The Girl Trapped in the Vase
In our neighboring town, there was a peculiar phenomenon – the production of so–called “vase maidens“. These women, seemingly living inside ornate vases, were known for their extraordinary beauty, especially their delicate, alluring lips. Men from outside the town would spend their last penny to marry one and bring her home.
My father, Jack, had always been envious. He finally borrowed money to marry one himself.
But late one night, I discovered the terrifying secret behind these vase maidens.
Chapter 1
The town was buzzing with excitement that day. Tom Short, who had been single for decades, was grinning from ear to ear as he carried a vase maiden out of a wedding carriage.
Everyone craned their necks to get a better look. The vase was about waist–high, adorned with intricate, lifelike patterns that seemed to shimmer and move. From the top of the vase emerged a woman’s neck, slender and pale. Her face was covered by a bridal veil, obscuring her features, but her exquisite lips were visible, slightly parted to reveal perfect white teeth.
Several men nearby were practically drooling, their eyes filled with envy and jealousy.
I unconsciously touched the scar on my right cheek. If I hadn’t been scalded by hot water as a child, would I have been as beautiful as her?
“That Tom Short is one lucky bastard, someone muttered. “He looks like a potato, but he managed to snag a vase maiden.”
“I heard these vase maidens prefer shorter men,” another chimed in.
My father’s interest was immediately piqued. “Why’s that?” he asked, his own lack of height suddenly seeming like an advantage.
The crowd burst into laughter. “Makes it easier to take care of them, doesn’t it?”
Jack rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I’m going to borrow money and get one tomorrow.”
I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. My father was notorious in our town for never paying his debts. He still owed money for drinks all over town. Who would lend him anything?
But to my surprise, the very next day, my father brought home a vase maiden of his own.
The woman was breathtakingly beautiful, with skin like porcelain and eyes like works of art. Beneath her high, straight nose were lips so luscious they seemed to beg for a kiss. Even I, another woman, couldn’t help but feel my heart flutter at the sight of her. I could only imagine how men must feel.
My father was completely smitten, holding the vase and staring at the woman with such intensity that he was practically drooling.
The woman, too, was looking at my father with bright, inquisitive eyes, seeming to grow fonder with each passing moment.
I was utterly confused. My father was well into his forties, dark–skinned and far from handsome. Years of smoking and drinking had left him with bad breath and blackened teeth. How could this vase maiden possibly like him?
Then the vase maiden noticed me standing in the doorway and let out a startled cry. “Who is that? She looks terrifying!”
The scar on my right cheek was uneven and ugly, like a twisted vine clinging to my face.
My father rushed to comfort her. “Don’t be afraid, don’t be afraid. This is my daughter, Lily. Rose, this is your new stepdaughter.”
Rose glared at my father, clearly displeased. “Stepdaughter? I’m still a young virgin! How could I possibly have a daughter this old? Besides, I’m probably not much older than her.”
She glanced at the scar on my face, her expression full of disdain.
My father chuckled nervously. “Well, then, she can just call you by your name. I’ll treat you like my own daughter.”
“Oh, stop it,” Rose giggled coyly.
12:07 PM
<
My father, unable to contain himself any longer, carried Rose off to the bedroom. For a moment, I could have sworn I saw the patterns on
Rose’s vase move.
Soon, the sounds of my father’s pleasure echoed from the room.
For the next few days, my father barely left the bedroom, not even coming out to eat.
One day, I went to call him for dinner. When he emerged, his steps were unsteady, but his face wore a satisfied smile. Rose looked even more radiant, her little mouth like a ripe cherry, juicy and inviting.
I’m not sure if it was my imagination, but the patterns on Rose’s vase seemed more vibrant and lush than before.
As my father carried her out, Rose pouted, saying she wasn’t satisfied yet.
“Be patient, darling. We’ll eat and then go back to the room,” my father said, placing Rose on a chair and attentively offering her a piece of
meat.
This meat had cost us a month’s worth of food rations.
But Rose flew into a rage. “Have you gone senile? Do you think I eat this pig slop like you do? I wasn’t satisfied earlier, and if you can’t provide for me properly, you should send me back home right now!”
I was puzzled. Rose had been in the room with my father the whole time, and I hadn’t seen him bring any food in.
My father looked embarrassed and tried to soothe her. “I’ve been feeling a bit weak lately. I’ll eat some supplements tomorrow, I promise I’ll satisfy you then.”
But Rose wouldn’t let it go, insisting she was hungry and wanted to eat now.
Just then, there was a loud banging on our front door. Several menacing–looking men barged in.
