Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 3 2018 | Page 394

The Second Journey
West Island School, Eyunni, Gayathri - 12
Chapter 1
I
had always preferred night to day.
Not for any specific reason. Maybe because I could look up at the sky, without the fear of burning my
eyes with the blazing sun. Maybe because I could look up at my ceiling and find some life in the glow-
in-the-dark stars I stuck up there. Maybe because I could hear silence, something which was quite rare in
my area. Or because I could escape. Escape from reality and jump into a world of fantasy, where what I
wanted was real and alive. Where I could escape from all the dark spirits like Jealousy and Hatred that lurked
within our world, and go somewhere, far away, where the only existence was me and all of my thoughts.
Even now, I still prefer the darkness. It protects me from the bright light, like a blanket covering one in the
cold.
People have strange obsessions. Mine was an obsession with a story.
When I was younger, my grandmother would tell me a story most nights before I slept. These were stories
that had been passed down generations; stories that are as old as time, or so I had been told. Stories that have
become part of me, that I could hear again and again, but never get bored of, for each time I listened, I
learned something new. I loved them all, but I had one favourite, ‘The Journey to the West’. For long, I
loved the story with all my heart, but I never knew why. Infact, I found it strange being obsessed with a
story. With time, I realised that it was more than just liking the plot, or being able to relate to the characters,
I started being part of the story.
But on my ninth birthday, something strange happened, drawing me to the story even more. I remember
vividly. Father was on a trip to my uncle’s place, so he left me a present near my bed. I remember how
happy I was, not because of the present but because he had actually remembered my birthday. It was a gift
from my father to me, and I opened it carefully. A part of me said that I should be happy with whatever I
got, because I knew how busy he was. But another hoped that it was something different to the Red-bean
and Green-tea sweets he usually gave me. I was pleasantly surprised and overjoyed when I saw the contents.
Bubbling with excitement, I stared at them for a few, long seconds before carefully placing them in a small
clay container near my window, something given to me by my grandmother many years ago, a place where
I kept all that was special and important to me. Inside it, now sat four figurines; a monk, a monkey, a pig
and a bull. All characters from my favourite story. My father must have overheard me speaking to my
grandfather about how I loved those four characters, or perhaps seen me constantly gazing at them, shining
majestically in their newly painted bodies. They were the newest addition to the shop, and I was the first
child to receive them.
Chapter 2
Everyday one realises things, but it is rare to have a life-changing realisation.
And that is exactly what happened. That is a lot for just one week; one tiring, busy week. I knew it meant
something. Something beyond the meaning I had perceived it to be till now.
I was always taught that magic was not real, but sometimes, what we think is fantasy is actually real.
That night, I had a dream. It was no surprise that my dream was about “The Journey to the West’’. They
had just finished their journey, and the story should have ended, but here, there was something that I hadn’t
been told before. A new part of the story. The voices were draining out, but I was able to catch what they
were saying . “Go find….” the Monk begun, “bring it back…”
“....lost… destroyed….” the Bull said, his image slowly fading.
“Beware…. jealousy…. regret... ” I heard, not knowing who said it, though it might have been the Pig.
“Go to the… west…”