Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 4 - 7 2018 | Page 119

“Just shut up and keep walking!” Monkey snapped.
“Oooh someone’s grouchy.” Pigsy laughed.
“We’re nearly there.” Sandy informed seeing the tip of the statue from afar. Another five minutes took them
up close to the statue. It was a breathtaking sight, one that would be in their memories forever.
“So now what do we do?” Pigsy asked. “Hello, Buddha? Are you there?”
They waited in silence with no answer from the statue.
“I don’t think this Buddha is real.” Monkey whispered, letting go of all the hope he put into this one,
inanimate object.
“Monkey is right. This place is closing soon, we should go.” Xuanzang added, concealing his
disappointment.
“No, it can’t be, we came all this way for nothing?” Pigsy whimpered. Slowly, they started walking down
the steps in the misty darkness, avoiding the question that was in their mind.
“It wasn’t for nothing.”
“Of course, it was.” Pigsy answered. “Wait, who said that?”
Instantly, turning around, they saw the Big Buddha sitting in its place smiling down at them.
“You have all done well in this journey to the 21st century. You all have shown courage, perseverance and
loyalty to your Master. For that, you have all earned yourselves a reward. For you, Sandy, you have gained
the Monk’s Spade.” A long, crescent moon shaped shovel appeared in front of him, putting itself in his
hands.
“For you, Pigsy, you have gained the Nine-tooth Iron Rake.” This time, a long rake-like weapon
appeared in front of them, handing itself to Pigsy.
“And lastly, Monkey, you have gained the Compliant Golden-Hooped Rod.” A tiny needle sized stick
appeared.
“Um... thanks...” Monkey said, taking the tiny stick.
“Monkey, command the staff to be bigger and you’ll see.” As Monkey followed his instructions, his needle
quickly grew into a red and gold staff.
“Make good use of these weapons to protect your Master as you continue your way to the West. I wish you
good luck in your search for the scriptures. Now, it is time for you to leave the 21st century and return to
the 7th century.”
“Wait, what about my fishba-” Pigsy pleaded.
Before he could finish his sentence, they were transported back to the small cottage, beneath the roaring
storm.