Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 4-7 2019 | Page 221

Forward, Take On
St. Paul's Convent School, Cheung, Ka Yu - 16
The world beyond the safe zone has always intrigued me. I can imagine numerous lands which I cannot
count even with all my fingers and toes combined; even more people to meet and friends to make.
“Curiosity kills the cat,” they say.
One will easily fall into the trap of a seemingly brighter, livelier unknown, and end up losing what one
already has in possession. Family, wealth, name all you can. Because grass is always greener on the other side.
Because you should be grateful for what you have; asking for any more would be considered discourteous.
I knew the adults were only talking big like this so nobody will die trying again, but what else was I
supposed to think if all I had left was nothing but to be seen as a burden? Would anyone in this village come
for me if I tried leaving? Or would they celebrate because they no longer had to deal with me?
“Brat! Dinner is ready are you coming or not?” Mrs. Chiu slammed open the door and barged in my room
with a scowl. Dust bunnies flew, several worn-out books threatened to fall off the near-empty shelf. I did
not remember when the last time I had seen her act was, in any way, pleasant to me; or rather, anyone at all.
I remained sitting in the moldy corner of the room in hopes that she would be fed up and leave. I was only
going to get bashed for being a “curse” and wasting their food anyway so there was no point for me to be
there.
“God, are you even listening? You’re just like your parents. If only they listened maybe they would still be
here and I don’t have to feed a useless good-for-nothing like you! Do you know how much of a burden
you are? Our family’s money used to buy food for your filthy mouth could’ve been used to send all of my
sons to school. I would’ve gotten rid of you a long time ago if not for the rubbish laws.”
She strode in front of me, looking down on me with a face full of disgust. “No one wants you here. I am
going to leave you out to die on the street once you turn sixteen so I don’t have to see your sorry face again
in my life,” she jabbed me on my forehead and left huffing.
She was right.
No one wanted me here.
No one in their right mind would ever want something that belonged in hell.
I did not eat dinner that night. The cold December wind howled and looked for prey to satiate its
uncontrollable hunger while I laid beneath the thin, roughly knitted piece of cloth I called a blanket which
hardly protected me from the cold. Darkness enveloped me as I descended into a dreamless slumber.
You can say it was my escape, a place more welcoming, a place where I can just unreservedly exist.
Sometimes, I wondered if I could one day sleep and never have to wake up again.
The waves seemed especially energetic today. It must feel so delightful to be able to flow boundlessly. There
were only lone fishermen on their long wooden sampans in shallow waters, casting nets and occasionally
singing familiar tunes I could barely hear on the shore. They always brought back warm memories.
Father used to sing it when he went fishing as I stared in awe. Fish came into his net more often like that
somehow, he told me it was the gods rewarding him for his singing. It sounded silly but of course, I