Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 2020complete | Page 408

Hopping nervously from foot to foot, Zelda awaited her turn to board the Marie Celeste for the voyage
towards the Greater Bay Area. All around her, the city’s noises faded to a standstill, and it was here she could
finally feel true happiness surrounding her like a bubble. The azure waves danced on the seashore, and the
overwhelming aroma of roasting fish brought her to her kitchen back when the virus hadn’t hung over her. She
could feel the ocean breeze brushing her hair with tender fingers, taste the hint of salt on her tongue, and smell
fresh bread oozing up into the air, with screams of delight as children rushed among the sailors, watching for
their fathers.
“ Holloa, boys! All aboard the Marie Celeste! Bon voyage from this sorry place. ” A booming voice
echoed all directions, and everywhere, daily jobs seemed to cease. Everyone gaped appalled at the sorry sight
standing in front of them. The Marie Celeste had torn, decaying sails, splattered with black splotches spattered,
iron railings rusted; brittle, corrugated wood reeking of rum and beer from countless sea crossings. Was this really
the ship that would be bringing them to paradise? Worried murmurs began to rise from the increasingly anxious
civilians about to board the ship. Frowning, they asked themselves, should they have stayed home? Was it too
late to turn back now? Zelda took a deep breath, knowing she had asked for this adventure. Well, it is certainly
too late to turn back now, she thought to herself. With that, she climed onto the gang plank, fingers trembling
on the rusted rails.
It was a long journey. The excitement had started to fade as soon as they reached the sea, with men and
women waving handkerchiefs to the already distant blobs of people, and after that, Zelda was trapped in a blanket
of depression. Day by day, seasickness plagued the passengers, making their backs,knees and ankles sore from
trying to escape lurching hallways of the boat, and only eating a meagre supper of porridge and water. It was
never enough. The advertisements had turned out to be fraudulent and without their promise of luxurious cabins
and days by the pool. Grumbling was the only sound she heard for days on end, with passengers wailing about
their bruised feet and aching throats. But Zelda kept silent. Long, long ago, when the police had turned the city
upside down with their hunts for “Necropolis escapers”, Zelda had learnt to keep silent. It was just life, they said
in that crumbling carriage. Life that needed escaping. Survivors of the virus had to hide, and Zelda was one of
them. Her mother wasn’t. A day had not gone by that Zelda had not missed her, missed the camomile scent of
her mother, missed the soft, glowing eyes. Her mother had caught the virus, and as the organisers had said “All
sick must be exterminated.”
Turning around from her tears, Zelda started towards the deck, wishing regrettedly she was in the
questionable safety of her home. Suddenly, pelts of happiness seemed to explode from the deck as passengers both
old and young weeped with joy as they saw the sunrise of a new city. The Greater Bay Area. They were there!
They were really there! After all the trials and tribulations, they had finally reached their destination.
The Greater Bay Area was music to the eyes. As far as you could see, millions of skyscrapers towered
over the horizon, reassuring of their presence. From vermillion red to amber orange, skyscrapers could be seen
dotting the skyline as if put there by the skilled hand of an artist. Civilans bustled around doing their jobs, gentle
slap of slippers falling in flawless accompaniment to the gentle hum of voices. Up above, the sun unfurled its
glorious petals, rays of silver falling down from the sky. They blinded Zelda’s sight temporarily with their blaring
glow, and when she finally looked back, the perception of the buildings were altered, as if a magical, mystic spell
had been lifted. Finally, she saw the heavenly glow, the eye opening windows shimmering like the thousand
facets of a diamond, a sight that engrained itself in her brain. The street was filled with millions of smells, some
sweet, some strong. One prominent one she smelt as soon as she stepped on the newborn road was the sweet
aroma of roasting almonds. The blistering heat made the smell stronger, tantalising and mouthwatering,
beckoning her to stay just a moment longer and to be satisfied with the world.
“Yes,” Zelda said blissfully to herself “This really is the start of a whole new world! ”