Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 12 | Page 424

The New Tales of Old Shanghai
Singapore International School (Hong Kong), Tan, Emily – 11
T
hey whisper with closed mouths, they stare with blank eyes; their words sneer and snicker silently. I feel
them judging us, labelling us as the imperfections of nature, looking down upon our plain faces, dirty clothes
and slippers. Laughter comes easily for them, dressed in brown tweed jackets, elegant dresses and suede shoes.
Economy is increasing dramatically, rapidly, and soon trade with nations we have never heard of is common, we
are more shunted to one side, just a bronze spot in a stream of gold. Pity is shown plenty, but it will be washed
away by cups of coffee, compliments and conversation.
Half a dozen metal bicycles zip pass me, my clothes swishing as they go; I grin when I see them: I’ve always
liked speed. I watch in astonishment as they disappear into the distance- so fast! I spot them again, they’re riding
back this way. I smile, but then it’s gone, replaced immediately by a frown of confusion. The huge oncoming
horde of riders all wear identical uniforms with beige caps on their heads. Then- bang! I hear an extremely loud
and deafening shot, so powerful I hear an endless ringing afterwards, and my hands instinctively clutch my painful
ears. One rider has skidded to a stop, his hands clenching his blood-soaked clothes; when he collapses on the
ground, his eyes and face are blank. There are screams when I hear more shots fired, bang, bang, bang, bang…
Then the noise that tumbles out my mouth sounds more animal than human, it rings in my ears and I am so scared
I can’t move. My face is scrunched up, my hands tightly clamped onto my ears. Aghast people yell and push and
pull and crowd along building walls, away from the street. And then, again, bang, bang, bang, more shrieks, and I
still stand there, frozen, until a rough hand shoves me to the ground.
“GET DOWN!”
There I crouch, rocking back and forth, as the alarmed noises around me swirl like a tornado; gunshots, screams,
roaring of bicycle wheels, malicious laughter of the ugly, heinous people… Then behind me, the building wall
suddenly crashes and chunks of rock crumble off in different directions, the impact sending me flying out onto the
sidewalk. There is a terrific scramble for shelter, foreigners and locals alike, and finally my alarmed and protesting
legs drag me into an alleyway where the grass baskets lay in a pile. Panicking and completely overwhelmed, I dive
into one of the bigger baskets with a lid. I pinch the lid and shut the basket, curling up with my limbs in awkward
angles. It stinks of grass and sap is all over my clothes, the basket is dark and uncomfortable. I squeeze my eyes and
it seems like forever as I continually hear screams and shouts, gunshots and pleas, blasting and more screams, until
the streets are finally somewhat silent.
“No, please- please! Don’t kill me, please! No! Please!”
I hear the man’s hysterical begging; abruptly after a long, toddler-like scream, I feel the splatter of a warm
liquid spray all over my face, and in the dim light I see that it is blood, but not mine. I hold my breath as I hear
cruel laughter in the distance, and the sound of something dropping. The dull thunk draws tears down my face,
and I coil into a tighter position, listening to the footsteps of men and the voices in an alien language. I choke on
my silent breaths.
I hold in my breath as I open my eyes, peeked out through a crack in the lid. I see the mangled body. The chest is
covered in blood, and the head is completely blown off, the skull cracked open with bits of grey matter spewed in
chunks on the ground. The one eye remaining is twirled upwards, blank and unseeing, while the remains of the
man’s mouth and nose leaks with maroon liquid. His light blonde hair is streaked with red. Hot tears drip down
my face, and I cower in the bottom of the basket as I hear the Japanese stroll, laughing at the mangled body lying
near me, away from my ‘lucky’ basket, poking and prodding bodies along the way. The soldiers stop by my hiding