Enoch’s Historical Fiction Vignettes

Poor People on the Street

All the people on the street, all those poor people, I was exactly like them at first whenX I came to America. They are begging and struggling hard to live. They traveled overseas seeking for the opportunities and freedom in America, but all they do is beg and work to earn only 4 dollars a week.
I remember the day I came to America. It was all weird and awkward like wearing a pair of shoes that don’t fit when I was walking around the streets of America. Strange people spoke a language that I could barely understand and speak, different people with different skin colors and tones. It felt like I was on a different planet.
Like most of the immigrants, I dreamed about being able to own a nice and enormous house with a beautiful garden and enjoying my wealthy life that I didn’t have before. I am a very lucky man to have a successful business which made me able to afford whatever I wanted.
As I look at all those new immigrants from all over the world who are passionate about achieving their dreams in America and reminds me of myself in old days, I feel like I have to help them to achieve their dreams too. Like Andrew Carnegie, who was my role model, I wanted to contribute to this country and help people with my money. I wanted to be the guy who doesn’t waste his money by himself and inspires people with their acts and doings.



The American Dream

When we arrived to the Ellis island, huge crowd of people rushed into the building like a herd of running buffaloes to quickly get into the immigration center which led them to New York, America, the country full of opportunities.
The immigration center was a huge building that could accommodate thousands and millions of people. Only by looking at the immigration center, I could feel how amazing America was.
When my turn came, people were inspecting and checking up on me if I had any diseases or sicknesses–my whole body was shaking before I saw a guy who was sent back to his country because the inspectors found out he was sick. I didn’t want to give up all my chances that I would get, plans that I thought about, and dreams I had in my mind.
They started to ask me some questions. The inspector asked, “What is your name and why did you come to the America?”. I answered the question with my poor English, but I tried my best to explain all of my amazing plans. The inspector listened to me carefully and gave me some advices which I didn’t really understand. He smiled at me and said, “You are good to go”.
I found myself running towards the exit of the center. A group of people with white uniforms with a red cross next to the exit sign gave me a donut and a cup of coffee. I was sitting down on the bench with my closed eyes, enjoying the moment with a donut and a cup of coffee dreaming how amazing my life in America would be.



The day I lost all of my money

The day I went out to the streets, the day I started to beg for money, the day I lost all of my money, the day I gave up all of my dreams that made my life different.
I was a wealthy businessman and I wanted to help poor immigrants achieve their dreams. But I decided to start buying stocks from stock markets with the money that I have earned to earn more and more money.
At first, the motive of buying stocks was just simply to earn more money. All of a sudden, I realised that I was addicted to it, but I couldn’t stop it and I couldn’t figure out the way out–it felt like I was stuck in a complex maze.
I can clearly remember the day when the companies started to fall and break down that all my stocks became worthless that it just became a useless piece of paper. I had no idea what was going to happen next. I had no money. I quitted my job relying on to the stocks, but now I really needed a job back. I couldn’t find one–even a bathroom cleaner.
The owner of the house kicked me out of the house. I needed a shelter to protect me and a job to live. My body was shaking and I had a bad headache. I couldn’t think of anything. I went out to the streets and started to scream and shout and to tell people my sad story, but nobody was there for me to listen to my desperate situation. I had no hope. I dropped all the way to the bottom from the top.


Refuge by Enoch Lee

The loud noise of a bomb woke me up and I heard my mother shouting my name out loud.
“Pack all your things that you need. We leave our house and get to our cousin’s house soon,” said my mother.
I didn’t say anything back because I was recently hearing the news about the attack from the north that I knew what was happening. I just shoved all of my clothes and other stuff that I need into my huge bag and quickly got out of my room to help other members of my family to pack the stuff that we need like some food and blankets.
When we all got out of the house, I could feel that the attack wasn’t far away from here. I could see the jets flying over my head, and the noisy sound of the bomb. So, we had to quickly move down to my cousin’s house which was in the southern part of the country. Moving out of my house and going to my cousin’s house to live wasn’t the most exciting thing to do, but it was fine I hated that I had to leave my house and our restaurant. Our restaurant had always been crowded with both people and the cooking ingredients and equipments, but now the restaurant is empty like a blank sheet of paper because we hid all the stuffs from restaurant under the ground and no one is in the restaurant anymore.
We finally started the journey. We were following the train trails that can lead us to our cousin’s house. On the street, soldiers were running around rapidly, and a lot of people were following down the train trail with big bags. I didn’t really know what was going on. I just tried my best not to lose my family and not to lose stuff that are very important to our family that I was carrying like matches and all the food even though all those people, soldiers, loud noises of bombs, jets above me, and the endless train track distracted me. I was scared and worried like a little mouse in front of the huge lion. I really missed my house and the restaurant. I hated this war.

Photo by Maj. R. V. Spencer/U.S. Department of Defense