Read every voice.

When I look back at the day Lei and Feng had acted differently, I should’ve been more suspicious. When she made me collect the chicken eggs myself, even though Ma Ma had already told her to collect them since her fingers were sturdier—so we wouldn’t lose any more eggs to my greasy, buttery hands. But little, naive 9-year-old me didn’t care. I was too eager, too impatient. I should’ve known better that day, I should’ve. And I could’ve avoided all the trouble it had brought me. “Yunyun! Could you fetch the chicken eggs for me?” Lei trilled as she bounced up the well-worn stairs leading to our farmhouse. I poked my head out from behind the barn, frowning, “Didn’t Ma Ma say that you had to collect them?” “Noo—” she dragged out the sound, “She didn’t say that I couldn’t make you do it instead.” Before I could say anything back, she disappeared into the doorway. I huffed, muttering to myself, “Can’t you do anything yourself?” I trudged over to the coop with my too-big wellies. Picking up the delicate, browned eggs from the fresh straw caused a commotion from the chickens, but it was satisfying. One. Two. Three . . . four and five. We would have two for my parents to take to the market tonight with some to split in the morning. Turning around to face the chicken, I dipped into a bow, “Xiexie, thank you for your contribution,” It was a habit I had gotten into when I collected the eggs before Ma Ma had instructed Lei to pick them up herself. The lantern flickered on the way back to the house, and in the faraway village, I could see pinpricks of light bobbing around. My town, the little village of Qingting, hosted a monthly memory market tonight. My father had told me that people from other places, other countries even, flocked to our memory market. There was something about it, a difference that nobody could replicate—some said it was the location of our town, for it was next to the crashing waves of the sea; others said that it was the mofa, or magic. My mother was silhouetted in the window, mixing her herbs and baking treats. My father was in the barn, carving out trinkets and charming the watches so many of the foreigners adored. The air was alive with magic, a humming you could feel in your bones, accompanied by a lingering scent of lavender and the sea—my spirit scent. Even the animals were excited, our dog, Vixen, who pricked up his ears, as if listening to the moon whisper. Before I started skipping up the steps to the house, something flickered in the shadows; a flash of red, just a hint. I narrowed my eyes, slipping into the bushes and sliding away from the ray of light slicing across the yard. “Feng! Get over here!” Another flash of red. Ducking down into the shadows before my sister, Lei, could possibly see me, I watched their conversation unravel. “Okay, okay, no need to rush. We have enough time before Ba Ba leaves to town,” My brother’s wiry frame appeared in the bushes, veiled by the darkness. Where are they going? Thoughts raced through my head, wanting to know what my siblings were up to now. Isn’t there a memory market today? And don’t they know that they can’t go either way? My parents had established a rule when we got old enough to inquire about the memory market. Until we were 15, we weren’t allowed to visit the market, with or without them. Perhaps it was the unknown of the people that visited the memory market, or because of the mofa everywhere. Whatever it was, Ba Ba and Ma Ma never let us go, and no pleading nor begging would budge their final decision. “Feng, do you have the extra lantern, coins, and silk sack?” Lei’s voice cut through my thoughts, drawing me back to the present. “Of course I do,” Even though I couldn’t see his face, the annoyance in my brother’s comment was clear. He was known as the reliable one in our family, always steady, and never the one to forget nor let others down. “Okay then, the sooner we get on the wagon the better.” My sister, on the other hand, was the bold one, never missed an opportunity to prove herself or sneak off in the night undetected. Oh wait. That’s what they were doing right now. Her personality was almost the opposite of mine, and I didn’t like the way she bossed everybody around. I placed down the basket of chicken eggs I was clutching on a stone nearby. I can take these back home later. But first, I want to, no, need to see where Lei and Feng are going. Sneaking through the shadows and mimicking my siblings’ actions was a common occurrence, to the annoyance of my siblings. I was the quiet one; obedient, meek, oblivious to their actions—or so they thought. My sister poked her head out of the bushes, beckoning to Feng as she ran to the wagon, which was right next to the road to town. Following along, I spotted them scrambling onto the wagon, disappearing behind the numerous goods that Ba Ba had created for the market. Hoisting myself up, Lei’s voice startled me as I stepped into the cart. “Yun?! Why are you here?” My sister stared accusingly at me behind a crate of wind chimes, Feng emerging behind her a moment later. “I saw you sneaking out and meeting Feng, what’s your problem with that?” I narrowed my eyes, returning her glare. Rumble, rumble. The weathered wood shook beneath me, then lurching into motion, ambling onto the road. My sister threw her hands up in frustration, “Fine, you can stay, but only because you hitched a ride with us before we could get you off.” Feng cleared his throat, “Yun, if you want to stay with us on this trip, you have to be quiet on the wagon and always listen to us,” his face was stern, “We have to make sure we stick together.” I nodded mutely, excited by another prospect of heading into town, “Yeah sure, I promise.” All I could think about were the foods that I could try again. I didn’t know the trouble I was diving headfirst into. The wagon was passing into town, and from behind the crates of goods I was crouching behind, I could hear the chatter of languages mixing together, smell the spices and lavender floating in the air, and see bright lights above. The wagon rumbled to a stop near the middle of the market. I stretched out my cramped legs and jumped off the wagon. Stopping in an alley, I waited for Lei and Feng to catch up. My sister pulled out a map and the spare lantern, flattening it onto the brick wall—just above my line of sight. “We’ll have two hours to explore. I think we should go to the food section first,” I craned my neck to see where she was pointing at, “And then we’ll head to the memory maze and check out the activities over there, and after about thirty minutes there, we can start heading back, leaving us enough time to get on the wagon.” She grinned, already anticipating the fun and food, “Let’s go!” Lei rolled up the map hastily and took off and out of the alley. Bursting out of the passageway was like stepping out into a dream. Everywhere I looked, flaring wisps of light hung—the eaves of balconies, market stalls, on statues and fountains. The town was alight with well, light. But the most mesmerizing aspect of the market were the containers of memories drifting in the air. They were all special in their own distinct ways, with different colors and shapes, haloes and patterns. After a long time of tasting, testing, and trying numerous foods, plus buying knicknacks, we ran over to the memory maze. It was the icon of the market. Shining, red letters were written on the blue entrance. ‘Beware,’ it warned, ‘Memories here are volatile, enter at your own risk.’ Despite the clear caution sign etched onto the maze, there was a steady trickle of people entering it; but barely any exiting. We sat at the edge of a fountain with shining lights beaming out of the dragonfly-themed statue dripping running water off of its wings. The enveloping darkness silhouetted us against the looming namesake of our village. Lei was tapping her chin thoughtfully, malice intent in her eyes, “Hey Yun?” She shot a grin at me. I whipped my head around from the sugar skewer I was eating, surprised by her sudden friendliness, “What?” “Do you think you could make your way out of the memory maze?” “Definitely,” I mumbled around my tasty treat, “Why are you asking?” “Could you show us how it’s done then?” My sister’s eyes glinted in the orange light of a nearby memory jar. “Do you mean that—” Lei cut me off, “Yes, maybe you could demonstrate it to us?” I hesitated, “Didn’t you say that we weren’t going to go in the maze?” “Wait—” Feng tried to protest, realizing the gravity of the situation. “No, you actually promised us that you would listen to us and do everything we told you to.” “Fine,” Relenting, I started to stand up and made my way to the brightly lit entrance of the maze, thinking that it wouldn’t be that difficult to complete. It’s just a maze. I’ll be fine. I tried to persuade myself as I gazed at the swirling, blue opening, inching there slowly. I took a deep breath, closing my eyes, gathering my worries, I stepped into the threshold, letting the mofa sweep me away. The first thing I felt—no smelled, was Ma Ma’s homegrown lavender, plus a faint hint of the sea. Mofa, this place is just pure mofa. I thought. Opening my eyes, I was overwhelmed by a wave of divergent feelings, something unlike I felt before. I will do this, I will prove Lei wrong. I can do this. Turning in a full circle, I saw that it looked like I was in a memory cache—a place in your head where memories dwelled, or a library of recollection. Mine was a crowded hallway with smaller corridors branching out at random places. There were boxes and shelves pulsing with colored light and rippling with shadows of the past. A few of the crates were lopsided and out of place—gaps in my thoughts, I could just feel the wrongness of them. I could also feel small tugs, like threads drawing me away. Looking down for the first time, I spotted translucent threads protruding from my body. I shrieked, my voice echoing through the passageway, “Gah! What are these?!” My hands frantically grasped at the strings pulling at me, but I was unable to touch them, my fingers passing through what seemed like illusions. The tugging grew stronger, the itchy feeling of tugging on my body slowly transitioning to a stinging feeling that felt like my hair was being pulled out. “Follow them,” A mysterious voice rippled through the corridor. Desperately, I started running my fingers through shelves and shelves of memory crates, my knees quaking from the strain. I can’t stay here forever or I’ll be torn apart by the different memory threads. I realized. But I have to stay calm and find a way out, I can’t let my memories sweep me away from the present. Pausing at a few of the containers, I always moved forward, further and further down the hallway, following a periwinkle thread. Suddenly, a surge of anger ran through me. Where did that come from? Bewildered, I halted in my tracks and turned around, touching the nearest canisters again. I felt another gust of irritation as I brushed a quivering jar with a deep red hue. This one. I picked up the canister, the light reflected in my eyes. Few of my memories were this angry or vexed since I hadn’t had much in my life that would provoke me. I hesitated for a moment, confusion playing across my face. Wait, why was I supposed to be here again? Shrugging, I screwed open the lid to the memory, another wave of mofa sweeping me away before I could blink. I swirled into existence in a clear bubble at the edge of my memory. My past self was on the floor in my little bedroom, little clear cylinders and brass bits scattered across the floor next to me. I had frustration clearly etched into my face, as I tried to piece together the sections, but failed. “AARGH MA MA!” My former self yelled in exasperation, brow furrowing, my face turning an ugly shade of red. I huddled in my bubble, curious but a little confused at the memory I was seeing. I don’t think I remember this? All of a sudden, Lei poked her head in, “Yun, are you okay?” “No! No I’m not. You ruined it! And I’ll never forgive you!” Mini me stomped over to the door, slamming it in front of Lei’s face. My sister tried again, “Okay, okay, I’m sorry Yun.” She offered without hesitation, ”Do you want me to help you piece together your wind chime?” I touched the bubble around me, realizing that this was the scene after Lei had accidentally smashed my beloved wind chime—it was painted periwinkle with delicate brass birds and glowing glass beads; my grandmother had bought it for my 5th birthday. I cherished it with my heart, at least until Lei broke it. My memory self screamed at her, looking like she was going to fling something at Lei’s face, “NO! It’s your fault.” Lei’s face became a steely mask, “Fine, if you don’t want my help, I won’t want yours when I need it.” As the mofa breeze started sweeping me away, I caught the last wisp of Lei’s remorseful face when she apologized. She does care about me, it’s just buried deep underneath. The mofa brought me back to my memory cache, dumping me on the floor. The cloudy strings that clung onto me so tightly before were gone, along with the prickling sensation. I sat there for a while, staring into the captivating spikes of mood in the past memory I had just travelled into. Lei cares about me, she does. Not just because I’m a source of entertainment or something to be looked down on. The words repeated themselves over and over. A flash of blue light brought me back to the present. A swirling doorway appeared a few steps away, almost identical to the entrance to the maze, but it was shrinking slowly. I scrambled to my feet, running to the portal and stepped back into the present. My siblings were waiting for me next to the fountain across from the maze. I could tell that it had been at least an hour since Lei was mid-yawn when I exited the maze. But the moment I emerged, they jumped up—all drowsiness gone. “Yun!” Feng ran over to me, hugging me tightly and walking me over to a nearby bench. My sister sat there like a statue, a little stunned. I reached over and took her hand gently, “I’m all right now,” I looked up into her eyes. She lifted her head and whispered, “I’m sorry for making you go in there. Could you forgive me?” I fiddled with my skirt, reminded by my memory, but this time, I could accept it, “I’m okay now,” I grinned, tilting my head in understanding, “Say . . . did you guys miss the wagon waiting for me?” “Um . . . so about that,” My sister’s eyes started to sparkle with newfound mischief, “We may have to walk home now.” “That’s fine, we could even try to find a taxi-cart.” I responded, getting up and striding towards the way we had come from. And so we did. As we neared the house, our parents were silhouetted in the doorway, the lantern light flickering. “You kids are in big trouble!” My father’s voice boomed across the lawn. We grinned at each other, our parents wouldn’t be able to stop us, we were a storm in the making; one day, we’d go back to the memory market once more.

One day in summer, I wanted to go to the forest next to my house. I had never been there before, EVER. As I was about to enter the forest, it seemed like there was an object blocking my path, but nothing was there, or so it seemed. A humongous brown sign appeared, and it said, “Enchanted Forest, DO NOT ENTER.” As I was about to walk away, an ogre walked right in. I quickly followed behind it and went into the enchanted forest. I decided to take a walk in the forest. I thought 5 minutes had passed, but then the forest turned into fall. Another 5 minutes passed, and it became winter. I was LOST. I quickly found my way back, and what I thought was 10 minutes was actually 10 years.

The waves splashing on the shore just like sea in galore, all the space left between, in the ocean never to be seen. Sea stars move like colorful snails, the turtles swims in the hail, as the sky turns murky gray the ocean sees a different way. Night falls as day goes, leaving the water silent as woe, finding shelter, finding food, the ocean seems fragile to As day comes it brightens, leaving things out of frighten, lying on the sun so slow, night disovves as day beems.