Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 2020complete | Page 124

Bullet
Harrow International School Hong Kong, Tan, Millie - 10
Two months ago, I was just a carefree, nondescript ten-year-old girl. That’s all changed now. It all started
with a bullet. A rubber bullet.
I used to live in a city called Hong Kong, but not any more - at least, it’s not the city I once knew. The
city where I was born, the place I have called my home for the past ten years, has changed beyond
recognition. It has been drained of all its colour. Vibrancy has turned to violence. Peace has been replaced
by protests. Acceptance has given way to adversity. I yearn for the past, yet just like the soap bubbles from
the bubble machines that young children play with in the city’s parks, I know that, once they burst, they are
gone forever. There is no going back.
Two months ago, a rubber bullet hit me straight in the chest - it might as well have been my heart. Since
then, my life changed completely. Everything I knew suddenly turned into doubt. This is no longer the
city I loved. This is a strange and alien place, full of chaos, hate, acrimony and heartbreak. And I don’t like
it.
I made my decision. I would run away. I could not live here anymore. Abandoning my past will be one of
the most difficult things I have ever done. So I slowly get out of bed and pack my bag. I pack a picture, my
diary but, most importantly, I pack courage and determination.
I tiptoe down the stairs, silently saying my goodbyes, and I open the front door. Immediately, I feel the
cold air gently blowing on my face. I walk down the bustling streets and make my way through the crowds.
After some time, I hear metal shutters being brought down and the bright neon lights turn off. The
moonlight shines down onto my face and the stars twinkle in the sky. I wish everything would be this
peaceful, but soon, I can hear the echoing footsteps of the protesters and see a glimpse of tall, black shadows.
I start to walk faster and faster and I start to tremble. My heart is beating so fast and everything is a blur.
Police sirens wail and I can hear loud angry voices. I want to scream and tell everyone to stop, but I know
it would be pointless. I stare at the scene once more, and then turn and run away, trying to forget
everything I saw.
Running and running, I realise I’m swept up in a crowd of protesters, screaming and shouting. I keep
running, trying to make my way out of the crowd when something is sprayed in my eyes. I can’t see
anything and it stings. Just as I’m about to be smothered by the crowd, I feel somebody grab my hand and
say, “Come with me, quickly!” I know I shouldn’t trust strangers - especially ones that I can’t even see -
but something about his voice makes me trust him, so I let him guide me along the streets. I hear a door
being opened. Suddenly, the noise and chaos are gone. I feel a soft blanket being placed on me and I can’t
help drifting off to sleep.
The next morning, my vision slowly starts to come back, so does the memory of the horrors of the night
before. And yet, there was something about the room- so quiet and calm- that I don’t feel afraid I get up
from the couch and pour myself a glass of water. I must have made a loud noise, because an old man comes
into the room and says, “Ah, I see that you’re finally up.” I recognise the voice. Finally, I manage to croak,
“Thank you for saving me.”
He sits down next to me and looks at me with dark, sad eyes and says, “You’re running away, aren’t you?”
I nod my head and say, “I have no choice. I hate what’s happened to this place!”
“It’s not a good idea.” He says, shaking his head and chuckling softly.
“What would you know?” I ask, unable to control my temper. All my anger and sense of hopelessness came
rushing back to me, the rubber bullet, and the way this city has changed. “You see what is going here too”,
I almost shout. “How could I possibly want to stay?”
He looks at me, unmoved by my sudden outburst. “I know how you feel,” he says, eventually. “I once
lived in a country I loved, Myanmar. But then things changed. Finally, I had to run away because I was
being persecuted. How I wish I could go back there someday. Home is home, however much it may
change.”