Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 2020complete | Page 574

moment, it feels as though it is the only thing that matters; the only thing we must accomplish. But what if
we don't? What if the rival wins? Some may brush it aside, let it go. Others may break, like a fragile piece of
glass in a powerful storm. I was thinking about this, as I considered the flaws in the plan. Recently, each slab
had started to form a new rivalry that they had been silently dealing with. Alone, it was bearable. But if they
were together? No one knew how they would react. The ones who wrote the plan surely knew about this
rivalry; they were the ones who experienced the essence of it in their attempts to create the partnership. Yet
they failed to address it, and didn’t mention whether they would be there to step in if any conflict occurred.
If any one of the slabs was acting as a participant, not a competitor, it would allow the other slabs to develop
but would shatter its own long-term goals. Were we going to risk the downfall of one of the slabs, for the
sake of the development of others?
~~
The council sat around a huge wooden table, its edges serrated from its many years of service. The lines on
the wood swirled and swivelled, dancing, to create many unique patterns filled with different shades of
brown. I sat on my seat, the fabric torn and worn out. The cushioning had sunk so low that my eye-level
was below everyone else’s. I had chosen that seat with the intention of being less noticed, but then I saw the
eyes fall on me as I uncomfortably shuffled, trying to find a position that wouldn’t leave my back in pain
afterwards. My briefcase stood on its side beside the leg of my chair. The briefcases of most others in the hall
were clean, and plain, but mine was scratched and dented, burdened with tags from many trains and
aeroplanes I had taken. Travelling was my way of finding out how we were different from others. It was
interesting, I thought, how all humans are fundamentally the same species, yet we are all so different in the
way we look, we think or we speak. What we find interesting could be a bore to a group of people in
another part of the world. One underestimated how much you can learn from just meeting someone else. I
pondered over this as the leader began to speak.
After a long half of an hour of words going through one ear and coming out of the other, it was finally my
turn to speak. My knees were shaking, my heart was beating so hard I though it may break my ribs. Pearls of
sweat started to form on my forehead, in contrast with the cold feeling I had in my stomach. I was about to
do what many considered impossible… contradict the leaders.
~~
Imagine telling someone to make soup, but now telling them how to. You elaborate on the effects of that
soup and how it could cure many diseases like cold, cough and so on. But how will the person make it? It is
often said, ‘Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day; teach a man to fish and you feed him for a
lifetime’. But on a more negative note, if you don’t teach a man to fish, you leave him in a situation where
he doesn’t know what to do, and is left in the cruel hands of doubt and hopelessness. The plan envisioned
hundreds of policy directions and goals, but didn’t specify exactly how they would execute them. The plan
may have been there to provide ways to strengthen the existing systems and find weaknesses that need to be
fixed, but with a lack of guidance, is there really anyway this will be possible? ‘Actions speak louder than
words’... simply stating something and expecting it to happen is useless and redundant. There must be
action, or else, we will all fail.
~~
“Speak louder.”
I addressed the council softer than I should have, receiving looks of confusion on the members’ faces. I
cleared my throat and began again. I had a strange habit of rapidly moving my fingers when I was nervous,
as if I was playing a piano.
It started when I was young… the piano was my most favourite thing in the world. I would spend every
moment of my free time making music on its black and white keys. There would be days when I wouldn’t
leave the comfort of the magnificent instrument, until my mother would call me out and threaten to sell the
piano to the local music center. Whenever I was nervous, my first instinct would be to engage with the
piano. I would be captured in the moment, losing myself to the beautiful melody and rhythm, forgetting all
else, including my own existence. Once I was back to reality, from my glimpse into the spiritual world, I
would feel rejuvenated, energised.