Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 4-7 2019 | Page 43

And then, pushing a clump of sepia undergrowth aside, he saw the sea, preceded by the golden sand of the coast, staring
in awe of it, thinking that he was so close to finally going home, until the fact that he didn’t have a ship to cross the
unknown sea dawned on him.
Determined to change this, he went to work. Fashioning an axe from a conveniently shaped stone and branch, he
hacked away at the trees in the vicinity, in an attempt to create a raft. Within a day, he had completed his initial design,
setting sail as the sun set, only to be swept overboard. Making a mental note to fasten himself to the raft, he was about
to try again, but decided to rest for the night and gather everything before his ocean-wide traverse.
Looking up at the constellations that night, he could picture an ethereal ship sailing across the starlit sky, reflecting the
impending final stretch of his own journey as he slowly succumbed to the sea of dreams and distant memories, which he
fervently clung to in his mind as he slept through his final night on this fascinating place.
The next morning, he bade the land farewell as a single tear managed to escape his eye over the fact that all things
moved on, and set off across the waves, vowing to come back someday.
As his time at sea passed by, Ma Wen Ming drifted at sea, guided by the wind and his compass, waiting for the first sight
of land.
Until one fateful day, where he spotted a distant coastline, and knew that he was close to China. Making land at the
port, he instantly recognized the architecture of the pier, staggering onto the planked walkway and knowing that he had
finally returned home.
Months later, Ma Wen Ming walked along the shore, his mind utterly cluttered by the constant constraints of the
Imperial Court, until he passed a rickety dock, remembering the year-old promise that he made to the newly
christened continent. Impulsively walking down, he unmoored a boat, punting out of the dock into the open arms of
the Pacific, ready to go back to the place he once knew: Adventure.
Voyage 4:
He opened his eyes and shook off the fatigue of the previous night from his mind, but that dream… it remained, rooted
in the soil of his mind. However, he later set off as life went on like every other day.
Until that alley surfaced in his eyes…
Looking down the alley that he went by on every other day, his eyes were immediately filled with an invasion of light
and color, with the alley radiating a golden glow that seemed to restore the run-down alley to a state only seen in
centuries past. An impulse surfaced in his mind, exacerbating the doubts brought into his train of thought by the dream,
prompting him to walk down the alley, to which his conscious numbly complied.
Going down the alley, with nothing but the steady stream of light to guide him, he turned to see of a dilapidated hangar
near the coastline. Decimating the lock with a wrench, he peered inside, closing the door after him, only to find a
torch. He moved to its spot on the wall with a match in hand, intending to light it.
Just then, the interior lit up, revealing an ornately decorated ship, built from fine, gold-painted wood and revealing
spectral suits of armor on it. A grating voice issued from seemingly empty space. “AS A TRUE ANCESTOR OF THE
GREAT VOYAGER, DO YOU ACCEPT THE HONOR OF CARRYING FORTH THE LEGACY OF YOUR
FAMILY?”
The words dawned on him. Every childhood story told to him, his adeptness in cartography and sailing, it all fit with
the message, and there was only one answer.
He stepped forwards, realizing the unraveling of this story and the fateful circumstances that led to this, and spoke.
“I, Ulysses Ma, will continue what my ancestor started.”
Then everything began.