Mama started to do whatever she could think of to bring good luck back to the family. I didn’t see the witch no more, but Mama went out more than once with herbs or other stuff and nonsense to trade the old woman in exchange for an amulet or two. ’Course I never told Mama about me being the cause of the curse to start with, and as far as I know there weren’t no more talk about the ghost, but I was so tired all the time from the hunger-weakness, I don’t think I woulda cared if that baby crawled up and sat on my lap, just as long as it didn’t try to touch whatever food we scrounged, and I started missing the days when all we had was plain old fish.
Without him being able to go to work and such, Papa took to getting even more serious-like, and he was always tired. If I were to tell anyone, I woulda let Papa know it was my fault the net tore and he got his arm broke. I wouldn’t be scared of him knowing because he wasn’t one to get mad, but I couldn’t never bring myself to tell him what really happened on account of how sad I figured it’d make him.
So anyway, Papa and Mama and the other adults in our village, they were all talking about the rains and how we’d all take to starving soon if we didn’t get some, and I remember wondering how a boy could starve any more than I was already doing, which just goes to show we hadn’t got to near the worst of the famine yet in those days.
The "Twelve Days of Woong" series includes short snippets from my upcoming novel, Flower Swallow. Get your pre-publication copy NOW when you donate to Liberty in North Korea or read it free on Wattpad.