Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction Group 3 - 2017 | Page 329

funeral; there was a big storm, and only a few people bothered to show up in the rain. The rain and her tears had formed
as one entity, consuming her. She had moved away to forget, to stop being the sole focus of her parents, her parents who
refused to forget.
There was a light glowing near the end of the alley that caught the girl’s eye, and she slowly approached a large
moon gate. Writt en on the interior curve of the gate in small, delicate strokes was a character she understood– “家.”
Cocking her head, she traced the lines of the character and wondered why anyone would write ‘home’ in a dark,
forgotten alley.
After a few moments, she realized she was standing in front of a garden. Her fingers slid off the gate as if she
were in a trance. She blinked once, twice, gazing at the nature. Hesitantly, she stepped onto a stone path that led to a
small pond. Rocks settled between the glistening water and the gentle trees. Noticing the leafy shadows on the ground,
the girl looked up at the sky, caught sight of the sunlight that seeped in through the cracks of the trees, and was
mesmerized by the sparkling rays.
The garden reminded her of her hometown, only it was in the heart of a city. Now, alone, she was no longer
restless without her brother. She was content–almost happy–something she hadn’t felt since her brother’s death. Maybe
he had passed away for a reason; perhaps it was so she could find the space between heaven and earth. She had wanted
the move to Shanghai to be a fresh start, and she was starting to believe it.
The girl started to take slow steps toward a small stone bridge. Peering at the water, the girl saw dozens of
golden fish in the pond. Their silk-like tails softly brushed the water, creating soft ripples. She sat down on the railing
and dangled her legs over the water, her feet mere centimeters above the surface. A lazy smiled stretched across her lips
as she closed her eyes, breathing in the smell of the trees, of the fresh air. Here, there was no noise, no garble. There was
only the sound of nature: the whistle of the wind as it playfully rustled the leaves and the gentle murmur of the water
beneath her.
Thinking back to her hometown, she realized that she hadn’t felt at home in the suburbs but with her brother.
Her mind drifted back to the wisp of a word printed on the moon gate and understood that “home” was the only word
that could describe such a place. She felt like she belonged, and there wasn’t anyone to push her around or hover over
her constantly. For her, being in the garden made everything feel natural and easy. The branches of the tree swayed in
harmony, as did the clouds as they lazily drifted across the sky.
The girl didn’t know why she eventually stood up and walked back toward the moon gate, why she left her
hidden garden for the dark alley that enclosed her. There was something in her bones that guided her through the moon
gate, into the darkness, and out of the alley. When she stepped out, she was unable to play off the smile that had sneaked
onto her lips. Still slouched near a doorway, the old man regarded the girl curiously. He opened his mouth, but instead
of speaking, he closed it again and watched the girl in front of the alley. Just as she was about to rejoin the other
pedestrians, the old man tapped her leg. Surprised, the girl spun around to face him.
“Little girl,” the old man croaked. The girl’s eyes widened. The strange man spoke her language. “What were
you doing in that alley?
The girl smiled before replying, “I was admiring the garden.” At the old man’s silence, the girl turned her
attention back to the crowd and became a part of the sea of people once again.
The old man furrowed his brow, wrinkles creasing his forehead. He murmured to himself, “What garden?”