Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 3 2018 | Page 23

she was gone. Her father could never forgive himself for not being there and watching her. Weeks passed
and the war was getting worse, the man swore to himself that if he couldn’t save his daughter, at least he
could save other people who are suffering and have families. He soon got a job and saved up for a boat and
used every penny made on buying homes for refugee families. He doesn’t regret a single moment of saving
these families lives.”
I wanted to give that man all the happiness in the world but I couldn’t because that is what he did
for me and my family, and many other families. That man was the answer to our hope and because of him I
can live and have a future; because of him I can be happy and not afraid. Later that evening I went to the
roof with my seeds and a bucket of water; I carefully made holes in the soil for each seed and dropped it
inside. I recovered the holes with soil and poured a bit of water over the soil.
Eight months passed by and my trees were growing big, I went to check up on the roof and saw
one ripe rosy red apple. I carefully picked it off and wrapped it in a cloth. Heading downstairs I told mother
I was going for a walk and left the building. I hopped up onto the bus still holding my apple. I soon arrived
at the dock where my new life began and I sat down, waiting.
After an hour I heard a boat and could see it in the distance coming closer, slowly. The boat came,
the man driving, threw me the rope and I tied the boat to the dock. A family of four came out, the mother
with two girls and a boy, just like my family. I smiled and said welcome and they smiled back and moved
on. The man then came out and stood next to me, I got up, unwrapped the cloth and handed this man my
rosy red apple and said, “Hope.”