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Sha Yan

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Bypass
By Sha Yan
Thursday, September 13, 2012

Rated "G" by the Author.

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My short story "Bypass", I may use it for the title for my coming up short story collection.

Bypass

Sha Yan
 
        I had a dream. The dream was neither enchanting, nor sad, nor desperate. I saw the flesh, and blood, in various places, flesh and blood that was white and red, skull, brain. I was then half-awake, half-sleeping, I saw the Heaven. White doves flapped their wings, silence. Then angels sang Halleluiah. And the sky opened, it was pale and white, specifically, then I saw the immediate light, so shiny that is like the sunshine but paler. Angels sang Halleluiah again, and then I became awake.
       
I wore my pyjama, and made myself a cup of coffee. Then I picked today’s newspaper from the front door. Sitting down, I sipped coffee, and started to read, the murder headline, then the Financial, and the Entertainment. I felt worried, for the business around the city. I turned into the kitchen, brought Whiskey, poured a glass, and added some of it to my coffee from the glass. Then I drank the whole shot. I felt a little high. Then I had another shot.
 
Outside of my door, rhododendron was blooming in my front garden, scarlet. The path to front door was wet; it was raining for the morning. The concrete of the wall of my house is light grey; it stood still rigidly in the rain.
       
I picked a Playboy magazine after a little thought and bought a pack of Rothman King Size in the Tabagie a couple blocks away from my home. Then I went into Provigo opposite the shop. I bought some groceries. It was still morning, about 10AM, when I put the groceries and the Playboy magazine in my car parking in the parking lot. I went into the bar underground in the basement of Tabagie, and I had a beer and thought, what the heck, God will forgive me. It was not the first time I did that.
        
It wasn’t too bad, the TV program this morning. The View, I watched it a little, I often watch the View, and they made you laugh. At noon, it was the news; I turned the TV off and had a sandwich for lunch, alone, by myself.
       
I was married a couple of years ago, to my wife from China. I was also from China about sixteen years ago to this place, Montreal, Canada. I studied and worked for a while, and then I married her when I was working in US. I quitted my job in the US and came back to Canada to sponsor her here. But when she came here, and found I didn’t have a job and steady income, she left me and went for her study here in Canada. She stayed.
       
I was bored in the afternoon. I went on Internet to the chat room. Sometimes I really liked chat rooms, but also sometimes I found it made little sense. I told my dream this morning to people in the chat room; you don’t know what they said. They said, “get a job, indulge yourself.”
       
I had another glass of liquor, and started to read the Playboy magazine. I love women. Here they were, naked in front of me, on the magazine. I thought, there is no end of life; I am thirty six, separated, there was no reason I can’t read the magazine. Time passed three; I had a nap, with the Playboy Magazine laying beside me on my bed.
       
That was my day, seven days a week, 24 hours a day. I was just too tired. Too tired of everything, anything, marriage, love, religion and life. About five O’clock, I woke up. A sales man called me and offered me a vacation to Disney World package for ninety nine dollars, I said no. I urgently need to keep every cent of the welfare money I receive, when I receive it. Anyway, I went to Disney World once already.
       
Are there miracles in life? I expect it, I need to be saved. Bypassing the day like this did not make much sense, boring and dull, drought, and liquor. I’ve had this liquor problem for quite a while. I remembered the dream I had this morning. Did God come to save my soul? But still it was, my life went on like this for years. I had no hope. Hope, hope is the only medicine, I expected, God, how could it be? My life.
       
I am a Christian, baptized thirteen years ago in a local Montreal church, when I was still in the university. My school days weren’t too bad, life was hopeful by the time. I tried to become good in my church, attending Bible study groups and Sunday services. I used to dress always in suit to attend the Sunday services, never in jeans. And I never missed Sunday service when I was young. I think God loved me by that time, even though I smoked a lot, nearly a pack of cigarettes a day. I was passionate for church activities, and I remembered the time when I was young and happy.
       
Dinner time came, mom cooked for us. We were having chicken, beef and broccoli, and tofu soup. I poured myself a glass of red wine, also got two glasses for my mom and dad. Red, the wine in the glasses, made me think about the dream this morning, flesh and blood in my dream. I sipped. Dinner went well; dishes were plain, just so plain. Mom added little salt for the dishes. I tried to talk to my mom during the dinner, but I couldn‘t. No, I didn’t want to talk. So we just ate, plainly.       
 
I am obsessed with my life now, women, men, people, kids and things around me. I am obsessed with the subways stops. I live very far away, in the suburb and often I come to downtown and have to take the subway. I often keep on counting the subways stops before I reach my final destination, prominently, five stops more, four, three. Often I rested in thoughts in the running subway, and when a couple of stops passed, I feel glad. I wouldn’t mind if I lived close to downtown and take a couple of subways stops.
 
I am a pretty fearless man, and many times I think I only sometimes have fears for God. And I think His mightiness will save me and bring me to Heaven when I die, I don’t know it is so quick and it is happening now. I have metamorphosis and I am ill. I do pray.
 
Alcohol kills some of my time, times to buy it at SAQ and times to drink it and have a little highness. Dreadful, my life is now. The only thing I liked in my life now is that I read quite often. Fiction and poetry are my true love. I started to write when I was thirty three, with whole many years of reading experiences and writing workshop from the church I attended in California. I especially attended the writing workshop. That taught me a lot.
       
At eight, I sat down in front of my desk and my computer. I started to write, my experience and my story, poetry. I suddenly felt that I am hopeful; I could become a good writer. I looked at my desk lamp; the light is warm and shiny. I thought about it. And I turned my thoughts into words, sentences, urgently. Yes, I could write.
       
Night came fast, I was still sitting in front of my desk, writing. Now it was the time for bed. Should I say prayer to God before I go to bed and ask Him for forgiveness? I thought about the dream again, maybe God was really coming to save my soul. Yes, save my soul, God, please, I will be good. I thought God could create miracles.
       

The next morning, I passed the cemetery near Henri Bourassa; I especially went in to see the people buried there. May they rest in Heaven, I thought. I lighted a cigarette, and sat on the chair in the cemetery, and rested in thoughts.


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