Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction Group 3 - 2017 | Page 264

New Tales of Old Shanghai
Po Leung Kuk Choi Kai Yau School, Lee, Eunice – 12
M
y summer holiday was totally ruined by my stupid parents! They forced me to go to Shanghai with them, and
now I was being dragged along to an awful ancient antique shop with them! I hate these Chinese pots and plates,
what is so special about them that attract my parents? They are just ugly old stuff. I was almost bored to death
when a dark shadow loomed over me. I glanced backwards, and saw the shop owner standing behind me. He was
tall, thin and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his black
belt. He was wearing a thick long coat which swept the rusty ground, and high heeled boots. His green eyes were light,
bright and twinkling behind half-moon spectacles. His nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken
numerous times. The old shop owner peered at me through his spectacles and smiled. He handed me a pocket watch. It
had a bronze cover, which had some delicate flower patterns on it. I pressed gently on the watch knob and the cover
sprang open, showing a picture of Old Shanghai on it. I stared at the watch, the hands of the watch were not moving.
Curious, I turned the little knob clockwise to wind the watch, trying to set the time. Suddenly, the world around me
whirled and twirled, I felt very dizzy. My surroundings spun faster and faster then everything was still. Totally still.
I looked around, I was still in the antique shop, but my parents were nowhere in sight. ‘Mum? Dad?’ There was no
answer. I looked at the calendar at the shop cashier. 1916? I was a century back in time! I gazed around the shop and
decided that it would be perfectly fine to go outside and explore Old Shanghai. So I turned on my heel and walked
briskly out of the shop. A rickshaw passing by caught my eye. A tired man was pulling the rickshaw with difficulty.
Sweat was dripping down his forehead as he wiped it with the back of his hand. He seemed to be suffering enormously
while trying to draw the rickshaw, where a very rich man was seated comfortably. The rich man was big and beefy with
hardly any neck, although he did have a very large moustache. He seemed to be complaining and shouting at the
rickshaw puller to go faster. I would have giggled uncontrollably at his obesity, but the sight of the poor rickshaw puller
saddened me. I felt very sorry for him, and realised how fortunate I was.
Looking away from the rickshaw, I started strolling along the Shanghai streets. There were night clubs everywhere
as well as street performers. I peeked inside a nearby night club and saw a lady singing inside it. The lady was thin and
blonde with pale skin, her neck was twice longer than usual. She was singing a traditional Chinese opera song in a shrill,
high-pitched voice. I had to cover my ears to prevent her piercing voice hurting my ears. However, everyone in the
club were cheering and applauding in response to the lady’s singing. I ran away from the night club and stopped in front
of a snake charmer, who was about to perform to an excited crowd. The snake charmer was a thin man with sallow skin
and a hooked nose. He was wearing a white turban on his head, sitting on the stone floor in the bustling street, playing a
wooden flute. There was a big basket standing near him, and inside the basket was a cobra. It slowly rose upwards and
swayed from side to side, dancing to the tune played by the snake charmer. The performance was quite interesting, so I
stood there watching the cobra dance for a long time before moving on. As I walked, my surroundings turned darker
and darker; the street became quieter with every step I take; there were fewer and fewer people around me, until
everything was silent, and the lights were so dim I could barely see where I was going.
I walked into a dark alley, curious about what was inside, when I heard muffling voices. I froze in my tracks. A
torch light flashed at me as I turned around to see who was there. I gasped. My heart was beating faster and faster. A
huge man was standing at the end of the alley. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide.
He had long tangles of bushy black hair and beard that hid most of his face. He also had hands the size of dustbin lids
and feet the size of baby sharks. He was wearing a black cloak with thick golden chains around his hairy neck. Judging
by his size and clothing, he was one of the criminal organization gangsters that existed in old Shanghai. My parents told
me all about them, but the huge man was ten times scarier than I imagined. He was h olding a bloody knife. I screamed
at the top of my voice and started to run rapidly, as fast as my legs could carry me. The huge man followed me, stomping
towards me with his gigantic feet. I sprinted quickly through long passages and roads, trying to get away from the huge
man, but I was just like an ant to him. I got out of breath and my legs were like jelly. However, the huge man was only a
few miles away from me by now. There was a dead end in front of me. I panicked. What should I do? Would I die under
his sharp blade? I searched in my pockets franticly, desperate to find something to defend myself against the huge man.
Unfortunately, there were only tissues and some paper scraps inside. I dug deeper in my pockets, when I finally touched