Shadows of Destiny: Forged by Fate

Before I turned 8

7 years later

August 2002

Lucky sat devastated, her little feet kicking at the end of the garden bench, her shirt collar soaked with snot and tears.

"Why was life so unfair?" she thought bitterly.

Not even the little yellow daisy in her hands could bring a smile to her face. She wanted to crush them under her black Mary Janes until they were nothing but a random splotch of green and yellow on the sidewalk pavement.

The man on the podium had handed them to her from each box, leaning down to her level, telling her that if she kept them in water, they would grow and live for a long time. His words had brought tears to everyone in the crowd, but to Lucky, they rang hollow.

She wanted to tell him it wasn't true. Flowers needed more than just water to survive. They needed sun, soil, and a lot of care and love to thrive for a long time. She was too young to give a plant a life like that, and she didn't want to see these little yellow daisies shrivel up and die in a box.

The man had spoken of "God and His will," but Lucky didn't quite understand. The God she knew was the one she prayed to before bed and meals, the one she was taught to thank for her clothes, home, and toys every day.

Was she supposed to thank Him for this? She wondered.

In her mind, the closing of the boxes kept replaying.

Why did they have to close them?

Why was this happening?

Why couldn't they stay there forever?

That way, Lucky could visit them. Even though they couldn't speak to her, she could still touch their faces. That way, she could know they were real.

Why did Aunt Dee have to grab her hand and lead her to the boxes, guiding her to say "Goodbye to Uncle Quan and Auntie Nette"? Why did she say it would be the last time she'd see them, then scold her when she tried to touch their faces?

Touch and sight were just the same.

She had pictures of them; in fact, there were two large ones in front of their boxes. But what really stuck with her was that once the boxes closed, she would never get to feel them again. It made her skin wet and her stomach hurt.

"What about hearing?" she thought. "What about their voices, their scents, the feeling of their skin?" Lucky just wanted to embrace them one last time, if this was truly the end.

One last hug. One last kiss. One last moment.

Lucky was grateful that the bench faced a small garden of flowers and a fountain that read, "I don't think of all the misery, but of the beauty that still remains." It didn't take her long to sound out the words and read them; Uncle Quan would be proud.

She was tired of everyone's eyes on her, their whispers as they passed, and all the drama this situation brought. She wondered if her mother felt the same.

Lisa Johnson, a woman Lucky had only heard whispers and occasional words about, appeared before her in the flesh for the first time. She recognized her from pictures, from snippets of other people's memories, and sometimes from words tinged with disdain. Seeing her in person, however, was a different experience altogether.

Lisa was dressed in a black polyester dress with gloves, a big church hat adorned with lace netting flowing over her eyes, and she carried a white handkerchief with an unfamiliar pink and green logo. Throughout the service, she remained glued to the side of a man whose face was unfamiliar to Lucky. She spoke only to Lucky's grandmother, Aunt Dee, and all of Lucky's cousins.