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through the eyes of the imperfect


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This community is like a resemblance of the Stepford Community. Everyone is alike, perfect

(in their own minds). Wives home at all times, fathers working all the time. Differences arent welcomely accepted, more or less feared. with much dread my parents moved us out here into this gated hell.

Moving along through these houses people watched us come in, and in proper neighborly fashion they came over and welcomed us, friendly at first. Only at first... Then with that look of dawning reconization, Their attitudes were like wet clothes. once they found out, they shed these attitudes and changed into new ones, much more volatile attitudes. the rich boys shunned me, the girls walked by as if my existance didnt matter. it just wasnt right or fair, but yet, these peopel thougth they were the ones who made the decisions. within these gates and within that school.. they did..

Chapter 1.

My dad came home one day and told us we had to move, we couldnt stay here anymore. Here atleast, we were happy. but dad wouldnt tell me why it wasnt perfect. i was mad. he was mad. my mother was lost in unknowing and to confused to make an attempt to try to understand. My dad was a man of conviction, and once he was set in his ways he was unchangeable. His dark eyes once humorous and full of understandign where now dark, scared and had bags underneath of them. One day i asked him about his job. That set him off. ive never seen him so angry before. he wouldnt talk about it at all. he wouldnt let us turn on the t.v. or read the paper.

Eventually rumors got around and i began to formulate ideas. I asked my dad about them. Instead of the anger he usually felt nowadays he just looked at me full of remorse and instrantly became choked up.

My questions were "Father, why must we leave.. is it because of the war.. Because our government is calling you and your coworkers... traitors to the Great Ruler?

Chapter 2.

My dad looked at me with such hatred of the word. My dad was a loving patriot of his country. He never once thought even a traiterous thought. My dad worked fo he government and the Great Ruler. He headed up a branch of service that was hush-hush, but yet everyone knew. my dad had a Secret Clearence card. i know because i found it while looking through his stuff for the baeballglove he took away from me. and now from people of the community, i heard more of his details of his job. He was a chief of security for our NATION! no wonder he never talked about his job.. it was secret. he wasnt exactly the man he said he was.. to his family and friends he was just a regular desk jocky who made a good pay rate at a government desk job. isntead he handled foreign government affairs, internal affairs and defense of the coutnry. and now, the Great Ruler is blaming my dad and he employees of him for what is happening to our country. Its a good thing we lef home with the few items we could grab befo outrage reached everyone..

  Here in America now, we were just like any other immigrant, comign through the gate, answering questions, checking out our english skills, background and passports. My dad was detained 6 hours in another room seperate from me and mom. After what felt liek an enternity, he came back out and we left. Dad said he had friends out here that located a house for us. we set off for the drive to West Virginia from Philadelphia.

  Things would never be the same for me, no amount of forgetting will ever be enough.

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Chapter 3.

  School was fine at first. and then the news started spreading out "feeds" as they cal them on news from the home country. slowly people drifted apart. After 2 months, things came to a head. a brutally sharp head. Friends drifted away from me, even teachers seemed to not even care of my existence. The administrative staff showed respect, of course forced by law less a law suit. in my 16 years of life i have never once felt so miserable. It was as if i was alone. sure i had some friends, but having moved, made friends and had them disappear in the blink of an eye hurts ones pride like searing brick of charcoal on the heart. I was a walking quarantined disease in these peoples eyes. even more painful, i couldn't understand or grasp the situation. sure i saw the news and the reporting, but the point i couldn't grasp was my father. He grew thinner, hair grayer, his eyes baggy and puffy, red at all times.

            -2 days before-

  I sat down after a night out with my friends in my room watching t.v. My friend Taylor was with me, and he just laid stretched out on the floor. I flipped through the channels i heard North Korea's facing multinational heat for intense war crimes against those around them and on its own citizens.


  "thats where your fro..." taylor started to say, his face perplexed

  "Shush!" i immediatly silenced him and raised the volume of the t.v. as the story came up. with dread on my face, i watched as the reason we fled those months ago flashed on the screen.

  My countrymen, was reportedly in on a top-secret Project acting independently from the Great Ruler Tang.  It was reported that my fathers employees, with the help of his science team and funding by a secret source developed and unleashed a new strand of small pox, in North Korean shipments, poisoning its own citizens, as claimed by the news, on accident, but mostly neighboring nations which North Korea had hostility with.

  Few were named as guilty parties, and my dad had his name listed as rung clear but never the less mentioned due to his job title, but still a name mentioned is a name hated.

  Chapter 4.

            -5 months later-

  The great Conference of the U.N. of 1968 met and the trial began. My country shamed our heritage name, and as the public majority of America is, all Koreans/ Asians were biased as diseased, or in on the plot. Racial Tensions raced high. But each side had its own people. Us, the Kulkwans.. we had ourselves and the various other families here or in North Korea to back us. Hated by all, loved by none. Bricks were smashed in through windows, car tires flattened, sayings such as go home gook sprayed on the walls. Hate is a terrible thing to befall anyone, especially just because of race. 2 miles from our New York hom an asian girl my age was beaten severely by a group of men just because of her nationality. I never felt safe outside the house, and since we were in such a huge predicament, President Eli Backman gave us solace in the form of Secret Service agents to guard us as we went. we recieved massive threats because of my dads title, and the fact he was declared a traitor to his own nation by the Great Ruler of Korea, Tsung Ting. My father was said to have betrayed the nation, but he was cleared by a few brave co-workers stepped forward with proper evidence to clear his name, but before all truth could come out, these brave men and women, disappeared. assassinated. Heat dwelled on North Korea and soon, they took it a step further, breaking off all terms of nuetrality with the U.N. and other nations. They invaded South Korea and China, while both countries were losing numbers due to the disease.

  Soon, those with North Korean ancestry, or those who even looked as such, were no longer considered people to the eyes of the American race. We were as good as rabid animals facing euthanasia to them. We were spat on, assaulted, killed. we knew we had to move some where less violent. but where to. where can you go when there is no where you are wanted?

  These kinds of questions should never be asked by a 16 year old, and yet, by hate, they must be though in my mind.

Chapter 6.

  -One year later-

We relocated away from the gated community, the big houses, expensive cars. we moved to a slummier,  more broke down place. but at least, we were safer. things weren't the same as when we first got here in America, but they somewhat better. Sure hateful things were said, sneers given, hand gestures flipped at random. but violence became a rarity for my family as we moved here. We were the only North Koreans here. but more people here were tolerable of us. So we thought.

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  On a quite night, my mother father and i were sitting in the living room watching T.V. as a window smashed. we all instinctively ducked, but their was something not right. there were other windows break, and holes popped in the wall. due to the fear and shock, it took a second to click in. Gunfire. I was gunfire! suddenly the same noise came from the back of the house. the only other exit. except for the basement. suddenly it was quite. reload time. my dad harshly whispered for us to make a move to the basement, him being the man of the family he bravely peaked out from behind cover and opened the door and beckoned for us to come, i shoved mother ahead and she ran down the stairs after grabbing the phone. as it was my turn i came at a run and 2 bullets pierced my leg and ribs as torches were thrown into the house. suddenly there was shooting from the basement. MOTHER! she was down there. sirens sounded in the distance and running footsteps could be heard, cars starting and tearing off. as i lay on the floor, flames spreading through the house i gasped in sharp breaths of oxygen which was mixed by thick smoke. father lay on the floor beside me, unconscious and barely breathing. i passed out.

Chapter 7.

  I awoke to two officers standing over my gasping father as he begged for help. they radioed in the call for an ambulance, and the other other officer stared in disbelieve as he said "this is the 15th shoot and burn against Asians tonight. have these people no remorse."

  "Oh who cares about the gooks. Disease ridden bastards. i dont even want to breathe around these... these things." and with that he nailed a sharp kick to my fathers ribs. and with that, it appeared my fathers hope broke, the rasping pleading voice ended. it wasnt just that kick, up from the basement came a firefighter carrying my mother. limp in his arms.

  i wanted to speak, to tel what that officer had done, but i was unable to speak, i had to save the precious oxygen i could get in. His partner became my voice, declaring his disliking of the action and spouted off about rules and regulations and fairness and unbiased behavior. Unbiased. in this country? it seems like the word is a foul word, used as a pleasantry but secretly disobeyed. The firefighter looked ashamed but remained quite. i blacked out again.

Chapter 7

  I awoke as i was being loaded into the back of the ambulance and heard men arguing. The bad cop who kicked father stood in the good cops face as the good guy tried to complain to a higher ranked officer, but the man, just shook bad cops hand and said "Hm. no witness Chang, and Harrison is a good cop. no reason to believe a rookie, never the less one trying to lie for his own disgusting people against a veteran whose never had a complaint."

  "Because those he abuses fears him! im tired of this! He bullies me and the other asians and we cant say anything due to this god damn station of yours! AMEND HIS ACTIONS!"

  No such thing was done and good cop threw his badge on the floor and walked off.

  Heartbreaking words rang out

"the mother was dead sir, but the father wasn't. i fixed it though. the kid, he was unconscious, but i couldnt get him becaus EMT's came through the door. All in all, Clarke did a good job hm sir? Busted him for Mafia related activities, but let him out provided he left me a favor."

"damn fine job Harrison. One less family of them here."


My parents.. gone. and why.. corrupt officers hating us for no reason.. tired of protecting us. my vision blackened and faded as the doors slammed shut.

-Chapter 8-

Why does god hate us so? why must we endured this pain, this unfair burden. i have done no thing wrong enough to deserve this. A test of Faith? well any an all faith in humanity and god is gone as i lay in this bed with tubes attached to me. I cant even trust the police, teachers, firemen anyone. those who are supposed to be heroes.. destroyed me. destroyed my family. destroyed all i believe in, except one thing. that one thing. Hatred. all to clear to me now, Hatred is what is left. its what makes people go. if theres no hatred in the world what would people do. i believe people want hatred. theres no reason to believe in it. It takes voluntary belief to thrive, to live, to take affect.

I know im dying in this hospital bed though the staff is trying to keep me upbeat, but i cant be, how do i know? how do i know if they dont secretly hate me, waiting to strike, maybe the next social worker who cames in will hate me, try to kill me, or maybe sell my adoption papers. my mind cant take this stress anymore. and these wounds. their fatal i can feel it. each throb screams "HATE KILLED YOU" and it echoes in my mind this minute.

i lay hear and write these final memoirs three days after the incident. i am not better, far off worse. i think one of the wounds is infected. i cant tell and im afraid to ask. Chang asked me to write about my ordeals, and the incident as proof as he sues the police precinct, and to depict my ordeals. im doing it to try and have some justice prevail through Chang's case. my writing is becoming more slack and im lsoing vision. i know the end is hear.

The doctor might write down cause of death being bullet hole wounds, but in my mind, i know what it is. i can hear it as the heart monitor alarm rings as i fade away



- few months later, Chang

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