Family Remains

Fen yang woke up to his morning scraps. A small plate sat in the doorway of the tiny cupboard where the boy slept. Cobwebs rested in each corner of the ceiling, and pockets of dust hung in the air. Fen yang slid from his wooden, coverless bed, the brittle bones in his ankles making a slight cracking noise as his feet hit the cold floor. He dropped down onto his skinny hands and knees and began slowly picking at the apple core sitting on the plate, savouring each taste for as long as it would linger.
Mother Diane and sister Matilda sat in the grand, polished kitchen, eating a breakfast of eggs, bacon, beans and toast. As the skinny, malnourished African boy stepped out of his gloomy cupboard and into the bright, clean living room, he stood standing until his eyes adjusted to the light. Once they were adapted, he continued into the kitchen, to greet his family. “Good morning have mother and sister,” he said as he walked. “How is of you?”
“I’m full,” said Matilda, ignoring her brother and pushing the plate of half-eaten eggs and bacon away from her.
“Eat your food, young lady,” Diane replied. “There are starving kids in Africa who could eat that.”
Matilda rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. Her long blonde hair fell down over her white-skinned shoulders, left bare by her pink One Direction singlet. “Fine,” said her mother. “If you’re not going to eat it, give it to the dog. And hurry up, or you’ll be late for school.” She then turned to the short boy with the visible ribs and the dirty loincloth. “Fen, shouldn’t you be out in the field by now?”
Fen yang headed out the sliding door and into the backyard. Bare-footed, he walked out into the rice fields and began harvesting the crop. With a burning sun above, thick mud below and a pained stomach inside him, Fen yang struggled to survive the gruelling nine hours of work.
With the sun finally set, Fen yang was allowed to abandon the patty fields and return to his cupboard inside the house. He lay down on the stiff, splintery bed frame and wrapped himself in the torn blanket he had been given on his eighth birthday, last year. As the cold hit, and the hunger intensified like never before, Fen yang even struggled to cry himself to sleep.
A dark-skinned woman in a glowing white dress stood in a field of tall green grass, smiling at Fen yang. The starry sky above illuminated the meadow, causing the moist grass tips to shine like fairies, swaying in the wind. Fen yang ran towards the woman, tears in his eyes, as she slowly disintegrated into ash. Roaring fires rose through the field around them. His skinny legs stopped Fen yang from reaching the woman in time.
Diane and Matilda stood in the cupboard, above Fen yang’s starved, skeletal corpse, crying. “There’s nothing we could have done to prevent this,” Diane said to reassure her daughter, and herself.

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