Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction Group 3 - 2017 | Page 416

“ 23rd June,1917
What a beautiful sight to behold,
a scenery of gold,
ravishing and entrancing;
bewitching and captivating;
Why don’t we dance,
In this song of endless romance? ”
“Seems like someone had a crush then...” I smiled unconsciously, examining the half-faded picture of the man’s silhouette. Who
doesn’t love romance? “What directions can I get from a poem though...” I sighed as I proceeded to the Bund, the location of a
mark on the map that can be clearly seen. The turquoise-blue seawater in front of me prompted me to flip the page.
“ 5 th October, 1932
The Japanese officially took over Old Shanghai. My world turned upside down. I still remember the screams and shouts of
soldier in the cold malevolent air, the gunshots and explosions which startled the kids, especially LingXin, the remains of our
bombed house from the underground emergency shelter… We have no idea what the future holds. Even if we all survive this
war, we had no home, no capital, absolutely nothing. Laogong suggested he’d bring Li Shun with him to find refuge in Hong
Kong, but that means separation, and I might never see my laogong and son again. What a despair.”
I remember my mum telling me about this famous beach that she always goes to when something is bothering her. On the day
papa and my gege LiShun departed, she must have come here too. I involuntarily frowned as I picked up a family portrait. The
vibrant smiles of my family pulled my heartstrings, triggering a wave of emotions as I caressed the photograph dearly. I am the
only one left now. I missed papa and gege dearly. I grimaced, rubbing the stone on my necklace which was a usual habit when I
feel down or nervous. A loose piece of paper danced in the wind and landed gracefully in the sand.
“ 21 st December, 1933
The whispers of the wind can seem as sinister as the murky midnight sky. Four silhouettes became two on a shingle beach. The
sea dashes the sand and retreats, the spiritless sky and the featureless waterscape reflecting my soul’s emptiness. It stings my heart
with its saline touch. The seagulls’ trident cries are brash in the faltering light, reminding me of the screams on the battlefield.
Dear Lord, why must you send them away from me? ”
A pang of shame washed over me for not taking mama’s last wish seriously. My tears were camouflaged by the beginning of a
hard rain as I awakened from my trance, shoving the diary under my cardigan and sprinting off to search for the nearest shelter.