Reflective Response to "Spring" in Kim Ki Duk's Film

For this 25 minute writing exercise, you can repost the following html code to have the condensed version of the video in your blog for the sake of context:


 
 
 
          Children can be so cruel. Often times, we consider children as a pure, innocent ones that we all started from at the very beginning of our lives. They view the world as it is. They express how they feel, and behave as they feel. But often times, we say children can be so cruel. Their childish innocence reflects their inner feelings and thoughts so directly, that it sometimes is shown to us as ‘cruelty’. They show the most basic and instinctual desires hiding in human minds.




          Mr. Kim Ki Duk’s film, ‘Spring’ showed us more than just children’s cruelty. It showed children’s process of learning. When a little boy did a wrongdoing, the monk punished him. The focus is, that the monk’s punishment was based on the method ‘an eye for an eye’. He did the same thing a little boy had misbehaved, trying to make the boy feel chastened and apologized. His punishment worked. Deeply realizing his mistake, the boy wept sadly. But this punishment seemed a little too harsh for modern society.



          Did the monk really need to tie a rock to the boy’s little back? Did the boy realize his mistake because there was a heavy rock tied to him? The rock might have worked as a motivation for the boy to be more obedient to the monk, but no, it was never the main factor that made the boy to actually find out his mistake. Let’s think of a case when the monk didn’t tie a rock to the boy. Just by looking at dead creatures, don’t you think the boy would have deeply felt guiltiness of what he’d done?



          We call children’s misbehaviors ‘mistake’, not ‘sin’. There’s a reason why. Their mistakes are mostly from their immature minds. They are mostly from the basic instinctual desires. They are not from children’s evil minds. Children just need shaping. They don’t need to be penitent for their mistakes. We call their misbehaviors ‘mistake’ because they lack judgment. Unlike adults, they do not know the line that distinguishes morality and immorality. Unlike adults, their misbehaviors are originated from their instinctual minds, not from their scheming intrigues. Being penitent for their misbehaviors is also important, but what they truly need is learning that such behaviors are bad. When they learn so, they would be able to repent for what they’ve done.



          People say children can be so cruel. And this is perhaps the main justification for punishing children harsh. But I’d like to call this children’s cruelty as ‘children’s truthfulness’. Children are ready to receive what we give. They are ready to learn what we teach. They have their ‘truthful emotions’. They are like blank sheet of paper that can reflect anything on it. We, as teachers in their life, need to draw right things on that sheet of paper softly and have our children on their right way.

Reading Journal

       What type of character do people typically sympathize the most? What type of character do they hate the most? What type of character do they really get into?
I can assure that the answer to all these questions is ‘character like me’. People sympathize, hate, and get into the character that reflects them the most. They feel a deep sympathy for situations they’ve gone through, feel hatred toward their own weaknesses, and eventually see themselves in that character. It sounds a little ironic, but this is how it works for me at least.

       There are numerous characters in this story-Andy Dufresne, Red, Hadley, Samuel Norton, Thomas, Normadan, Brooks, Ernie and several other characters. Among these, who is the person who resembles me the most? I just got a feeling that ‘Red’ was so much like me. So while reading the book, I was unconsciously paying most of my attention to Red. I noticed this when studying for my mid-term, when I figured out that I remembered quite many lines of Red’s words.

       Andy was the hero of this story. He discerned ridiculous contradictions in Shawshank. He saw all the depravities infiltrating into every people, vitiating their innocence. Instead of letting himself vitiated, Andy chose to get over it. It seemed impossible-warden superintending all over a prison, prison guards keeping eye on prisoners every second, and prisoners working in a mob under the sunlight burning their skin. But Andy made his way out all by himself. He had intolerable pressures. He was always concerning for his uncertain future. He planned and struggled to get out of Shawshank’s ‘vicious circle’. Sometimes he was unable to work on his plan for several months, but he patiently waited. His calm emotion collapsed when the chance to prove his innocence was ruined by Norton, but he settled himself. He went through a terribly long pipe, baring horrendous stink. When he reached the end of the pipe, he was free. The ‘hopeless hope’ had become true.

       Red was the narrator. He was a ‘capable’ man who could smuggle anything into Shawshank. He was a man who could accustom to prison lead a comfortable prison life. He was a great friend, and perhaps the only friend, of Andy Dufresne. And in some way, he availed Andy of getting him necessary stuffs (such as Rita Hayworth, Linda Ronstadt, rock hammer, and etc.) But he was also a man who remained an unconcerned spectator till the last page of the story. When Andy was placed in a solitary confinement, Red didn’t say a single cheering word to Andy. Knowing Andy’s innocence, Red remained amazingly neutral. When Tommy was sent to (or got the chance to move to) another prison, Red didn’t stop him or advised him of anything even though he knew the whole truth. I felt anger. How could a ‘best friend’ be so indifferent? But I was impressed of his superficial indifference at the same time. He was watching Andy every minute. He stepped back from Andy’s situation and did everything he could do for Andy while maintaining neutrality on the outside. I saw Red’s hidden sincerity.

       To me, this book was more than a ‘didactic literature’ which made me look around world and the people, and think about them. It was the ‘mirror’. Reading this story, I could see a girl who was perhaps not the best speaker but was the best listener, a girl who saw a lot of problems around her but never tried to fix them, and a girl who never had a striking passion coming across her mind. But at the end of this story, I saw a girl who finally left her first journey for the one who meant the most to her. I learned ‘passion’.

Chain Writing - Intro.

People never realize the importance of being ‘secure’ till they face an overwhelming task threatening them. I was one of these insensitive people until last month. Last month. I’ve never even thought about such a life-threatening risk. I liked the way my life had been--it was mundane, insignificant, and exceptionally ordinary. Oh, I have one more thing to point out about my previous serene life! I regarded ‘love’ as something holy and lovely. When thinking about ‘love’, I thought of a dreamlike love that appears in dramas and novels. Platonic love, erotic love, agape love, whatever it is. I thought love was always wonderful, cheerful, hopeful, and grateful. The thing is, I THOUGHT so.

I also didn’t know that serious risks come spontaneously without warning. Just a month ago, I tasted my first bitterness of love with no preparation, and I was just a stupid boy.

So, what actually happened was that the old couple next door moved out and a new family moved in. The family had a daughter, and the moment I first saw her, I felt a sudden shock. At first I saw her frosty cold face. Then I saw her glittering eyes, prominent nose, and her nice figure. Her jet-black hair was gleaming in the sunshine. Her compressed lips made me to imagine her pretty smile. I didn’t know that a girl could be so cold yet hot. I mean, she was beautiful. She really was. I guess I stared at her unintentionally which might have caught her attention. She turned to me, smiled at me, and asked, “Do you have something to say?” With my glued lips I became speechless. I just shook my head.

I got to know her better as we began meeting as neighbors. I got to know her name, her age, her favorite musician, her dog’s name, her ex-boyfriends, and even the color of her bed sheets. Her name was Shannon Casey, she was seventeen, her favorite musician was Every Tuesday. We even had dinner together. Our parents would invite us over to each other’s house on Tuesdays, and we would sit together facing each other while enjoying the greatest meal of the week. Her frostily cold face made it difficult for me to talk to her comfortably at first. In contrast to her countenance, she appeared to be a fascinating chatter. With her, I could talk about just about anything for several hours. It was very fun being with her.

We were both in high school—I, a sophomore, and she, a senior—but we went to different schools. Her school was a girl’s high school. Ewww. No boys in school. I bet if she went to a coed school, she would have had a ton of boys infatuated with her. Even to me, she appeared fabulously adorable. Not that I’m in an erotic love with her or anything, but she was plainly adorable. That’s it.

We built a special friendship. We went to theater together. We sometimes had a walk around the park together. And we sometimes spent the whole night, chatting. She had her own sentiment, and somehow, I could sympathize with her emotions. She often commented “You are so feminine. Not your voice, but your sentiment… And that’s why I like you.”

It was about a month later I met her when I first sensed a pleasant throb pounding my heart. This throb tickled my heart when I saw her smile. And it made me nervous when she put her arm around my shoulder. I fell in love with her. Soon, that ‘throbbing’ turned into ‘beating’, and I couldn’t bare secrets of my heart. So, at my backyard, when she put her arm around my shoulder as usual, I kissed her lips. She seemed all muzzled.

“Wha….What…..”

She stuttered. I suddenly got so shy. I just kissed her! Rapture and a worry both stroke my heart. I dashed to my front door. Leaving her all alone in the backyard, I went into my house.



The tragedy came there. Well, no. I would call it ‘catastrophe’. The next day I got to my school, I faced annoying glances of my classmates.

“What’s going on? Is there any problem here?”

I asked to a girl sitting next to me. Staring at my face for seconds, she left her seat without responding. I was embarrassed. What the hell was going on?

“Hey, Chase. Wha didn’t ya tell me?” Chris, my classmate, said to me hitting my back.

“Tell you what?” I asked.

“That you’re a pervert-like hooker who had gotten a married woman pregnant, of course! You b****.”

I was shocked.

“Wha…Hey… Where the hell did that ridiculous rumor came from?”

“Don’t shirk away like a girl! There’s a picture sent to our e-mails, you b****!”

I couldn’t say a word. Whoever had spread this rumor, I was going to sue that person for defamation. Well, until I knew who ‘that person’ was, I thought so. And ‘that person’ came to be, my beloved Shannon.

I became a corrupt reprobate in my school. I partly understand it, since I would consider a ‘hooker who got a married woman pregnant’ as a corrupt reprobate. But, I’m not! Whoever composed that picture, that person should be a Photoshop professional.



Anyway, I decided to focus on my academic things. Apparently, not many people willed to hang around with me, so I felt a bit isolated. Just a little lonely, I would say. I devoted myself to my studies. I had a hope that this isolation would stop when I go to college. Except for when I had a meal, went to the bathroom, and slept, all I did was to open a book and read it. My mother asked me if I had any problem at school, but I said no. Somehow I didn’t want to tell any part about my lonely school life to her.

We took Exam in February. It wasn’t so bad. I got almost every questions solved. But the result was outrageous. I got an F. For my Algebra and Literature, I got an ‘F’. I immediately went to teacher’s office in order to make sure the score was correct.

“There’s no problem with your score, Chase.” The teacher said, quite indifferently.

“There must be a problem. I can’t get F.” I was desperate.

“Chase, I’m very disappointed at you, and I don’t want to talk to you right now. I’d like you to go out of this room.” The teacher answered, looking in my eyes.

“But why?” I asked. My heart was pounding. What the hell happened?

“Let me ask you something, and I hope you answer honestly. Did you cheat on this test?”

“No!” I shouted. Did I cheat? No. I only remembered doing my best for my exam. I never cheated. I swear.

“I found a pencil mark left in another’s test paper. It showed your name.” The teacher said with a sigh.

“Did you force another to take the test for you?”

I shook my head. The teacher stared at me.



I lost the teacher’s confidence. So did with my friends, too. I hated to go to school. Sometimes, when I was walking by a street, somebody would throw a rock on my head. But I couldn’t do anything. What disturbed me the most was the text message from no number. Often times, the message included swearing words that were mostly towards me. More freaking was the fact that the text sender seemed to know my occupation in any place, in any time. I shuddered when I got those messages.



On March 23rd, I returned from school and tried to open the front door. But I couldn’t. It was locked. I shifted the load from side to side, slammed the door hard, but it didn’t open. I sat in front of the door and waited until I could get into my house. About half an hour later, my mom opened the door and handed me a heavy box. It had my name on. But immediately after I got the box, she closed the door again so that I couldn’t get in. I sat on the floor and opened the box. Gosh, it was full of white powders, few swindles, and one rifle. Drugs and rifle. I wondered, did my mom just abandon me? The answer to that, I concluded, was yes.





Now I’m in my own house, in my own room. Or else I could call my room, a ‘cell’. I don’t remember what happened to me on the night of March 23rd. But I remember holding a rifle, pointing it to a beautiful, fabulous, icy cold snow-faced girl, and squeezing the trigger. Baammmm. That was it.


People never realize the importance of being ‘secure’ till they face an overwhelming task threatening them. I was one of these insensitive people until last month. Last month. I’ve never even thought about such a life-threatening risk. I liked the way my life had been--it was mundane, insignificant, and exceptionally ordinary. Oh, I have one more thing to point out about my previous serene life! I regarded ‘love’ as something holy and lovely. When thinking about ‘love’, I thought of a dreamlike love that appears in dramas and novels. Platonic love, erotic love, agape love, whatever it is. I thought love was always wonderful, cheerful, hopeful, and grateful. The thing is, I THOUGHT so.


I also didn’t know that serious risks come spontaneously without warning. Just a month ago, I tasted my first bitterness of love with no preparation, and I was just a stupid boy.

So, what actually happened was that the old couple next door moved out and a new family moved in. The family had a daughter, and the moment I first saw her, I felt a sudden shock. At first I saw her frosty cold face. Then I saw her glittering eyes, prominent nose, and her nice figure. Her jet-black hair was gleaming in the sunshine. Her compressed lips made me to imagine her pretty smile. I didn’t know that a girl could be so cold yet hot. I mean, she was beautiful. She really was. I guess I stared at her unintentionally which might have caught her attention. She turned to me, smiled at me, and asked, “Do you have something to say?” With my glued lips I became speechless. I just shook my head.

I got to know her better as we began meeting as neighbors. I got to know her name, her age, her favorite musician, her dog’s name, her ex-boyfriends, and even the color of her bed sheets. Her name was Shannon Casey, she was seventeen, her favorite musician was Every Tuesday. We even had dinner together. Our parents would invite us over to each other’s house on Tuesdays, and we would sit together facing each other while enjoying the greatest meal of the week. Her frostily cold face made it difficult for me to talk to her comfortably at first. In contrast to her countenance, she appeared to be a fascinating chatter. With her, I could talk about just about anything for several hours. It was very fun being with her.

We were both in high school—I, a sophomore, and she, a senior—but we went to different schools. Her school was a girl’s high school. Ewww. No boys in school. I bet if she went to a coed school, she would have had a ton of boys infatuated with her. Even to me, she appeared fabulously adorable. Not that I’m in an erotic love with her or anything, but she was plainly adorable. That’s it.

We built a special friendship. We went to theater together. We sometimes had a walk around the park together. And we sometimes spent the whole night, chatting. She had her own sentiment, and somehow, I could sympathize with her emotions. She often commented “You are so feminine. Not your voice, but your sentiment… And that’s why I like you.”





It was about a month later I met her when I first sensed a pleasant throb pounding my heart. This throb tickled my heart when I saw her smile. And it made me nervous when she put her arm around my shoulder. I fell in love with her. Soon, that ‘throbbing’ turned into ‘beating’, and I couldn’t bare secrets of my heart. So, at my backyard, when she put her arm around my shoulder as usual, I kissed her lips. She seemed all muzzled.

“Wha….What…..”

She stuttered. I suddenly got so shy. I just kissed her! Rapture and a worry both stroke my heart. I dashed to my front door. Leaving her all alone in the backyard, I went into my house.



The tragedy came there. Well, no. I would call it ‘catastrophe’. The next day I got to my school, I faced annoying glances of my classmates.

“What’s going on? Is there any problem here?”

I asked to a girl sitting next to me. Staring at my face for seconds, she left her seat without responding. I was embarrassed. What the hell was going on?

“Hey, Chase. Wha didn’t ya tell me?” Chris, my classmate, said to me hitting my back.

“Tell you what?” I asked.

“That you’re a pervert-like hooker who had gotten a married woman pregnant, of course! You b****.”

I was shocked.

“Wha…Hey… Where the hell did that ridiculous rumor came from?”

“Don’t shirk away like a girl! There’s a picture sent to our e-mails, you b****!”

I couldn’t say a word. Whoever had spread this rumor, I was going to sue that person for defamation. Well, until I knew who ‘that person’ was, I thought so. And ‘that person’ came to be, my beloved Shannon.

I became a corrupt reprobate in my school. I partly understand it, since I would consider a ‘hooker who got a married woman pregnant’ as a corrupt reprobate. But, I’m not! Whoever composed that picture, that person should be a Photoshop professional.



Anyway, I decided to focus on my academic things. Apparently, not many people willed to hang around with me, so I felt a bit isolated. Just a little lonely, I would say. I devoted myself to my studies. I had a hope that this isolation would stop when I go to college. Except for when I had a meal, went to the bathroom, and slept, all I did was to open a book and read it. My mother asked me if I had any problem at school, but I said no. Somehow I didn’t want to tell any part about my lonely school life to her.

We took Exam in February. It wasn’t so bad. I got almost every questions solved. But the result was outrageous. I got an F. For my Algebra and Literature, I got an ‘F’. I immediately went to teacher’s office in order to make sure the score was correct.

“There’s no problem with your score, Chase.” The teacher said, quite indifferently.

“There must be a problem. I can’t get F.” I was desperate.

“Chase, I’m very disappointed at you, and I don’t want to talk to you right now. I’d like you to go out of this room.” The teacher answered, looking in my eyes.

“But why?” I asked. My heart was pounding. What the hell happened?

“Let me ask you something, and I hope you answer honestly. Did you cheat on this test?”

“No!” I shouted. Did I cheat? No. I only remembered doing my best for my exam. I never cheated. I swear.

“I found a pencil mark left in another’s test paper. It showed your name.” The teacher said with a sigh.

“Did you force another to take the test for you?”

I shook my head. The teacher stared at me.



I lost the teacher’s confidence. So did with my friends, too. I hated to go to school. Sometimes, when I was walking by a street, somebody would throw a rock on my head. But I couldn’t do anything. What disturbed me the most was the text message from no number. Often times, the message included swearing words that were mostly towards me. More freaking was the fact that the text sender seemed to know my occupation in any place, in any time. I shuddered when I got those messages.



On March 23rd, I returned from school and tried to open the front door. But I couldn’t. It was locked. I shifted the load from side to side, slammed the door hard, but it didn’t open. I sat in front of the door and waited until I could get into my house. About half an hour later, my mom opened the door and handed me a heavy box. It had my name on. But immediately after I got the box, she closed the door again so that I couldn’t get in. I sat on the floor and opened the box. Gosh, it was full of white powders, few swindles, and one rifle. Drugs and rifle. I wondered, did my mom just abandon me? The answer to that, I concluded, was yes.





Now I’m in my own house, in my own room. Or else I could call my room, a ‘cell’. I don’t remember what happened to me on the night of March 23rd. But I remember holding a rifle, pointing it to a beautiful, fabulous, icy cold snow-faced girl, and squeezing the trigger. Baammmm. That was it.



People never realize the importance of being ‘secure’ till they face an overwhelming task threatening them. I was one of these insensitive people until last month. Last month. I’ve never even thought about such a life-threatening risk. I liked the way my life had been--it was mundane, insignificant, and exceptionally ordinary. Oh, I have one more thing to point out about my previous serene life! I regarded ‘love’ as something holy and lovely. When thinking about ‘love’, I thought of a dreamlike love that appears in dramas and novels. Platonic love, erotic love, agape love, whatever it is. I thought love was always wonderful, cheerful, hopeful, and grateful. The thing is, I THOUGHT so.


I also didn’t know that serious risks come spontaneously without warning. Just a month ago, I tasted my first bitterness of love with no preparation, and I was just a stupid boy.

So, what actually happened was that the old couple next door moved out and a new family moved in. The family had a daughter, and the moment I first saw her, I felt a sudden shock. At first I saw her frosty cold face. Then I saw her glittering eyes, prominent nose, and her nice figure. Her jet-black hair was gleaming in the sunshine. Her compressed lips made me to imagine her pretty smile. I didn’t know that a girl could be so cold yet hot. I mean, she was beautiful. She really was. I guess I stared at her unintentionally which might have caught her attention. She turned to me, smiled at me, and asked, “Do you have something to say?” With my glued lips I became speechless. I just shook my head.

I got to know her better as we began meeting as neighbors. I got to know her name, her age, her favorite musician, her dog’s name, her ex-boyfriends, and even the color of her bed sheets. Her name was Shannon Casey, she was seventeen, her favorite musician was Every Tuesday. We even had dinner together. Our parents would invite us over to each other’s house on Tuesdays, and we would sit together facing each other while enjoying the greatest meal of the week. Her frostily cold face made it difficult for me to talk to her comfortably at first. In contrast to her countenance, she appeared to be a fascinating chatter. With her, I could talk about just about anything for several hours. It was very fun being with her.

We were both in high school—I, a sophomore, and she, a senior—but we went to different schools. Her school was a girl’s high school. Ewww. No boys in school. I bet if she went to a coed school, she would have had a ton of boys infatuated with her. Even to me, she appeared fabulously adorable. Not that I’m in an erotic love with her or anything, but she was plainly adorable. That’s it.

We built a special friendship. We went to theater together. We sometimes had a walk around the park together. And we sometimes spent the whole night, chatting. She had her own sentiment, and somehow, I could sympathize with her emotions. She often commented “You are so feminine. Not your voice, but your sentiment… And that’s why I like you.”





It was about a month later I met her when I first sensed a pleasant throb pounding my heart. This throb tickled my heart when I saw her smile. And it made me nervous when she put her arm around my shoulder. I fell in love with her. Soon, that ‘throbbing’ turned into ‘beating’, and I couldn’t bare secrets of my heart. So, at my backyard, when she put her arm around my shoulder as usual, I kissed her lips. She seemed all muzzled.

“Wha….What…..”

She stuttered. I suddenly got so shy. I just kissed her! Rapture and a worry both stroke my heart. I dashed to my front door. Leaving her all alone in the backyard, I went into my house.



The tragedy came there. Well, no. I would call it ‘catastrophe’. The next day I got to my school, I faced annoying glances of my classmates.

“What’s going on? Is there any problem here?”

I asked to a girl sitting next to me. Staring at my face for seconds, she left her seat without responding. I was embarrassed. What the hell was going on?

“Hey, Chase. Wha didn’t ya tell me?” Chris, my classmate, said to me hitting my back.

“Tell you what?” I asked.

“That you’re a pervert-like hooker who had gotten a married woman pregnant, of course! You b****.”

I was shocked.

“Wha…Hey… Where the hell did that ridiculous rumor came from?”

“Don’t shirk away like a girl! There’s a picture sent to our e-mails, you b****!”

I couldn’t say a word. Whoever had spread this rumor, I was going to sue that person for defamation. Well, until I knew who ‘that person’ was, I thought so. And ‘that person’ came to be, my beloved Shannon.

I became a corrupt reprobate in my school. I partly understand it, since I would consider a ‘hooker who got a married woman pregnant’ as a corrupt reprobate. But, I’m not! Whoever composed that picture, that person should be a Photoshop professional.



Anyway, I decided to focus on my academic things. Apparently, not many people willed to hang around with me, so I felt a bit isolated. Just a little lonely, I would say. I devoted myself to my studies. I had a hope that this isolation would stop when I go to college. Except for when I had a meal, went to the bathroom, and slept, all I did was to open a book and read it. My mother asked me if I had any problem at school, but I said no. Somehow I didn’t want to tell any part about my lonely school life to her.

We took Exam in February. It wasn’t so bad. I got almost every questions solved. But the result was outrageous. I got an F. For my Algebra and Literature, I got an ‘F’. I immediately went to teacher’s office in order to make sure the score was correct.

“There’s no problem with your score, Chase.” The teacher said, quite indifferently.

“There must be a problem. I can’t get F.” I was desperate.

“Chase, I’m very disappointed at you, and I don’t want to talk to you right now. I’d like you to go out of this room.” The teacher answered, looking in my eyes.

“But why?” I asked. My heart was pounding. What the hell happened?

“Let me ask you something, and I hope you answer honestly. Did you cheat on this test?”

“No!” I shouted. Did I cheat? No. I only remembered doing my best for my exam. I never cheated. I swear.

“I found a pencil mark left in another’s test paper. It showed your name.” The teacher said with a sigh.

“Did you force another to take the test for you?”

I shook my head. The teacher stared at me.



I lost the teacher’s confidence. So did with my friends, too. I hated to go to school. Sometimes, when I was walking by a street, somebody would throw a rock on my head. But I couldn’t do anything. What disturbed me the most was the text message from no number. Often times, the message included swearing words that were mostly towards me. More freaking was the fact that the text sender seemed to know my occupation in any place, in any time. I shuddered when I got those messages.



On March 23rd, I returned from school and tried to open the front door. But I couldn’t. It was locked. I shifted the load from side to side, slammed the door hard, but it didn’t open. I sat in front of the door and waited until I could get into my house. About half an hour later, my mom opened the door and handed me a heavy box. It had my name on. But immediately after I got the box, she closed the door again so that I couldn’t get in. I sat on the floor and opened the box. Gosh, it was full of white powders, few swindles, and one rifle. Drugs and rifle. I wondered, did my mom just abandon me? The answer to that, I concluded, was yes.





Now I’m in my own house, in my own room. Or else I could call my room, a ‘cell’. I don’t remember what happened to me on the night of March 23rd. But I remember holding a rifle, pointing it to a beautiful, fabulous, icy cold snow-faced girl, and squeezing the trigger. Baammmm. That was it.



People never realize the importance of being ‘secure’ till they face an overwhelming task threatening them. I was one of these insensitive people until last month. Last month. I’ve never even thought about such a life-threatening risk. I liked the way my life had been--it was mundane, insignificant, and exceptionally ordinary. Oh, I have one more thing to point out about my previous serene life! I regarded ‘love’ as something holy and lovely. When thinking about ‘love’, I thought of a dreamlike love that appears in dramas and novels. Platonic love, erotic love, agape love, whatever it is. I thought love was always wonderful, cheerful, hopeful, and grateful. The thing is, I THOUGHT so.


I also didn’t know that serious risks come spontaneously without warning. Just a month ago, I tasted my first bitterness of love with no preparation, and I was just a stupid boy.

So, what actually happened was that the old couple next door moved out and a new family moved in. The family had a daughter, and the moment I first saw her, I felt a sudden shock. At first I saw her frosty cold face. Then I saw her glittering eyes, prominent nose, and her nice figure. Her jet-black hair was gleaming in the sunshine. Her compressed lips made me to imagine her pretty smile. I didn’t know that a girl could be so cold yet hot. I mean, she was beautiful. She really was. I guess I stared at her unintentionally which might have caught her attention. She turned to me, smiled at me, and asked, “Do you have something to say?” With my glued lips I became speechless. I just shook my head.

I got to know her better as we began meeting as neighbors. I got to know her name, her age, her favorite musician, her dog’s name, her ex-boyfriends, and even the color of her bed sheets. Her name was Shannon Casey, she was seventeen, her favorite musician was Every Tuesday. We even had dinner together. Our parents would invite us over to each other’s house on Tuesdays, and we would sit together facing each other while enjoying the greatest meal of the week. Her frostily cold face made it difficult for me to talk to her comfortably at first. In contrast to her countenance, she appeared to be a fascinating chatter. With her, I could talk about just about anything for several hours. It was very fun being with her.

We were both in high school—I, a sophomore, and she, a senior—but we went to different schools. Her school was a girl’s high school. Ewww. No boys in school. I bet if she went to a coed school, she would have had a ton of boys infatuated with her. Even to me, she appeared fabulously adorable. Not that I’m in an erotic love with her or anything, but she was plainly adorable. That’s it.

We built a special friendship. We went to theater together. We sometimes had a walk around the park together. And we sometimes spent the whole night, chatting. She had her own sentiment, and somehow, I could sympathize with her emotions. She often commented “You are so feminine. Not your voice, but your sentiment… And that’s why I like you.”





It was about a month later I met her when I first sensed a pleasant throb pounding my heart. This throb tickled my heart when I saw her smile. And it made me nervous when she put her arm around my shoulder. I fell in love with her. Soon, that ‘throbbing’ turned into ‘beating’, and I couldn’t bare secrets of my heart. So, at my backyard, when she put her arm around my shoulder as usual, I kissed her lips. She seemed all muzzled.

“Wha….What…..”

She stuttered. I suddenly got so shy. I just kissed her! Rapture and a worry both stroke my heart. I dashed to my front door. Leaving her all alone in the backyard, I went into my house.



The tragedy came there. Well, no. I would call it ‘catastrophe’. The next day I got to my school, I faced annoying glances of my classmates.

“What’s going on? Is there any problem here?”

I asked to a girl sitting next to me. Staring at my face for seconds, she left her seat without responding. I was embarrassed. What the hell was going on?

“Hey, Chase. Wha didn’t ya tell me?” Chris, my classmate, said to me hitting my back.

“Tell you what?” I asked.

“That you’re a pervert-like hooker who had gotten a married woman pregnant, of course! You b****.”

I was shocked.

“Wha…Hey… Where the hell did that ridiculous rumor came from?”

“Don’t shirk away like a girl! There’s a picture sent to our e-mails, you b****!”

I couldn’t say a word. Whoever had spread this rumor, I was going to sue that person for defamation. Well, until I knew who ‘that person’ was, I thought so. And ‘that person’ came to be, my beloved Shannon.

I became a corrupt reprobate in my school. I partly understand it, since I would consider a ‘hooker who got a married woman pregnant’ as a corrupt reprobate. But, I’m not! Whoever composed that picture, that person should be a Photoshop professional.



Anyway, I decided to focus on my academic things. Apparently, not many people willed to hang around with me, so I felt a bit isolated. Just a little lonely, I would say. I devoted myself to my studies. I had a hope that this isolation would stop when I go to college. Except for when I had a meal, went to the bathroom, and slept, all I did was to open a book and read it. My mother asked me if I had any problem at school, but I said no. Somehow I didn’t want to tell any part about my lonely school life to her.

We took Exam in February. It wasn’t so bad. I got almost every questions solved. But the result was outrageous. I got an F. For my Algebra and Literature, I got an ‘F’. I immediately went to teacher’s office in order to make sure the score was correct.

“There’s no problem with your score, Chase.” The teacher said, quite indifferently.

“There must be a problem. I can’t get F.” I was desperate.

“Chase, I’m very disappointed at you, and I don’t want to talk to you right now. I’d like you to go out of this room.” The teacher answered, looking in my eyes.

“But why?” I asked. My heart was pounding. What the hell happened?

“Let me ask you something, and I hope you answer honestly. Did you cheat on this test?”

“No!” I shouted. Did I cheat? No. I only remembered doing my best for my exam. I never cheated. I swear.

“I found a pencil mark left in another’s test paper. It showed your name.” The teacher said with a sigh.

“Did you force another to take the test for you?”

I shook my head. The teacher stared at me.



I lost the teacher’s confidence. So did with my friends, too. I hated to go to school. Sometimes, when I was walking by a street, somebody would throw a rock on my head. But I couldn’t do anything. What disturbed me the most was the text message from no number. Often times, the message included swearing words that were mostly towards me. More freaking was the fact that the text sender seemed to know my occupation in any place, in any time. I shuddered when I got those messages.



On March 23rd, I returned from school and tried to open the front door. But I couldn’t. It was locked. I shifted the load from side to side, slammed the door hard, but it didn’t open. I sat in front of the door and waited until I could get into my house. About half an hour later, my mom opened the door and handed me a heavy box. It had my name on. But immediately after I got the box, she closed the door again so that I couldn’t get in. I sat on the floor and opened the box. Gosh, it was full of white powders, few swindles, and one rifle. Drugs and rifle. I wondered, did my mom just abandon me? The answer to that, I concluded, was yes.





Now I’m in my own house, in my own room. Or else I could call my room, a ‘cell’. I don’t remember what happened to me on the night of March 23rd. But I remember holding a rifle, pointing it to a beautiful, fabulous, icy cold snow-faced girl, and squeezing the trigger. Baammmm. That was it.