Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 4567 | Page 112

Rain
Island School, Lee, Priscilla - 14
T
he rain was cold tonight, pinpricks of numbing needles piercing my flesh, bone and marrow. A deafening
silence ensued, broken only by the pitter-patter of droplets, gracefully tumbling onto the ashen cobblestones
below. Warm droplets rolled down my cheeks, and instinctively, I raised my hands to my face, the scalding sorrows
a clear contrast against the cool droplets.
“Cigarette, xiong di?”
I turned abruptly, surprised at the sudden intrusion.
“I just thought you looked sad.” A boy no older than 10 approached wearily, soot and grime smeared all over his
face. “So, cigarette?”
I sat down with a heavy sigh. “Sure, why not.” Rummaging my pockets for spare change, I dropped the coins in
the child’s palm, exchanging it for the temporary relief I desperately craved. My fumbling fingers eventually lit the
damn thing alight, and I took a long drag of the poison, exhaling gray wisps of smoke that dissipated in the cool air.
The boy plopped down next to me. “So, policeman huh?”
I didn’t respond, taking another long drag.
“Where are you from? Ying guo?”
“Why are you crying? Is it because you’re homesi-”
“Look, kid, I’d appreciate it if you would just be quiet for a moment.” I snapped back, my patience wearing thin.
The boy shrank back, his dark eyes flashing with a mixture of fear and apprehension. “Sorry, sir.” He mumbled.
I grimaced, a twinge of guilt nipping at me. “Yes, I’m from England.” I spat, lifting the cigar to my lips for another
drag. “I’m here because I thought I had nothing else to lose in this bloody country.”
The boy grinned as if he hadn’t heard me. “See? I knew I could get you to answer me!” He clambered round, his
cheeks wide from obvious delight. “I’m glad you’re so nice, Mr. Policeman! I’m LeLe, by the way, and if you’re
sad, you can tell me anything you want to! Mama said that I’m the best at keeping secrets!” He gestured to himself
proudly. “So you can tell me anything!”
I snorted, turning my gaze up to the dark sky, littered with specks of silver lights filtering in from the dark canvas,
wrapping the world comfortably in its embrace. The pinpricks of light blinked, its dim presence a stark contrast to
the ethereal beauty of the moon. Unlike the stars, her beauty was radiant, casting a silvery glow across the dark
world below.
A shining beacon of hope for all those who needed it.