A Four-Month-Old Child That Does Follow Movement With His Eyes Voyage of the Confucius Priest (Flash Historical Fiction)

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Voyage of the Confucius Priest (Flash Historical Fiction)

voyage

One hour after dark, when seven young men not more than nineteen years old (including young Confucius, a monk, and Yang, broad-shouldered, slender-eyed, about five feet eight inches, one-hundred and forty pounds, deep short-colored hair, dark eyes, flat stomach, short neck, round chin, straight nose, and skin more bronzed than fair) squatted down, each holding a thin blanket, Yang and another with a lighted lantern. (It was Saturday night, and they had just finished praying in the temple when they heard the footsteps of the night watchman passing by, watched from the temple window as he climbed the ladder, inspected the roof of the house, and then they never saw him again , So, the other six people poured some rice wine for themselves, drank it quickly, and calmed down their hearts, Yang took out a coin from his pocket, the wooden floor under his feet made a crackling sound, moved them, interrupt The other six young men, “Three minutes,” said a voice, “then the guard will rest for ten minutes,” the break he was allowed to use for eating, “let’s go,” the voice continued.

As a result, all seven were forced to wait as they silently relinquished Chinese ownership of them, and then they went up some stairs to a trapdoor leading to the roof of the temple, climbed up its edge, and descended to Under the city wall, they squatted against the wall, there was no sound except for the steady movement of their feet, and they walked towards the Yangtze River. In a boat called “The Garbage,” they sailed, and ten hours later—suddenly—the seven men reappeared for the first time after disappearing, and the captain poured water on the stinking seven men, to wash them, buckets of cold water eleven moon water. The owner just looked at them as if he’d never seen them, more than that, as if once they were gone he didn’t want to remember them anymore.

They had no money to speak of (especially tolls), so the payment was to allow the owner to sell them into slavery.

From the belly of the junk ship below, these people themselves cannot hear or hear what is happening on the upper level, the only other level of the ship, so nothing has changed inside the junk ship, dirtier than a fox hole, and dark Same, though not as harsh and punishing as what they have seen in previous lives. A cheap imitation of freedom, packed in the jacket of the designated man in charge of providence, fortress, temple, life as a slave could not be worse.

Squatting on the bottom of the boat, under the galley above (this is 1869, Young is now 19, odd numbered years, all the young people are beaten and forgotten, what’s the difference – so they think – belongs to Buenos Argentina Lowest bidders in Sierras (via Ushuaia), the next boat will take them there, just a candidate for freedom one day, that’s what they hope for, a chance, in a dictatorship Out of the country dotted with thieves, away from behind fences they cannot walk, from bridges they cannot cross, from the sides they are barred from approaching, they are but withered leaves – ready to be sued by the rich, empowered, warned: No head to plead and cry for them.)

There they are, just squatting (thinking about their bondage, the voyage, what they’ve been through, the escape itself comes back to their minds, the legacy of liberty, what Young gave them, passed on to them, what they’ll all be in soon Forgot for a long time, but for some it reappears), not doing nothing, not doing anything, but thinking, no one bothered them until the boat stopped and they boarded took a second ship, and then, they sailed for nearly a month at sea, and there was another blessing: so they awoke from their sleep, on a floor thick with straw, to use as their living quarters, where they ate where they drank from buckets, each had a blanket, and there was a lantern between them, and it was Sunday morning—all their dreams and all their thoughts were gone.

to bequeathers

(Remember when you are on board and when you are about to disembark)

The night watchmen hadn’t finished their supper yet, Yang and his entourage, comrades all left, but they left so fast that morning that it affected the entire temple site, as well as the nearby villages, most of which were known to be in Around three o’clock in the afternoon, all by sunset, every entrance and impoverished village knew that the district knew that the young priest, the future priest of the king, was gone and out of sight.

The officials just have to wait (so they think) and he will come back, so wait until the moment of delivery, so they claim. He fled mainly because he feared for his life because he was exposed as a heretic, what he preached was not the true side of religion, and his buildings were filled with blasphemous figures.

Some among his followers asked: “What did he see, when he stood and gazed so many nights from the windows of his temple…?”

It is said that he saw the future, in the near future, a vision appeared before him, soldiers came to destroy temples, idols, tear up tapestries, he saw a new China rising, and he knew he would run away lest he be tortured and killed ( So he sat on the bottom of the boat and dreamed again, dreaming that he was going down the Yangtze River, bound for Shanghai, boarded another boat, and took them out of China and into the waters of the Pacific Ocean).

Looking out of the window of the temple, he heard a voice; it even seemed to smile while weeping: “Trust not man, but make him trust you, he is capricious, for you will soon be in the waves, God The fugitive, he still exists, is the process most people, the attachment to riches, suck the juice out of the soul of the seeker—whether poet, priest, or philosopher—like a succulent plant, once its The living matter was gone, and they left it to rot.

“The good ruler does not fight against his fellow men, nor punish his fellow men, as if they were a common enemy, and they were punished for lack of opportunity: he, the bad ruler, is responsible, and thus sets a trap for his people .”

(He thought a lot during those hours and days at sea.) It was in China, and he saw the influx of tourists from India and Europe, the influx of Buddhist monks, and missionaries teaching Zoroastrianism Moralism, Christianity, however, Yang is still Confucianism. And with his disciples Li, Ming, He, etc., he watched the big white star outside the window and read Confucius’ books by candlelight at night.

Before leaving, he wrote on the temple wall: “How many times China has to die and be reborn to find order and peace, because now all she offers is chaos and uses dictatorship to balance itself.”

Computing costs

argentina and farm

(Yang was sold to the Peñaloza family of Buenos Aires in 1870, so he inherited their name and got a name based on the Latin American pronunciation, which is now Manuel Peñaloza—the year was 1870 1888. Due to troubles and conflicts, the Peñaloza family went into politics, their son was killed for their faith, the head of the Peñaloza family was superstitious, believing that Manuel brought them bad luck, and he was released in 1888: thereafter married Nieves, 1889 )

Yang (now Manuel Peñaloza) and his wife Nieves, two people who work on a farm outside the city, are barely able to support themselves, and most likely don’t earn much beyond board and lodging, and the family is trying to live on the farm as well. They are poor people, therefore, a couple without children, one middle-aged, two unfortunates, pulled together as a last resort, living in a hut here, more like a kind of shed, clinging to life tightly, in a On a farm strewn with a hundred acres of corn, unbelievable to say the least, with heartbreaking labor, he begins to admit that this life will not reward his sweat but only eat his flesh, a man who once The man known as the Priest of the Young King of the Temple, a hero to his followers, walked alone and alone for a long time, but he still left a magnificent shadow of a giant.

But they still lived here, nearly two years, chopping wood, hoeing the hard sloping ground, planting corn, resting on Sunday afternoons, wearing his clean but faded trousers; for which they thanked God for their strong hearts. This was the time he learned about Christianity, examined the teachings, read the Gospels, memorized the Ten Commandments, and he learned Spanish during his enslavement, perhaps better than the average college-educated Argentinian. So watch people preach the Word of God and then disobey them and then he’s gone, that’s 1891.

murder meat

(Manuel’s wife gave birth to a boy named Fidel in 1891) (The boy grew a few inches shorter than his father and grew a thin goatee at an early age. He started carpentry, and in 1915, They both moved to Lima, Peru, where he married Juana in 1919 (he met her in Huancayo, Peru, where he bought land and stayed there for a long time before moving back to Lima ).

And so Manuel and his wife took their grown son Fidel to Lima, Peru in 1915, prayed for them the night before, and told Nieves: This is the last trip, now, at sixty-five, because Every trip is a battle in itself.

“What,” said his wife, and once in Lima he said something to himself,

“It took me sixty-five years to get to where I might find freedom, I still have my Confucian roots, I’m Christian now, it’s almost Christmas, we’ve come a long way, it’s time to stop and find work , “But what he didn’t say, but what he wanted to say, maybe: I really only know how to preach, and although he has done a few other things in his life journey, he ended up making no deals, and no one except The money he needs to support his family, in order to avoid meat rot, he pursues his ideals, finds words, and finally only has a coin in his pocket, but he feeds his family. When he was younger, he thought differently, his goals were different, but shortly after the voyage, everything changed and now in Lima, after a long journey, he only knows what is right and what is wrong, What is evil, that’s what he knew before he left China, what he taught his son, what he repeated over and over again, how a man kills his own flesh.

(Fidel was born to Augusto Peñaloza in 1921 and his daughter Christina in 1923. Fidel died in 1971. Minerva and Rosa were born to Augusto’s wife Maria in 1957 (Maria died in 2001); 1959; Minerva, born in 1993 Ximena, 2007, family members discover they are part ChineseJ)

Note: Taken from real events. Names and dates as true as possible; part historical fiction; based on notes taken by the author during a conversation with Augusto Peñaloza on October 4, 2008 at the cafe “Mia Mamma” in El Tambo, Huancayo, Peru. Copyright © 2008, Dennis L. Siluk

The Voyage, and Proceeding History, written, October 4, 2008; Escape, Vision, Interlude, written 10-6-2008; Tillage, Tillage II and Christ, the Encounter of the Killer, written October 8, 2008 morning.

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