The Mooncakes of My Childhood
by Y. M. Pang
The mooncakes of my childhood were hard as rocks. I killed a man with them, in the fall of ‘68. He didn’t deserve it. He was just the grain seller. But Mother had been killed by Red Guards and Father had hung himself after delivering his self-criticism. I changed from bossy Big Sister to all my brother had left. I had to feed him.
I’d meant to steal the corn meal. But the seller spotted me, and I panicked, and when I saw the glint of his knife. . . (Continue Reading…)