Echoes of the White Giraffe by Sook Nyul Choi Read Free Book Online

overslept, I wondered? Was I late for choir practice? Inchun, who was reading a book, lifted his head and said teasingly, “Afraid your choir conductor will embarrass you?”
    â€œNo, I just don’t like to be late for anything. I meant to be up early.”
    I looked around, feeling that something was not quite right on the mountain. Could it have been because I had been away and had gotten used to the seashore? Perhaps I just felt strange because I had overslept. I couldn’t tell what was wrong. So, I went outside and looked over at the other mountain peak where the shouting poet always stood. I ran back in and said, “Inchun, did you hear the shouting poet this morning? I didn’t hear him. I’ve never slept through his morning wake-up call. Did he shout this morning?”
    Instead of answering me, Inchun slid down under his blanket. Then he stared intently at his science book as if he were trying to solve a very difficult question. He began to whistle while I glared at him and waited for an answer. I knew something was wrong. Inchun often teased me, but he was never rude; he never just ignored me like that. I ran to the kitchen.
    â€œMother, did you hear the shouting poet this morning?”
    She didn’t answer me either. She methodically checked the rice to see if it was done.
    â€œMother, did you hear him yesterday? Did something happen to him?”
    In silence, she wiped her hand on her white apron and went around to the back of the house. Letting out a long, weighty sigh, she said, “Sookan, come and sit down next to me.
    â€œI should have told you yesterday when you returned, but I didn’t have the heart to bring it up. And you were busy telling me about Bokhi. I thought you needed some time after seeing your friend through that difficult period.”
    I knew my shouting poet had died. He wasn’t ill and he hadn’t just moved away or gone somewhere for a couple of days. Mother’s somber expression said it all.
    â€œWhen did he die, Mother? When? How did it happen?” I wanted to know. My head was pounding and I felt a shooting pain in my eyes. I felt like stomping on the ground and screaming. Why couldn’t I stop these sad and horrible things from happening all around me? What else would happen to me and the people I loved?
    â€œTell me, Mother, tell me everything!” I yelled. “Tell me how he died and when.”
    Mother sighed. “The day after you left for Bokhi’s house, he shouted as usual, but after that, we didn’t hear him anymore. At the water line, I learned that after he shouted that morning, he doubled over in pain. He had an advanced case of tuberculosis and he spat blood each morning after shouting his greeting. The physician at the health center apparently told him not to be out in the cold mountain air shouting in the morning, but he wouldn’t stop. He even shouted the morning he died. They say he was originally from Kwangwon province and he was indeed quite a well-known poet. When the war broke out, he lost all his family and escaped here alone.
    â€œAlthough no one returned his morning greeting, we all felt the loss. Everyone gave money to buy a tombstone in his honor. I knew you would be glad to know how much people cared. ”
    I listened in silence, feeling the sadness and anger welling up inside me. Why did he have to leave us? Why hadn’t anyone shouted back to him to let him know that he was appreciated while he was alive? What good was a tombstone now that he was dead? Why had I never climbed that other mountain to see him? All sorts of thoughts went through my mind as I stared at the empty mountaintop on the other side.
    â€œI heard he was in pain much of the time, Sookan. Now he is free of that pain,” Mother said, trying to comfort me. But it didn’t help at all. I still sat there, numb and engulfed by sadness.
    Mother hugged me and stroked my hair. “Sookan, we can go visit