When I looked deep into Chiem’s beautiful eyes, I could see the indifference staring back at me.

I was born and raised in a small isolated village surrounded by water. My Trai Village was very poor. There were those who, from the time when I first met them to the time they died, had worked their fingers to the bone in silence. Then one day they just disappeared as if they had never existed at all.

My parents got divorced. No one on my father’s side would agree to adopt me, until my uncle and his wife urged my paternal grandparents to take pity on me. I ended up moving in with my maternal grandmother when I was five years old.

My father placed a bunch of bananas between the two graves of my grandparents, then planted several burning joss sticks in front of their tombstones and bowed down to them.

By Phan Hon Nhien

The memories still gave Vinh a lingering taste of their early days together, two years before. The excitement of the first conversations, the first moments of intense emotion, occasionally came back to him with powerful clarity.

A floating bottle on the river

By Le Van Thao

He just turned twenty that year. His army unit was stationed upriver of a his home river. His home was in the downstream. Every day after coming home from foraging for firewood in  the forest, he together with his friends went swimming, relishing the taste of his home land. One day over-brimming with emotions of home sickness, he thought about writing to his family by putting the letter into a bottle and floating it downstream in the hope that the bottle would return home.

A fated raft adventure

by Ha Nguyen Huyen

For several decades, on the afternoon of the 15^th of January, old Vang would set off. With a touch of sadness on his face, he would walk straight to the river bank, find a flat, clean spot at the foot of a kapok tree and then arrange the offerings for the ceremony. While waiting for the rounds of incense to burn out, the old man would gaze listlessly at the river. When it began getting dark, and the incense had died, the old man would stand up, mumble something and pour one cup of spirits after another into the river. He would walk out into the darkness of the night, staggering home like a drunkard.

The bloody melon

By Nguyen Hiep

My mother’s two stinging slaps on my cheeks made me see stars and sent me staggering backwards.

The postcard from Stuttgart

By PHAN HON NHIEN

It was already September. From the cool air of autumn the weather turned unpleasant. The high wind with tiny raindrops blew from the valley through the narrow mountain path. During the night, it rained cats and dogs. The murmur of both rain and water seemed crawled into the filmmaker’s deep sleep. A wet atmosphere suddenly swept over the place and spoiled their plans.

An ever lasting coin

By SONG BIEC

"Yes, it’s true. There is a coin up there. Please go and find it for me, dear," my grandmother’s voice echoed in my ear.

The Phi bird still flies

By PHAN DUC NAM

Mr Tinh, sitting crosslegged next to the village head, Lo Son, turned to me and Hung and said, "The people here speak Vietnamese very well, so please feel free to speak with them."

By Da Ngan

I was handed a new-born baby weighing three kilos who had just been hastily washed. Who it looked like, nobody could tell. It looked like any other new-born baby. It’s face was crimson red and it screamed in a strong and steady wail.

By Do Bich Thuy

Though the thorny branches along the path, Vi quickened her pace. It was only a few more metres to her parents’ house. Her seven-month-old daughter, Mi, was fast asleep, tied carefully onto her back. It was the first time the child had left the house, as her paternal grandmother was so careful with her.

By Nguyen Ngoc Tu

The song and dance troupe dissolved and Quach Phu Than took old Nam Nho back to Suong Intersection. Than had a new girlfriend who was a salesgirl at a food stall there. The girl’s name was Diem Thuong, a sound pleasing to the ear, and she had a pretty face.

By Nguyen Vinh Chi

It was October. The eastern part of the city was engulfed in drizzle every morning. Trees, roofs and streets were covered with a perpetual grey vapour. On a day just like this, all my thoughts and feelings felt jumbled and strange. Finishing my paper early, I craved something hot to eat.

By Phan Dinh Minh

Conductor Le Bau was very fond of arabica coffee. He liked drinking it strong. When he lifted the lid of the percolator, a thin vapour spiraled into the air as he stirred a little bit of sugar into the cupful of black liquid. His cat was now lying on his lap. With his right hand he caressed its rosy velvety nose. It blinked its eyes and then buried its head into his belly. Whenever he sat drinking coffee, it slowly approached him. If he failed to pick it up or to pet it, it would disturb him by slightly scratching his legs with its paws.

Cold wind in Dong Vai

By Nguyen Thi Thu Hien

"Stop it! Get away!"

The two dogs’ barking nearly drowned old Nen’s shouts. She was trying to separate them with the stick she used to coax the chickens into the yard.

The Fable of Doan

By Thai Ba Tan

Doan was a carefree and content old man. As a career diplomat he spent much more time abroad than in his homeland. At the height of his career he was promoted to a departmental chief in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, and spent two successive terms in Scandinavia.

Lost in the capital

By Bao Ninh

I’ve travelled extensively throughout my life, but I’ve only found my way to Hanoi on several occasions. So, apart from Hoan Kiem Lake, Long Bien Bridge, and Hang Co Station, I know very little about the capital.

A blacksmith’s life

By NGUYEN DUC THIEN

A small hammer, pincers, scissors, a bunch of iron wire and empty aluminium cans sat piled in front of Dong. His face was slack, expressionless, and his skin looked rough and dirty. He sat on a high stool, but his knees still seemed to reach his face, and his back was hunched.

Deer Valley

By Bui Huy Vong

In the past ten years the forest around Sen Village has been completely revived as a result of the state’s afforestation project. Consequently, in the Deer Valley woods, at the rear of Sen Village, now inhabit numerous species of wild animals and rare birds. Once again, after years of silence, birdsong can be heard from dawn ‘til dusk.

The rain

By Phuong Quy

Little by little, the rain began to fall more heavily, battering the thatched roofs as though someone was dumping out a bucket of pebbles.

Fate

By Quynh Van

It was said that with such beauty and talent, she could have been the wife of a lord. But her husband Nham, however bright he looked, was only a shadow by her side.

Africa

By Phan Hon Nhien

1. The Saturday morning was grey-blue. A rope ladder was hanging in the middle of the wall of a big house across the road. The ladder looked like a deep brown backbone that had suddenly pushed that soulless vacant space into view. Vinh left the bed and walked to stand in silence by the window and smoked. The icy February air made all the forms down there shrink and disfigure. Everything was clean and smooth. Those dull urban lines were so wonderful. Vinh flicked the cigarette butt away. The little flare moved in an arc like a firefly in fear, and then it died out. He poured a glassful of coffee from the coffee filter and walked back to sit on the edge of the bed.

By Chu Thao

Mrs Nam felt her son Teo’s forehead. It was still red hot. Her little son had been in a light coma since early morning. He cried without opening his eyes. His face was crimson, his lips dry. He was breathing heavy and quick. The young mother looked at him with worry – dengue fever had broken out in this remote area.

By Tran Thuy Mai

Little Dung was very slim with a small face. Her big black eyes appeared bright. Each time Mum caught a glimpse of that brightness, she whispered into my ears, "It seems to me that your daddy’s staring at me."

By Nguyen Thu Phuong

I was having a cup of coffee with a friend of mine in a restaurant on the grounds of the women’s cultural house. We were still talking at length about the night’s dramatic football match when his boss urgently called my friend back to the office. He hurried away, leaving me behind all alone. While we had been sitting there, a lady had had her gaze fixed on me for more than twenty minutes.

The misfits

By Pham Thanh Khuong

Once her son Than and daughter-in-law Bich were finished speaking, the old woman stood up to leave. Whenever she had to sit in the drawing room she felt a bit frightened. She remembered the first time she had sat on the sofa with the maid Huong’s help—how she sank into it slowly. She had to grasp the arm to keep herself balanced. "How large it is! And it’s yellow; it looks like skin!" she said. Huong explained to the old woman that it was just a sofa with springs underneath, not a bamboo bench in the country. Though her mind was set at ease, she still became nervous when she felt herself sinking into the cushions once again. She imagined she was a little girl in a bamboo basket on her mum’s shoulder pole during the evacuation years ago.

By HOANG DU

In Dinh Dong hamlet, Hai was the last soldier to return home, nearly one year after the liberation of Sai Gon. The reason was simple. He was seriously wounded during crucial hand-to-hand combat at Xuan Loc, the enemy’s last stand. On the eve of April 30, 1975, while the whole nation was celebrating victory, Hai and many soldiers were confined to hospitals. Thanks to the joy of the triumph on the one hand, and the skilful treatment of the doctors on the other, he soon felt better.

By DO QUANG HIEU

He was finally released from jail. He was not too tired to turn his head back to have a last look at the gate of the prison. He did not understand why he stood there, looking at that iron door slowly closing before he walked down to the highway. It was over, after ten years of being in prison, he was now about forty years old. Ten years in prison for homicide. The night he stabbed somebody to death, he was heavily drunk, so in the morning, when he woke up, seeing blood stains on his hands, he was greatly terrified.

By TRAN THUY MAI

I was a tutor to Stephano, a middle-aged Italian man, lazy and stubborn, with dark blue eyes. The first time I arrived at his home to teach him Vietnamese I was mildly surprised at the dreamy looks found on the faces of the male deities in the numerous copies he had of paintings from the Renaissance.

The night came. The boat was anchored in the middle of the river. The fire atop the boat’s mast cast a soft yellow light on the water’s surface. Nobody in the hamlet by the Chua boat landing knew where the boat came from, though it had been there for over a month.

By NGUYEN QUANG THIEU

Short story

The dying addiction

My paternal grandmother was addicted to tobacco and baby urine. In my village, there were a dozen old women who smoked tobacco, but as far as drinking baby’s urine was concerned, my grandma was the only one. When I was only four years old, I was already at her service.

By PHAN THE PHIET

Short story

Winds rustle a forest’s leaves

The rice bowl of a poor family typically contains a small portion of rice and two slices of manioc. This is sometimes supplemented with boiled wild leaves dipped in salty sauce.

By NGUYEN HUU NHAN

Short story

Dad’s dusk

At one point in my life, I used to get these terrible headaches. Whenever it happened to me, I felt as if my head were about to split apart. During the night, I would sleep for a few hours and have dreadful nightmares, one after another, which tortured me mercilessly. I recently had an awful dream that I remember quite clearly. Mum had just passed away and a strange woman knelt beside her coffin and promised to look after my Dad during his remaining days.

A woman in white silk

Thu is twenty this year, in the prime of her life. She is entering her third year of university and has just begun dating someone seriously. She did it because she thinks it is important to have a boyfriend at this point in her life, and she thinks it might make her more like everyone else. She grew up basically alone, even though her paternal grandfather was a good caretaker. Her father, a pilot who died in training during peacetime, left behind a young wife, Thu's mother. When she was a toddler, her grandfather arranged for her mother to marry a friend of Thu's father. Thu moved in with her grandfather so he wouldn't have to be alone in his old age.

Enthusiasm on the wane

Across the river, behind the dim lights of the Chuong Duong Bridge, a corona of light was shrouded in thick mist. Milk flowers turned upward toward the deep violet sky, dotted with stars.

Tiny moons

It was about ten o’clock at night, little Ly was still being engrossed in drawing the picture on the desk. This morning in class, she would have borrowed the coloured pencils from Toan as his pencils had very beautiful colours. “Dad has just bought two boxes of coloured pencils for me and for sister Mi of my uncle Hai”.

Marriage

By HUE MINH

It was late afternoon, the air was hot and moist and almost everybody had left Dong Tao Market. There was the haberdashery girl, Ms Ba and the areca and betel vendor. And there was Han, the blacksmith who seemed to wear his sweat like it was a piece of clothing. She chatted with Han, who was hammering out a riot of sparks, as she tied her rice bag to her shoulder pole. On her way out she said goodbye to Ms Ba, flashing her full set of clean white teeth.

The last hunt

He was gliding along the bank of the Vac Swamp onto the Cai River with his hunting bow by his side. If he steered his boat downstream to the mouth of the river it would take him two hours. But in less time than it took a kettle of water to boil, he could make it upstream to his cornfield near his house, right at the foot of Con Rua Hill...

Roommate

By CAM HUONG

He started feeling dizzy the minute he walked out of his evening English class. But he got his bicycle from the Foreign Language Centre's parking lot anyway and did his best to pedal home...

Twin brothers

    (By VU OANH)

There was left in the room only two people, professor Dong and the dead body. This was the Surgery Institute’s funeral service place reserved for abandoned corpses and the bodies of those who volunteered to contribute their bodies to medical science...