Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 2020complete | Page 478

Flashback
Singapore International School (Hong Kong), Lu, Jason - 13
I can’t see. A shroud of darkness oppressed all lights and hope. My throat croaked through the dry desert
of my throat. My stomach grumbled in protest of the slowly dwindling food supplies. My fingers brush the rough
rusting walls of my steel prison. I’m sitting on old newspapers that I’ve brought on the journey. I look down at
the headline: “WAR IN SYRIA”.
I remembered the smoke...the gunshots. One moment I was sitting comfortably reading a book, the
next moment I was hiding. The ruins of my house protected me from the dangers of the war, hoping they won’t
find me. The survivors were being hunted for war prisoners to work for them, so they can expand their army and
weapons. I met survivors like me, also hiding from the soldiers. We started a revolution. But our hopes didn’t last
long, as lots of people got caught and taken away. Who knows what they did to them. We hid in the ruins and
only went out to scavenge for food and water. Sometimes we couldn’t find either. Some of the survivors started a
black market but was soon caught and taken away. One by one, we were taken away. One by one, we died. I
had to escape before I became a nameless corpse too.
I took all the supplies I had and ran to the seaside, searching for a boat, a raft, anything to get away from
there. The vast bulk of an iron ship materialized through the fog and gloom, like a beacon of hope, her light
called us to take refuge in the safety of her body. I clambered up a rope attached to the ship. The rough lines of
the ancient rope cut into my exhausted fingers, my muscles screamed in agony as I hauled myself inch by inch to
safety. When I got on, I looked around to see if there was anything to show where the ship was going.
The ship rocked from side to side, daubed across the nearest container were the letters “GBA”, my
mind jumped back to that glossy magazine, the advert for hope and a future for all in this new world. Shouts of
urgency sped up the wood staircase, announcing the ship’s impending departure from the dock. The open door
of the nearest container invited me to safety. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, the crew’s excited whispers
crept inside my ears, betraying their plans after their arrival in Hong Kong. They were about to leave this place,
and go to The Greater Bay Area. With a scream of ancient, rusted metal the ship began to move. A storm of
excitement and fear burned through my veins, continually igniting and extinguishing a glimmer of hope for the
future.
I was escaping from the war and entering a new place. With every hour that passed, fatigue and
exhaustion crept like a disease through my body, sapping my energy like a parasite. Finally, having laid out some
newspapers I brought and laid down. The ship’s gentle rocking soon brought me to sleep. Drops of water
splattered on my face, rudely dragging me awake. There was a leak on the roof. I sighed and moved the
newspaper to the other side of the container.
Still no water...why didn’t I collect the rainwater… what if I die here? I need water. My throat feels like
it swallowed a desert. Hope is the only chance available to me, whilst nibbling on some stale crackers leftover
from my supplies, restless sleep takes me again, giving the gift of dreams of my future in Hong Kong. The
container leaked streaming sunlight through the roof, its warm touch gently awoke me from my troubled sleep.
No sounds of men could be heard outside, no sounds of danger... slowly, carefully, cautiously I pushed the door
of the container open fearing its quiet screeching would bring the sailors to investigate. The ship had docked
already. I saw green land and birds flying. I saw cities and beaches. But the best thing I saw was a new life...
Looking back on that terrible journey, this old man remembered the chance he had taken and every day
gave thanks for it. Seated now in his apartment, overlooking this glorious example of human development, all the
buildings, all the shops. When I arrived, there were just the construction sites, just the potential of a home...the
skyscrapers stretched to their full height, dominating the landscaping, piercing the blue vault of the sky. Bright
lights played and danced throughout the scene, not now the flames and flares of war, but inviting beams of