Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction Group 3 - 2017 | Page 234

“Why?”
“I do not know child, but I have heard the British soldiers are planning to do something horrible to young girls.”
“He’s not like that, anyway, I have nothing to do with him.”
“Good. Do not tell anyone I told you this, please, I beg of you. Now go young child. ” Then she continued begging,
looking towards the dusty ground, when she lifted her head up again it was like she was looking through me.
Her words replayed in my head over and over again. It just didn’t make sense, the boy, he’s such an innocent young man.
He can’t be that bad, but then mother always tells me not judge someone by his looks.
It’s not like I’m getting close to him or anything? Right? I thought.
I continue my journey home, I lean on the wall to tighten my red shoes. I notice a piece of white paper sticking out of
them, then I realized I’m making dinner tonight. I quicken my pace, still walking, because I can’t run in traditional
Chinese clothing. Grandma spent ages making this dress for me, it’s still my favourite one although there are holes here
and there. I turn the corner and head towards the noisy market. Taking a deep breath, the sweet apple scent reaches my
nose. As I smile in delight, I unfold the shopping list and off I go.
It’s been two months since I talked to the young soldier who helped me multiple times before. I didn’t get the chance,
because I’ve been dogging all the other soldiers, who have hit and slapped me. So far so good. While he’s on duty,
wearing his green uniform, if he passes me, he gives me one of his amazing small smiles. I try not to smile back, but it’s
just so sweet. Just like the candy we used to share. Xin Xin and I, but that was long before we became enemies. It was a
terrible mistake I made once, when we went on holiday. I tried everything to make it up to her, but she just wouldn’t
forgive me. And that’s how it’s been ever since. The old lady’s words play over and over in my head, she said, “Whatever
you do, do not trust the young man who helped you today.”
I was walking home from school after a long and tiring day, during the last lesson we were learning how to sow, it still
didn’t work for me. The girl on the right of me, finished piece after piece, sowing and stitching. Her needle work was
amazing, the product she produced was absolutely breathtaking. The girl on my left, she was even worse than I was.
She kept pricking her finger with the sharpened, silvery and solid needle while putting her thread through the hole of
the needle. I walked past a dark alley when a pair of pale hands shot out and grabbed me. The muffled voice said only
one word, “Sorry,” Then, the person pressed a handkerchief to my mouth to stop me screaming. Some else came behind
me and tied me up, the ropes rubbed into my wrists, then before I could even try to fight back, they threw me into a
bag.
I was kidnapped.