Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 3 2018 | Page 98

The Awakening of the Golden Buddha
Harrow International School Hong Kong, Chin, Matthew - 13
W
hen William Wong announced that he would shortly be leaving on yet another one of his
adventures, no one in the village of Yuntai even batted an eyelid.
Wong used to be an erudite entrepreneur. Ever since he graduated from the University of Beijing,
his heart had been with the world of finance. However, only recently, he came across an iniquitous man,
one who desired ever so dearly to get his hands on Wong’s copious amount of wealth. The man kidnapped
Wong, only for our dear friend to slip his way out of his captive’s reach. Howbeit, ever since this calamity,
Wong was never the same again- he was always agitated and full of an unexplainable melancholy. From
then on, Wong perpetually wanted to go on adventures, to seek the impalpable nirvana, and to be released
of his dolefulness.
A week before Wong’s departure, something truly magnificent happened- as Wong entered his
parlour, he could descry a tall, daunting man in plaid red robes floating cross-legged above the table. The
man had an aura of immense power, his body radiating a soft, golden hue. His hair was tied into a black
bun, eyebrows drooping over sharp, intelligent eyes. His right hand was held up, pliant fingers finely
webbed like that of a frog. This man was Buddha.
“My lord, what are you doing in my house? Do you wish for puja , or prashad ? I have a few flowers
in my back garden which I can give to you! I hear you love lotus flowers!” Wong’s trembling voice
indicated his disconcerted feelings. He had always longed to see this man, to speak to him about hedonism
and the way of life, but this man- Buddha- was so…intimidating. Even as Wong spoke, Buddha was
humming the sound of creation- Aum- his eyes shut with deliberation. “Why is the almighty Buddha
here?” Wong thought to himself. As if reading his mind, Buddha spoke with authority. “I am here for you,
Wong.”
Suddenly, as if in a trance, Buddha opened his eyes, a beam of blinding snake-green light streaming
out of his eyes. A wave of nausea passed through Wong’s body, and he feebly fell to the floor, his breath
raspy and acrid. Just as Wong was about to pass out, he discerned Buddha’s prepotent voice. “You shall go
to the west, like your ancestor Xuanzang did, and find the Golden Buddha.” Buddha’s voice died away as
his form receded from view. Soon, Wong fell into unconsciousness.
Wong sat cross-legged on the cold stone floor of a cave, the name ‘Yuanzhou’ neatly written on the
entrance. Around him, he could see tapers, their fires extinguished after centuries in the cold, damp
environment of the chamber. In the corner of the cave, Wong could see a wiry man in a dark, plaid shirt,
the number ‘1’ printed on it, like that of prisoners he had seen in the Drapchi prison. “I have been waiting
for you, Master Wong.” The man’s voice was as deep as a baritone, soothing to listen to. “Free me, Master,
and I will protect you on your treacherous journey to the west. Then,…” His words were cut short by an
unearthly howl, and Wong woke up with a start.
“It’s just a dream,” Wong reassured himself. However, even as he thought so, he knew that the
dream was a premonition of what is to come. “I must find him!”
The next day, Wong packed his small duffel bag with essentials- a water bottle, some energy bars,
and a phone before he headed out of the village.
After a few weeks of travelling west, Wong rode into a forest and stumbled upon a deep, dark hole.
Before he could stop himself, Wong fell into. “Well, that’s it,” Wong thought to hi