Petals from the Sky by Mingmei Yip Read Free Book Online

looked around and whispered to one another. When more “Fire! Fire!” was heard and the smell of smoke began to fill the air, people sprang up, then pushed and screamed. As swift as a cat, the eye-twitching nun dashed onto the platform and pulled Yi Kong down, knocking over the Goddess of Mercy statue. Yi Kong wanted to say something, but was already being pushed by her captor toward the exit. But it was too late; now everybody—one body and one mind—dashed toward the gate like lunatics chased by lightning. The eye-twitching nun shielded Yi Kong with her plump torso and shouted, “Give way! Let Venerable Yi Kong pass!” The same people whose faces lit up and smiled with ecstasy when they caught sight of her now turned a completely deaf ear to the plea.
    Everything happened so quickly that it took me seconds to realize I was squeezed among frightened people pushing in an advancing wave. Part of the ceiling was now ablaze. Splinters of crackling wood plunged onto the floor with startling thumps, shooting sparks in all directions. A man’s back caught fire; several people slapped him with meditation cushions. He screamed like a pig being slaughtered. Another woman wailed hysterically when a ball of flame landed on her hair.
    The panic was contagious. Everybody cried and yelled—for help, for loved ones, from fear, from pain. My heart raced while my lips frantically muttered prayers. Pressed forward by the mob behind me, I looked toward the platform for Yi Kong and the eye-twitching nun, but they were nowhere to be seen. Exclamations of “Help!” and “Fire!” struck my ears above the cacophony of clanking buckets, clattering footsteps, hysterical pushing, and screaming men, women, and children. More smoke seeped out from the platform and the side walls; its acrid stink tore at my nostrils, stinging my eyes to tears.
    My gaze darted around. An old woman trying to squeeze out of the entrance was flung aside by a man. A couple held hands and pushed with one heart. The Merit Accumulating Box fell over; bills and coins spilled across the floor, glittering under the sun angled through the tall windows. Meditation cushions were flattened under the stampede. Slippers and chant books were strewn everywhere on the floor, together with wallets, keys, smashed glasses, gold chains, prayer beads. People cried, squirmed, thrust, tumbled. The air was dense. More splinters of wood fell. Coughing, I covered my mouth tightly so I wouldn’t inhale the smoke, or scream. My heart raced. Mother’s image kept spinning in my head while tears burned like lava down my cheeks.
    Suddenly, I saw the fire devouring the altar and melting Buddha’s face. I screamed and pushed as if chased by the King of Hell. Would I survive as I did when I had fallen into the well? Or would I die burning in this hellfire? Guan Yin, please help me again, I don’t want to die! I came here to pursue my spirituality, not my death! I kept praying, when suddenly I realized the Goddess of Mercy—now a heap of shards on the floor—was even more helpless than I. Another realization hit me like lightning—my fifteen years’ cultivation of nonattachment and no self were gone in a second!
    Then I noticed a small boy next to me crying his heart out and calling “Mama! Mama!” I picked him up and held him close to me. Right then I felt someone grab my arm. I turned and saw Michael Fuller. He took the child from me and shouted above the din, “Come! Follow me!” Instead of moving with the mob toward the gate, he pushed me away from it. Before I had a chance to protest, he snatched the microphone and used it to smash the window. The boy cried louder. Fresh air rushed in. While I was trying to step out, a flaming beam fell right toward me. Fuller shielded me with his body and pulled me away. The three of us fell hard onto the floor. The boy shrieked. Fuller kicked away the beam, then stood up and gave me his hand. My knee hurt terribly and I was too stunned to respond.