Color Illustration Version If I Had Three Days of Light

Author: Xia Zhiqiang, Cheng Zhi
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-01-01
Features: In the 19th century, there were two outstanding figures—one was Napoleon, and the other was Helen Keller. —Mark Twain
This story will never end. Once the beauty of the human spirit is recognized, we will never forget it. Miss Keller taught us, those who do not have to overcome as many difficulties, an unforgettable lesson. —Mrs. Eleanor Roosevelt
Helen Keller is a name that makes us proud and ashamed. She should be remembered forever to give us the necessary reminder for our lives. —Maurice Maeterlinck
Helen Keller was rightly ranked as one of the top ten idols of the 20th century in the United States. This book perfectly combines a great experience with an ordinary story. Helen Keller is truly a great idol of human willpower. —U.S. Time
In the winter of 1892, a cloud of darkness hung over my childhood. I was filled with melancholy for a long time, immersed in pain, worry, and fear. Books also lost their appeal to me. Even now, when I recall those terrible days, I still shudder. The reason was simple: It was the autumn after I learned to speak, and I wrote a short story titled The Frost King and sent it to Mr. Anson of the Perkins School for the Blind. Unbeknownst to me, this caused trouble. To clarify the matter, I must write down the truth to reclaim the justice that I and my teacher, Miss Sullivan, deserve. I wrote the story The Frost King—it was the first story I wrote after learning to speak. In the summer, we stayed at our mountain villa longer than usual. Miss Sullivan often described to me how beautiful the leaves were in different seasons, which reminded me of a story someone had read to me, and I unconsciously memorized it. At the time, I thought I was "creating a story," so I eagerly wanted to write it down before I forgot. My thoughts flowed like a spring, and I wrote with ease, completely immersed in the joy of writing. Fluent language and vivid imagery danced on the braille paper. Every word and sentence was written on the braille board. Now, I can confidently say that if any inspiration flowed effortlessly into my mind, it was not a product of my own thoughts but something borrowed from others. However, at that time, I had difficulty distinguishing between these boundaries. Even now, I often struggle to tell apart what is in my own mind and what is written in books. I think this may be because most of my impressions of things come through others' eyes and ears! After finishing the story, I read it to Miss Sullivan. I still clearly remember how I was enchanted by the wonderful passages and how frustrated I was when I had to reread words I had misread. I also read it to my family at dinner, and everyone was amazed that I could write so well. Some even asked if I had seen it in a book. I was surprised by their question because I couldn’t recall anyone reading this story to me. So, I answered loudly and confidently, "No, I wrote it myself. I want to dedicate it to Mr. Anson." I then rewrote it and, following their advice, changed the title from Autumn Leaves to The Frost King and sent it to Mr. Anson to celebrate his birthday. I never dreamed that this birthday gift would bring me such trouble and pain. Was I plagiarizing? Mr. Anson loved the story and published it in the school newspaper at the Perkins School for the Blind. But soon after, my proud mood plummeted into a of pain and despair. I had been in Boston for not long when someone discovered that The Frost King was very similar to a story titled The Frost Fairies by Miss Margaret Campbell, which had been written before I was born and included in the collection Birds and Their Friends. The two stories were very similar in content and wording, so some people accused me of plagiarizing Miss Campbell. At first, I did not realize the severity of the issue. When I did, I was both surprised and upset. I suffered pain that no child should ever experience. It brought me shame, and it caused those who loved me to be suspected by others. I couldn’t understand what was happening! So, I racked my brain trying to remember what books I had read before writing The Frost King—whether I had seen any articles or books about frost. I couldn’t recall, but I had a vague impression that someone had mentioned Jack Frost, and there was a poem for children titled Frost’s Wild Ideas, but I had not quoted them. At first, although Mr. Anson, deeply troubled by the matter, still trusted me and treated me with kindness, things continued to worsen. To make him happy, I tried my best to appear cheerful. I even played the role of Ceres, the goddess of grain, in a masquerade during the celebration of Washington’s birthday. That day, I wore a rather beautiful outfit, with a wreath made of colorful autumn leaves on my head, and my hands and feet were adorned with fruits and grains. But these colorful and lively scenes did nothing to ease the deep sorrow in my heart.