Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 3 2018 | Page 51

What Is A Journey ?
German Swiss International School , Cheng , Edgar - 12

The boy trudged dejectedly into the street , forcefully kicking away a tin can as he did so . The hollow sound echoed through the empty roads like a funeral bell . His eyes were thin and narrow , shadows smoothing beneath them from lack of rest . His limbs were slim but sallow , allowing his ragged uniform to dangle loosely off his frame .

The boy walked with a slight swagger , and yet his hands hung stiffly by his sides . He paced with an urgency , as if he were trying to outrun his past . He looked barely nineteen , and yet he radiated a sense of weariness that seemed so unlike someone of his age .
His gaze finally rested on the building in front of him : The Dynasty Atheneum .
Without hesitation , he strode through the glass doors . The building was cold and empty ; yellow-and-black police tape was strewn around the room , blocking off exits and entries . Scattered haphazardly across the room were shards of shattered glass ; tossed in among them were dozens of books that had been violently pulled from the shelves and lay trailing to a display case at the back .
The boy cautiously made his way across the mess . When he reached the display case , he glanced at the parchment label inside :
[ Journey to the West , Full Volume Original Manuscript ].
He stared , in a grieving trance , at the blank metal stand where the manuscript should have been . Where it would ’ ve been , had things turned out differently .
This had once been Sun ’ s go-to place when his mind wasn ’ t clear ; it had once been a sanctuary of endless hours of reading and learning . Now Sun ’ s mind wasn ’ t just unclear ; it was in a state of turmoil .
“ Running away from your problems isn ’ t going to fix them .”
Sun ’ s ears perked up at the sound of his old friend ’ s voice , then sagged at the implications of his presence . Anticipating a lengthy lecture , Sun swiveled around . Behind him stood a man , only in his mid-forties , but with the wrinkles of an old man . His hair was thin and balding , grey like the feathers of a snow-owl .
“ I ’ m not running . I ’ m … pondering ,” he feebly responded .
“ Pondering our failures ? Or the reason we came back to Hong Kong ? Or , perhaps , the reason we set out on this great journey in the first place ?” the man said with a smile , tinted with sadness and a hint of pride . When he smiled , the edges of his eyes crinkled up like fresh parchment .
“ Why ... why I wasn ’ t good enough . Why I didn ’ t have the courage to confront them .” Sun confessed , with deep regret in his tone . “ Xuan , I could have halted them in their tracks . If I had the willpower to , they couldn ’ t have gotten away .”
“ Brother , it was not your doing . It was not your fault that those heinous thieves escaped . There was nothing you could have done .” From behind Xuan stepped out a second man . He was broad and burly , slightly intimidating , but gentle brown eyes hinted at his benign soul . His most notable feature was his massive girth ; his thin , tattered jacket stretched out over a large pot-belly .
“ Zhu ? Fancy seeing you here .” Sun chuckled weakly . Zhu rarely ever bothered to travel long distances , so it was quite unlike him to come all this way . Then again , he had travelled with them all the way to India and back , so perhaps he had changed his habits .