Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 4 - 7 2018 | Page 59

ETA: 11 Hours
Thank God, she’s finally drifted off. Now I’ll be able to put on a movie. I’ve been waiting to do that since I
first boarded this plane and caught sight of all the monitors. My eyes are feeling kind of itchy and gummy. I
think I’m starting to go blind from attempting to make sense of my reading material.
Now, what do we have here? Hmm, “Chinese Cinema”. Everything here is really boring. Red Cliff ?
Thanks, but I’ve had enough of the classics for today. A bunch of guys plotting to kill each other is hardly
the most creative idea under the sun. I haven’t heard much about these other titles either, so they can’t be
that good.
“Western Cinema”, then. Oh, cool. I’ve been meaning to watch more Marvel movies. Their trailers always
look and sound awesome - very, well, cinematic and grand. I’d prefer to watch them in order of continuity,
though, and not all of them are offered here, so maybe later. And hey, so that’s the one Dad was saying he
watched before on his business trip flight to Sweden. The thumbnail looks decent, too, and there’s Gerard
Butler and Morgan Freeman... Might as well give it a try.
I tap the touchscreen. London Has Fallen is starting, so I settle in my seat and ready myself for an enjoyable
one hour and thirty-nine minutes of action-thriller relaxation.
ETA: 8 Hours
...There are people chatting. What time is it? Must have fallen asleep.
The world’s all blurry. Someone’s turned on an overhead light in the front. It’s stabbing through my eyelids.
My head aches. My back is sore. There’s a crick in my neck. I turn over. The left arm rest jabs into my ribs.
A giggle floats its way over. Who’s awake at this ungodly hour?
I turn over again and try to get comfortable. I fail. Giving up sleep as a bad job, I sit up and open my eyes.
Someone laughs. It echoes through the still air of the air cabin. A series of incomprehensible noises follows.
Only after a moment does my tired brain realise that it’s some girl speaking English.
“He dies at the end of that episode,” she reveals, grave and serious, like she’s imparting the secrets of the
universe. I peek out towards the front aisle, and spot a head full of glimmering golden curls bobbing under
the light. I’d love to have hair like that. Besides me, the corners of Mom’s eyes twitch a little.
“No!” A scandalised gasp, mixed with choked cackling. “Stop it with the spoilers, Lizzie, you’re killing
me,” says the second girl. She sighs, long and deep, full of soulful disappointment. “I was so rooting for him
to take the throne, too.” Her words are clear, distinct and well-rounded, with a nice throaty undertone and
an unidentifiable something to it that makes me want to nod along. I frown. I would never be able to sound
that way, with such lightness, with such confidence, as if the world were at my feet.
“Hmm, sure.” I practically hear the first girl smiling. “By the way, next episode, there’s an attack on--”
She’s interrupted by an urgent shriek. They’re scuffling now, I can tell, from the shadows they’re casting and
the scraping of fingernails on cloth. Mom pushes herself up and peers over to the front. She’s squinting.
“Go back to sleep,” she offhandedly orders, “It’s late.”
I roll my eyes, but I comply. They’re still chattering. It’s kind of like the background noise you can find in
Hollywood films. Soothing, almost. I run over my list of things to do and people to see once we’re at New
York, and gradually enter the sweet embrace of slumber.
ETA: 5 Hours
It’s unfortunate me for that Mom’s an early riser. I’d been hoping to watch another movie after thoroughly
enjoying my previous pick - maybe Independence Day: Resurgence, since I saw a lot of posters for it back
when it was still showing in cinemas. Can’t exactly do that with her gazing expectantly