the string, “this is for you.”
“My favorite colour,” she chuckled. “Thank you, my sweet potato.”
“I wish I could have got you more,” he insisted. “I’d buy you the whole world if I could. Anything you want, I wish I could give you.”
“I only want one thing,” she said, and her eyes darkened a little. “Let’s make a wish together, then set the balloon free.”
“Of course,” he nodded. It was a tradition that they acted out every birthday in their family. “You’d like me to wish too?”
“Yes,” Mae put the string in-between then as her eyes glossed over with the threat of tears, “Let’s.”
Mr. Tang curled his fingers around his wife’s and look deeply into her eyes. Behind them he could see every memory of every birthday, anniversary and graduation as clear as the lines that patterned her face. She was a walking representation of his life. Mae was the rose that he never deserved, the gem that he could never afford.
“You can pay me back later,” she joked, reading his mind. “Close your eyes, dear, and wish hard.”
Mr. Tang did as his wife instructed and, with eyes closed, his mind filled with a sadness that soaked into his heart like a hurtling tidal wave. Feelings, thoughts and a collection of memories then stung him like a sting from the most demonic insect. He grasped Mae’s hand tighter as blistering tears tumbled down his face.
“I wish you could leave the park,” he whispered to her.
“I do too, my sweet potato,” his wife’s voice began to fade, the grip she had on him weakened. “I do too.”
Mr. Tang opened his eyes and blinked a few times at the confusing scene in front of him. His wife’s body was gone, her carrot cake sat beside him unopened and the yellow balloon was still gripped in his hand. The sun then peeked behind an allowing and emitted a beam of light across the surface of a tombstone.

Mae Tang
1951-2013
Loving mother and cherished wife.


  • Mr. Tangs’s story [Part Four] continues on [MON/OCT/20].
  • This narrative was edited by my wonderful editor: Kayla Marie Murphy. Contact: kaylamariemurphy@hotmail.com for any inquiries.
  • Creative Credit for Mr. Tangs’s image goes to the wonderful and supremely talented Jinny Park, whose Instagram feed you can check out at: http://www.instagram.com/somethingpeach.
    Thank you so much Jinny for this wonderful collaboration!
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