Sorrow Of Lan.

For English, we had to write a creative response to a certain part in the book 'Sorrow Of War', by Bao Ninh. 'Sorrow Of War' is a book about life during the Vietnamese war, written by one of the ten Vietnamese survivors. Only ten out of 500 Vietnamese warriors survived and Bao Ninh was one of them. The book is written in the third perspective, from the point of view of Kien, who is a commander in the Missing In Action (MIA) team. It is not a light book and certainly not easy to understand, considering it are mainly flashbacks that one reads and flashbacks don't ever come in chronological order. This book is not written in chronological order, which emphasises the chaos during (and after) this terrible war. I strongly recommend anyone to read this book, even if it is only because of Ninh's amazing writing style or the story (for the diehard lovebirds: the story is not about war, but about the effects of war; the war is merely a setting. The real story is about love!).
Here is my creative response,- it's a certain chapter from the book I picked to write from a different point of view. As I said, it was originally written from Kien's point of view and now I wrote it from Lan's point of view. Even if you haven't read the book, you will understand this piece. I got a tres good grade for it :)

(No title, so let's just call it 'Sorrow Of Lan' for now, haha)

Opening the door, Lan looked into the eyes of a man she no longer knew. For a moment, the two remained silent, but then Lan recognised the tall, handsome stranger. His once so young, unblemished face held a more serious look now, scarred by the long days of war. Even in his eyes she could see that the man at the door had aged and, indeed, gravely changed. He was no longer the boy she knew from the old days which seemed further and further away whenever memories drifted up in her mind.
"Sorrowful Spirit," she whispered.

The name that could only be called by recognition, belonged to Kien, the commander of the Mission In Action team who had settled at Doi Mo with two other soldiers in his younger years. She saw confusion in his eyes and chuckled and shrugged nervously: "When you settled here, I was only thirteen years young." Lan paused and thought of what had been when Kien and the other soldiers had settled at her house. "And the girls of this region have always been reserved and unattractive," she added softly, sadly. She felt her muscles tense up, but instead of seeing the expected look of disapproval in Kien's eyes, she saw something that she would have placed as admiration, if not pleasant surprise. Lan knew that she, of course, had changed too. Her body was now full-grown and all her childish features had disappeared with the long, long days of war.

"Of all the people that have been here, only you have returned, Kien. My brothers, classmates and my husband, too, were all younger than you, and joined up many years later than you. But none of them has returned, just you." However intrigued with Kien's altered appearances, Lan could not look athim anymore. The scars on his face were too familiar...

After Lan paid tribute to her mother with Kien, night had begun to settle upon the village. The late afternoon sun stretched her last tingly rays out over the long grass, like children stretching their arms when they yawn after having just woken up.
"You're the only one that came back. Don't go, don't... Leave me alone." Lan paused, still not looking at Kien. "Will you please stay with me for the night?" As Lan asked Kien to stay, her eyes carefully travelled from his feet to his eyes again. He looked at her and then nodded resolutely.

The night seemed short, to both of them. Especially Lan felt pleasantly surprised by how gentle Kien was with her after she had approached him. Firstly, he had seemed cautious, careful. She wasn't sure if he had wanted to make love with her, but when she had wanted to leave his room, he said one of the few sentences during his whole stay: "Please, stay. You look beautiful."
She had turned around and lied down on the bed. They did not speak; they did not need words. All the noticeable sound, besides the sound of their breaths and bodies moving, came from the night-birds from the edge of the forest and the far away rippling of the slow stream in the hamlet of Doi Mo. Time seemed to pass by too slowly at the time, but when all was over, night seemed to have passed too briefly.

Early in the morning, Lan walked Kien through the long grass, wet with dew. For the last time, she would see someone, Kien, leaving. Not able to find words that could possibly describe her state, Lan ended up saying: "Live peacefully, my dear. Try not to be sad, and try no to think poorly of me. And one other small favour: if you come to the end of your wandering and seem to have no place left to go and no one to turn to, remember you have a place here with me, always. You have a home and a woman. A friend. You started this war in Doi Mo and you returned. You can return again, once more." Kien let her trace the lines of his strong, broad shoulders and touch his graying hair, as she talked. When finished, he nodded silently and hardly noticeably. He looked into her tearing eyes and hugged her. Lan could feel his heart beating against hers, or was it hers against his? She placed her face in the curve of his neck and said, with a muffled voice: "Please, please go now. I shall never forget you. Please, don't forget me, not completely. This love comes so unexpected..."

Lan's grip loosened and so did Kien's. "Please, go now," she repeated quietly. And he did. It was up to Lan to wait once again, endlessly, for someone that might never return. The tears that had wet her eyes, now wet her face as well, as they fell out of her eyes and were gushing over her cheeks. Lan watched Kien walk away, she watched him slow down and slightly turn around once, as if hesitating to come back. Then, he turned around and walked on. She stayed in front of her house, on the edge of the grass field. She stayed until the tears stopped coming and then walked back home, through the wet grass, with a face still wet from crying. When she passed the tombstones of her mother and son, she stood still for a brief moment, to wipe the salt off her cheeks. She looked at the tombstone of her son and then up at the sky, that was starting to brighten up. She smiled.