The New Tales of Old Shanghai
Kellett Senior School , Preston , Hana - 10
T he man jogged hurriedly along the desolate road . It was strange - knowing who you were but not why - or how . The ministers had instructed him to clear his mind of any burdening thoughts , but each day they grew . Sprouted new , ungodly images like an irritating vine . His robe was stained with mud and mold , his beard streaked with twigs and old leaves . The sun glinted off of his bristly head , and his robes trailed along the grimy road . Anxiously glancing behind him , he had a worrying thought . What if they came after him ? No . The monks would understand his desperation for freedom . It felt good though - despite the guilt that hung around him like a storm cloud , to have more than a meal a day , to be able to speak to women , to be able to read something that was not sutras or Sanskrit translations . For the first time , the monk felt … free .
Over time though , he slowed down . He had time . Besides . What was freedom if you were not to make the most of it ? Now at a leisurely pace , the monk sauntered through town . As he neared the market , fresh smells began to waft up his large nostrils . Fruits , spices , even sugars were displayed throughout the stalls . Vibrant red banners and lanterns had begun to indicate the coming of the New Year celebration ; the annual theme a secret until the day . Rich merchants strolled through town , staring down at the rich fabrics and glistening jewels for sale in the market . Imposing stone warriors stood guard at the doors of ancient shrines ; tall and proud - yet frozen forever in time .
Suddenly , the monk heard cries . Shouts . Behind him , flashes of black and gold signified the Chinese Army . He instinctively bowed down to see figures of such importance . Wait . These men were no Chinese Army . These were the ministers of Jing ’ an Temple …
The monk broke into a sprint . His robes tore on nails , and bruises and cuts protruded into his skin . The sun in the sky had disappeared , but the novices had not . “ Stop !” they cried , clamouring to catch hold of the runaway monk . All of a sudden , a novice grabbed hold of his trailing robe . The monk felt the sharp tug and , with agility surprising to even himself , veered left down an alleyway . Behind him , yelps of agony echoed down the passage - glancing back , the monk saw a squirming mass of red-faced men . He did not stop . Still powering forward at full speed , he launched himself high up onto a towering brick wall . The monk dropped down from the tall structure and then , only then , did he slump down , onto the mud-stained floor . One day , he thought , I will be discovered , and punished for leaving the monastery . And then he straightened up ; almost smiling - but that day will not be today .
Each day , the monk became burdened with more and more disheartening thoughts . Him , in his stained orange robes , rattling the bars that kept him captive in Shanghai Prison . Him , sobbing , screaming , as he was dragged away towards an infinite oblivion . Him , brown bruises and bleeding gashes eroded into his skin . Him , a lifeless body strewn on the floor of the dungeons , his dead body nothing amongst the sea of still figures that lay around him .
The scream echoed through the dim chamber . Beads of sweat trickled down the monk ’ s forehead , joining together and dampening his muddy undershirt . His vision still blurred with sleep , the monk got up and gingerly made his way down the passage . Reaching forward to the huge oak doors , he cautiously prised them open , his eyes darting inquisitively around to try and catch a glimpse of any guards waiting , poised for arrest . Ducking behind tables and chairs , the monk headed towards the market . Once he had been enveloped by the bustling crowds , the monk slowly stood up - still stooping low , and out of sight . He reached deep into his pockets and groped around for any Renminbi , however , he found none . The monk gasped as he realised what he would have to do .