English Story:
I remember that Christmas like it was yesterday, particularly the cold weather: the way my breath seemed as of it could cut through my eleven years old bones and my brother instead on wrapping me in layers of clothing before I could even consider leaving the house. That was also the winter when I heart the true meaning of fear, the winter when I first met Master Khan.
Master Khan was an illusionist. I was never sure where he was from. I suspected China but somebody had told me Korea, America or Alaska, il wouldn’t have been the least but surprised. He seemed to exude a kind worldliness, the sense that he was from another place or another time.
The first tome I saw him, MAster Khan’s eyes seemed to bore into my soul,like he was looking at me; through me and inside me, all the same time. I’d bomped into him on the Main Street, quite by accident, just outside the local Burguer King. Having just read Dickens’ Oliver Twist, I was reminded of the character of Fagin.
‘Come here boy’ he said as one of his long, bony fingers beckoned me to a approach. He grinned at me like some kid of devil. His voice made me feel like an iceberg had eclipsed the sun, blocking out the meagre winter light. As he did his best impression of a smile, his lips seemed to peel back from his mouth revealing a frightening set of of pointed yellow teeth. He spoke in a low, threatening voice, do you want me to ask you again boy.
Master Khan was an illusionist. I was never sure where he was from. I suspected China but somebody had told me Korea, America or Alaska, il wouldn’t have been the least but surprised. He seemed to exude a kind worldliness, the sense that he was from another place or another time.
The first tome I saw him, MAster Khan’s eyes seemed to bore into my soul,like he was looking at me; through me and inside me, all the same time. I’d bomped into him on the Main Street, quite by accident, just outside the local Burguer King. Having just read Dickens’ Oliver Twist, I was reminded of the character of Fagin.
‘Come here boy’ he said as one of his long, bony fingers beckoned me to a approach. He grinned at me like some kid of devil. His voice made me feel like an iceberg had eclipsed the sun, blocking out the meagre winter light. As he did his best impression of a smile, his lips seemed to peel back from his mouth revealing a frightening set of of pointed yellow teeth. He spoke in a low, threatening voice, do you want me to ask you again boy.