Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction Group 3 - 2017 | Page 518

"Oh..."
The children gazed upwards at the watchtowers. Then they turned and looked back at the sea, with its shimmering waves and its vast expanse of
water. Heads bowed low, they walked reluctantly back to the gates, and they watched with water-filled eyes as the iron gates were sealed shut once
more.
Then one of the children cried out in distress. "Xu!"
"What?"
"She's still locked inside the schoolhouse."
The children halted suddenly and froze where they stood, the sound of laughter abruptly stopping as an icy wave of guilt washed over them. Their
faces, full of joy a minute ago, were now pale and gloomy, and the memory of gentle blue waves faded from their minds, replaced by the image of a
desperate, pleading girl locked inside a dark room.
Together, they trudged into the schoolhouse, dreadfully quiet. None of them spoke. They stood in the hallway and listened.
Behind the back room door, there was only silence.