Off Script

1.0: Beginning of an End

Liu Jian understood at an early age that his birth was a hindrance, a simple inconvenience to both of his parents and his elder brother. He was a child born from one of his father's illicit affairs. No matter how hard he tried to get their attention, for any ounce of love or a simple pat on the back for doing his best, Liu Jian was quietly ignored. Snubbed, even. He may have never been physically abused, but the psychological trauma weighted heavily on his shoulders. It's as if a stone sat atop of him, crushing his metaphorical hope and desire to just be seen as family by them. He still tried, though.

But even in death, he was disregarded and was met with thinly veiled disdain as his own father just stood at the back of the small crowd gathered to watch his coffin drop down to the ground, smoking a cigarette and looking at his watch, like him dying wasn't even worth his time. His heart grew cold as one by one, everyone left, not even glancing back. As time passed, the pressure on his chest broke and the dam that kept his emotions at bay for years opened. Tears fell down his face, transparent and ghostly as himself, mourning at the thought of why his life was so pitiful and small. The boy sat by his headstone, fingers gently tracing the carvings on it.

Xiao Jian
Beloved child who was taken too soon

The sound of crazed, sad laughter echoed the cemetery, but the pitter patter of rain muffled him as he knelt to the ground furiously beating on the carvings that mocked him.

They didn't even want to place their surname on the tombstone.

From birth till death, he was unwanted and alone.

Always alone.

-

He didn't know how much time had passed, only the shifting of day and night told him the rough estimate of the date. It's been weeks since his funeral, weeks since anyone visited his decrypted resting place and weeks since he closed himself off. Liu Jian just sat there, staring at empty space and wishing that he could just peacefully leave the world.

As the weeks turned into months, months into years, a legend emerged from the graveyard. If one were to go to the top of the hill at night, when the moon was full and the only light in sight was the twinkling of starlight around, a child on the cusp of manhood would appear by the lonely gravestone on the top slope, tucked away to the corner of the cemetery. His beauty captured even the most icy hearts with soft, entrancing eyes and dark, lush hair that swayed in the wind, an existence brighter than twilight. But an air of melancholy surrounded him, like a yearning of lost love and eternal peace that slipped from his fingers.

The monument erected only had a simple name, a pet name. Xiao Jian.

-

A man came by his grave. He was as handsome and as sad-looking as he was.

He stood by the grave, adam's apple bobbing as he took a breath,"My name is unimportant to you, but I am your nephew. I doubt that there is anyone here, but father insisted I come and pay respect. He... apologizes."

"You see, father..." he started, not knowing a ghostly apparition hid by the treelines, watching him.

He paused before crouching down to meet eye level with the headstone, "He called himself a coward in his final moments. For what reason, I don't know. What him and my grandparents have done, I'd assume from the journals he wrote, was negligence. I have no right to ask this, but please find it in your heart to forgive them."

The man quietly whispered into the air, rubbing away some of the dirt and grime that was stuck on the stone, "Did you know, I grew up with stories of you. From all three of them. They loved you, but they didn't know how to cherish a person such as you. They all felt guilty. Grandfather Liu couldn't cry in your funeral, he thought he had no right to. Grandmother Wang was jealous but learned to care for you, calling you a sweet child and hated how you died thinking you were unwanted. As for father..."

His eyes and his smile grew more gloomy as he said the next words, "He loved you, truly."

As he laughed at the irony, he traced the name engraving and sighed, "They called you Xiao Jian, as if you were a treasured child they held dearly. I'm sorry I'm decades late uncle. Find it in you to forgive me as well."

He left as swiftly as he came, as if he was the ghost himself.

After that night, the legend of the boy on top of the hill dwindled down and vanished.

There were no more sightings of him.

--

Letting go wasn't as hard as he thought it was. For the first time in years, he felt at peace.

As he faded into darkness, under the cover of thick trees and the moonlight, becoming more transparent as he relaxed his body, he had some fleeting memories. Ones he tried to forget desperately. His father's misty eyes as he turned from the casket, bustling down to his car and his stepmother weeping into his brother's shoulder, whose face was in a pained grimace as he clung to his mother's hands, a complex emotion running across his face as he glided the both of them away from the mass of people.

Liu Jian finally was put to rest.

- - -

Xiao - Young/Little, a term of endearment