Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 2020 | Page 71

Hong Kong Young Writers Awards 2020 Thunderclouds disperse on the horizon, its underbelly swollen like a pink udder; daylight shoots through it and the land beneath it glows with an artificial light. The wind whispers; withered leaves collect at her feet. The streetlamps are dying; she waits for the sunrise. In her hand she clutches the piece of parchment that arrived at her village a week ago. She unfolds it for the umpteenth time, mouthing the words as she reads. Ten years ago I loved and lost you under the anticipating breath of the sunrise over Greater Bay Area. I was in love with a girl who loved me. But she forced me to see the lack of profundity in the world I was born into. We passed our days adrift on the river of time, trapped in a dreamy world forged of our dwindling breath and smoky days. Greater Bay was a dream of economic prosperity, where all people of different cultures dwelt in love and equality, and technology served to give us a life of comfort and luxury. You forced me to re-evaluate that golden, perfect utopia. Greater Bay Area is a shallow world. Those who dwell in it desire only fame and wealth. True love that was born in youth, like ours, could not survive in a world where trust was built on business transactions, and was torn apart by economic propositions. Any love that came to life was snuffed out as easily as the guttering flame of the streetlights at dawn. I once desired that my father should call my name with pride and jubilance. I dreamt that everyone in Greater Bay would call my name everywhere I went. I did not realise that one voice was more powerful and more precious than any other. I finally recognise that the only person I want to hear call my name is the love I lost the day I waited, endlessly, for the sunrise. So call my name, love — and I shall hear it as the moonlight wanes and the candlelight dies. I shall wait for your dear, known, well-remembered call as I wait for a new day: eyes and ears expectant, senses awake and trembling, flesh quivering on my bones. Oh, love — call my name! 132