Broken Dream, p.2Joyce Chng
Where is Tern? Where is Tern? They shouted and followed me as I made my way skywards.
She is dead! I cried but the wind tore the words away from my lips. I looked at the stream of angels, chasing me, their wings in all colors. They were beautiful. They were ephemeral.
Laughter bubbled forth from my body, unbidden, welcome. I laughed as I winged towards the hiding sun.
I am still waiting for that final day. I have to admit that a few years have passed and I have taken over Tern’s role. I am twenty but my body feels as if it is fifty. Perhaps, Tern is right. You can feel it in the bones.
Meanwhile, Meng remains the same. A broken dream.
I took a lot of references from Chinese culture to create a world that is half-dream, half-patchwork of many things. Indeed, the name “Meng” is a literal translation of the Mandarin word for “Dream”. Similarly for “Min” (“Life”).
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