A short story by Kh.Bolor-Erdene, from her book, “Made In the Heart” Their father has returned from Germany. I’m guessing that the family of those two girls is unbelievably happy. Unfortunately I don’t have a father who returned from Germany for his lovely girl. I don’t know about the candles brought from Germany and I don’t know how it feels to brag about leather briefcases, imported from abroad. It is nice. It is bad. It is not the last time, I guess. Their father is not my father. He has not brought any gift for me. I should forget about these people. My pillow, made from my old clothes makes me ill. I turn my head and feel better. I lie on my bed and the ugly green wall is touching my nose. “The girls’ father has returned from Germany. It is really unfortunate that this father is not mine.” “In Germany, the houses are built by rock candy and the German children wear crystal slippers,” said those girls. Is it possible to put on the crystal slippers? Can I possibly play with those girls who wear crystal slippers like we did before? Maybe the girls who wear the crystal slippers will fly like an airplane while I walk on the earth. Their father has never been angry. How did they find a father like this? …Sun rise. The father of those girls, who returned from Germany, called me. I heard. “My grandmother and I will have breakfast when I returned to my home!” After school I felt that the bus was driving too slowly back to our home. I ran quickly to their home as soon as I left the bus. Would he give the crystal slippers to me as well? The lustrous black slippers. Their father brought me the most wonderful slippers I have ever seen in my life. I put on the slippers and folded down my socks, which were too big. My nose pointed at nothing but my wonderful new slippers. This crystal slippers were mine, and they came from Germany. “It is too small for you because your legs don’t reach the front of the slippers.” Those girls’ mother mumble when she mercilessly jabbed her fingers into my new slippers. “No, it is not too small, it is not small. It fits like a glove.” I ran away to stop them from taking the slippers away from me. “No, it is not too small, it is not small,” I whispered for three days, not taking my slippers off, even when my feet became blistered and sore. I even hated my beloved grandmother who ordered me that take off the slippers. “My wonderful slippers fit like a glove on my legs.”
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