Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction Group 3 - 2017 | Page 366

Withering Flowers
St. Mary's Canossian College, Cheung, Heron - 14
“H
e isn’t my Father,”
“He isn’t the Father I used to know.”
Yan, the young boy, couldn’t help but toss and turn in his bed. Because of the horrible, depressing thoughts
swirling in his head, he didn’t have a good night’s sleep. Oh, what’s sleep anyway?
“That blasted drug?” a flashback with his friend, Yanzhu, popped into his head, disturbing his sleep again, “It’s called Opium.
Opium’s made from some flowers…I’m not really sure…wait a minute…” The sympathetic look from his friend stabbed him so
hard in the chest, he froze, “Good grief…”
Don’t. Please, don’t say it.
“So your father…is a drug addict as well?” Yan choked back the tears that were flowing out and tried to shove the flashback
deep down where he could never find it again, but that look of disbelief from Yanzhu haunted him so much as if it were clinging
to his brain and not letting go.
“Now, Yan,” a friendly voice echoed in his mind, “put your hands around the plant like this…yes, just like that. And…pull! There
you go! Yan, you’ve plucked your first plant. I’m proud to have you as my son…” He smiled, only to feel even worse when the
realization of not experiencing happy moments like that again struck him.
Not long later, the sudden hit of tobacco made him jolt up. His father had awoken, and the first, absolute thing that he had to do
was to inhale the “sweet, freshening” smoke. “His condition is getting worse…” Yan whispered to himself.
He had never been so frightened of the grunts and loudening footsteps heading towards his room, and standing in front of him,
was his Father. The whites of his eyes were gleaming pink and dried up slobber stuck to the bottom of his mouth. Yan backed
away and curled up into a little ball, hoping to disappear when he saw a whip hanging around his father’s grip.
“Mind your own business, you fool!”
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
Qing, the younger sister of Yan, placed their handmade ointment on his fresh wounds, which were spreading a tinted red across
his limbs. “I think Father’s too harsh on you, Yan,” Qing said, trying her best to avoid the awkward tension in the atmosphere. “I
mean,” she stuttered a lot, which made Yan think if he had a terrifying expression on his face, “look at your wounds…they look
like they’re popping out.”
Why do people have to pity me so often?
He decided to ignore his sister’s comment, even if he knew that he was being rather impolite. “If you want to help out, go out
and do my share of work first. I’ll catch up with yours later.” His younger brother Yijun jolted back, as if he had hidden very well
while he eavesdropped. But he obeyed anyway. As Qing led him out to their farmland, they started their work hurriedly.
“Would you abandon me, Father?”
“I would never do that, I promise.”
“Father’s such a liar, and he really is merciless now, isn’t he?” He dared not speak out loud. Father seemed to be everywhere,
watching every action of his, and his presence made Yan uncomfortable. Unlike before, when he was the most ideal father you
could ask for.