ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
Vincent Chin was killed by two men June the twenty-third, nineteen eighty-two. He was bludgeoned to death by two men. They were never sentenced to jail. They live today.
"I'm no racist, I've never been racist, I've never had anything against anybody in this whole world! And with God as my witness, that's the truth."
Ah, but Ebens...why else would you kill a man?—why else would you have another hold his arms while you bludgeon him to death...why else would you chase him in the night?
Please stop laughing like that...it makes me feel sick.
"That's the first time I've ever been in a jail cell, ah...hopefully it'll be the last time I've ever been in a jail cell. That, ah...is not a good experience for anyone. Especially when there's no blankets, there's no mattress, there's no pillows, there's nothing there but a steel cot; that's what you get through the night on."
That's the first time Chen Guoren died, and his death was not the last time his mother's world was snuffed. Not a good experience for anyone...much less a mother. No boy from birth, no son, and ultimately no justice.... That's what she went through the days on, and the nights, for the rest of her life.
"Being in jail, and, uh...knowing next day was Father's Day."
With a son dead, who would never know a single Father's Day. No children to have.
"Well, to be quite honest, I expected to go to jail."
"...parading Mrs. Chin around the country or whatever."
"I personally think that a lot of them used it as their own vehicle just to get ahead, uh...ah. Secondly—secondly, they used it—they used it to, ah, promote the, ah...Asian-American, and...and the, uh...their alleged plight in this country—which, I am not aware of, that they have a plight, 'cause I a—I know very few Asians. Very few."
You see what you want to see.
You see the train and not the tracks. Thusly.
Because you killed a man, whether or not it was over race. Because you cannot deny that you killed, because you walked away even after you killed. Because you killed a man of a foreign race, two of you against one, you the privileged white against the yellow peril.
Because you killed a man and walked away. Because he is dead and you are not. Because he is free in a place far away, and you are free where you are.
You killed a man.
You show no remorse.
And they are angered, and after all these years they are angered, and they think you are a disgusting specimen of man, a coward who excuses himself the way a child does; a man who got away with murder. A man who had to have another hold one man while he beat him himself. Beat him to death and sit with your laughing wife so many years later.
Because a murderer walks free.
"I'm no racist, I've never been racist, I've never had anything against anybody in this whole world! And with God as my witness, that's the truth."
Ah, but Ebens...why else would you kill a man?—why else would you have another hold his arms while you bludgeon him to death...why else would you chase him in the night?
Please stop laughing like that...it makes me feel sick.
"That's the first time I've ever been in a jail cell, ah...hopefully it'll be the last time I've ever been in a jail cell. That, ah...is not a good experience for anyone. Especially when there's no blankets, there's no mattress, there's no pillows, there's nothing there but a steel cot; that's what you get through the night on."
That's the first time Chen Guoren died, and his death was not the last time his mother's world was snuffed. Not a good experience for anyone...much less a mother. No boy from birth, no son, and ultimately no justice.... That's what she went through the days on, and the nights, for the rest of her life.
"Being in jail, and, uh...knowing next day was Father's Day."
With a son dead, who would never know a single Father's Day. No children to have.
"Well, to be quite honest, I expected to go to jail."
"...parading Mrs. Chin around the country or whatever."
"I personally think that a lot of them used it as their own vehicle just to get ahead, uh...ah. Secondly—secondly, they used it—they used it to, ah, promote the, ah...Asian-American, and...and the, uh...their alleged plight in this country—which, I am not aware of, that they have a plight, 'cause I a—I know very few Asians. Very few."
You see what you want to see.
You see the train and not the tracks. Thusly.
Because you killed a man, whether or not it was over race. Because you cannot deny that you killed, because you walked away even after you killed. Because you killed a man of a foreign race, two of you against one, you the privileged white against the yellow peril.
Because you killed a man and walked away. Because he is dead and you are not. Because he is free in a place far away, and you are free where you are.
You killed a man.
You show no remorse.
And they are angered, and after all these years they are angered, and they think you are a disgusting specimen of man, a coward who excuses himself the way a child does; a man who got away with murder. A man who had to have another hold one man while he beat him himself. Beat him to death and sit with your laughing wife so many years later.
Because a murderer walks free.
Literature
A Dishonest Misunderstanding
"It's here, it's here!" I shouted excitedly, running back to the living room with my parcel clutched tightly in my hands to search frantically for a pair of scissors. My parents had promised me a smartphone for my birthday if I was good, after years of wanting one, and years of being the only kid without one, and I'd been as good as gold all year. Better than I'd ever been. My birthday had come and gone two weeks ago with nothing, but they'd promised it was in the mail, and sure enough here was a phone-sized parcel with my name on it!
Finding the scissors, I tore into the packaging with fervour and swiftly uncovered...a fisher-price smartpho
Literature
Grow again
Everything was grey. The sand, the hills, the sky. There was no life here. Or so it seemed. Because in between the dust-colored lifeless cacti, smoke was billowing from a small, concrete house. But smoke had to come from fire. And fire isn't colorless.
Fire can't be colorless. Moreover, to make fire you'd need wood or another flammable material, and there was none to be found outside the City.
The door of the house opened and a woman walked out. She was tall, with long ash-blonde hair held back in a ponytail, and she wore a denim overall and grey boots. Whether they were actually grey or if it was the dust that had made them so, was unclear
Literature
epitafio
nunca pensé, que al final de todo esfuerzo, mi oficio fuera el de escribir epitafios.
Suggested Collections
Featured in Groups
Haven't put up a piece of writing in a while.
I've known about Chen Guoren -- that's Vincent Chin -- for some time...how his murderers got away with their crime. The role the incident played in the Asian-American community.
The other day, I attended a party for Chinese and sinophilic artists. I met the director of "Who Killed Vincent Chin?" And, intrigued, I watched snips of the documentary. I saw the interview with Ronald Ebens. I was more than a little disgusted with what greeted me.
I tried to stay unbiased in this piece, in a way that was presented in "To Kill A Mockingbird" -- reasonable, neutrally-toned. And then that melted down into indignation.
I hope I categorized this right.
~PT
(c)
© 2011 - 2024 PTDaHood
Comments0
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In