Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 2020 | Page 85

Hong Kong Young Writers Awards 2020
Angel disappeared behind a corner. In a detached fashion, I noticed that in some parts of
the walls, the vines were holding the bricks together.
***
“Hi.”
This was the second time I saw her.
“Hey.”
Angel squatted next to me on the steps of the cathedral.
I stretch, “Funeral’s in there. I expect you’re here for that?”
“Partly.”
There was a stretch of silence. We stared ahead at the sunset.
“It’s been four decades,” I said.
“True.”
“You don’t look a day older and here I am, wrinkles and old age’s full glory. I’ve changed,
haven’t I?”
“No.”
I raise my eyebrow.
Angel shrugged, “Not much. I see the years haven’t dampened your fiery spirit.”
“You talking bout fiery spirit? I’m no longer pulling blades on people.”
She shrugged again.
The bells rang.
I stood up, bless my aching joints, and dusted myself off. It was seven sharp. Funeral
was starting.
The speaker was a portly man in his fifties. His carrying voice reverberated in the
cathedral, “Today we sit here in the memory Miss Shalom On. My name is Stefan. Like many
of us, I can’t help but love her for her candor, her bluntness, her stubbornness. Then again, like
many of us, I can’t help but be annoyed by her candor, her bluntness, her stubbornness.”
A wave of short-lasting laughter swept through the crowd. I frown.
“Despite all her misgivings, we can agree that she was a great woman. Our lives have
changed, turned upside down… but for the better.”
“From a time of darkness, she brought us to light; From a time of misgivings, she brought
us to trust; From a world of turmoil she brought us to her namesake, peace.”
Angel whispered to me, “Sounds like quite a hero.”
I sniffed, “That’s a whole pile of trash. Heroes are just over-glorified ordinary people who
were just doing right things in right conditions.”
He continued, “At fifteen, she was exiled from her settlement in Changsha, spurned,
rejected by her loved ones due to political differences. She made her way to the island formerly
known as Hong Kong, now renamed as Shalom Island in the Greater Bay Area, where she
founded the Olive Branch Society, dedicated to holding talks between the two political parties
the country was divided into, the start of her lifelong political goal. There, she encouraged me
to leave the scavengers’ way. She was so passionate, so filled with hope. I thought she was a
fool, but apparently her dedication was contagious.”
“It was hard at first. We had a rough time getting enough food or water or shelter in the
Wastes because they were, obviously, Wastes. Miss On would always give the best to us and
the worst for herself. Later on, the Society blossomed, but those days were embedded deep in
our memories.”
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