Nonfiction by Fu Vedic Marchan | September 15, 2025
As early as I can remember, I haven’t been able to see very well. Even when I was sitting in the front row, the words on the board seemed to lose their form. The white chalk’s dust looked like ribbons entangled. I knew something was wrong with my eyes. Under the sun, they shone—rich brown hues resembling dark chocolate—and in their bitterness, I suffered.
Nonfiction by Fu Vedic Marchan | August 25, 2025
It started the day I came to life. The man who impregnated my mother denied the blood that runs in my veins. “It’s not mine,” he said, parading his cowardice. He painted my mother as a Jezebel, a woman his mother would spit on, and hurled vicious insults our way.
It was my mother’s mother who saved us. “No honey of mine will remain unknown,” she declared. And so she named me Rich Knowledge, a name that would invite mockery and confusion, which people assumed belonged to a boy.