Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 4 - 7 2018 | Page 194

New Journeys to the West
St. Paul's Convent School, Tsang, Annalise Ching Hei - 15
I
Chapter 1: Prologue
was five at that time. Standing next to the Grand Master, Tong SamZhong, at the backyard, trying to
imitate his tai-chi moves. My stubby arms mirrored the movements of the master’s, though clumsier and
shakier. It didn’t matter to us though. Despite my failure in imitation, he looked down and smiled at me
as though I was his pride and joy. I pushed on, determined to win his approval. However, I was greeted by a a
pair of dispassionate eyes, dripping with vile disappointment. I shrivelled as the master flouted, “You’ll never
be as good as WuKong. A monkey is far more intelligent and flexible than a blunt leopard. I should never had
taken you under my wing.” These words rang in my head like a bell, echos that would haunt me forever.
A sheen of sweat covered my back as I bolted upright, breathless and refusing to acknowledge the tears
rolling down my face. I’ve had the exact same nightmare last night, and the night before, and the one before
that. It started with that accursed self-proclaimed Monkey King, Sun WuKong joint the training a few
months ago. The darkness in my room felt strangely disorienting and overwhelming all of a sudden, like a
suffocating ocean, drowning me in forgetfulness and negligence. I found a sense of comfort at the storm
raging outside the window, maybe because it resembled the whirlwind in my head. My eyelids grew heavier
and heavier as the rhythm of raindrops lulled me to sleep. But deep inside, I know, I would only be reliving
the same nightmare until I violently jerk awake once more, drowning in my own cold sweat.
In my fluttering sleep, the night storm was replaced by a scorching sun, and once more, it hid my nightmare
temporarily. I went over my usual routine of getting up and taking a cold shower without a trace of fear and
sadness from last night. As my padded paws soundlessly walked down the stairs, the living room was strangely
empty. My head tilted in confusion as I searched over the whole house.
“…It’s time…You were meant to be… scroll at the West-most mountain…” I picked up fragments of the
master’s hushed voice as I walked past his room. I held my breath and stayed outside, eavesdropping.
“…Me? Alone?” gasped a familiar voice. The same irritating voice that haunts my dream every single night.
The voice of Sun WuKong.
As I listened on on their conversation, my nerves twitched with jealousy. My lips bled from my sharp teeth
biting down on them. I held my exploding anger under control and tiptoed away, silently plotting, scheming,
calculating.
Chapter 2: Deceit
“Think about it,” I added to my previous statement, “if we go together, we double the chance of success. At
the end of the day, what Master Tong wanted us to achieve is world peace, right? So why does it matter who
gets the scroll, am I right?” I draped my arm across his shoulder, tolerating the disgust that struck me as I
touched his fur.
“I need someone like you? Oh please!” he scoffed, straightening his back. “I’ll have to turn down your offer.
The master says I go alone. And that is exactly what I’m going to do.” Annoyance seethed through my veins
at this egotistical obnoxious monkey.
“But, but,” I continued in a honeyed voice as I leaned in closer, “if we go together, you would be known as
the leader. Whereas if you go alone, you would be known as the lone traveller. Even worse, touch-wood, you
could die without anyone to tell your legacy!” I gasped in pretended shock. “I’ve been hearing rumours
flying around. You know, just little things like ‘WuKong is a nobody who brags about his powers’. But who
cares, right? You and I know that you’re better than listening to these petty comments. People are going to
talk, though. So let’s spread some positive rumours, like you’re a great leader and whatnot is probably going
to get rid of these annoyingly petty comment. It’s your choice though. I admire your honour.”