Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction Group 3 - 2017 | Page 403

“After I died,” the figure replied, “the Ghost King sent me to collect the souls of dead people. There are many more of us. Ben,
love, you are lucky that I am the one to come here today. You will still pass away—your time is here. But I know you fear death. I
know you want something.” Hannah leaned closer to him. “I can grant your last wish.”
“Real—really?” Ben couldn’t keep the excitement out of his voice. He knew what he wanted. “I want to go to the past, present
and future of Shanghai. This is our home, we lived here, and I would love to see again how it looked and how it will look. Take
me to see the beautiful sceneries.”
In the place of the dark figure was a young woman, about twenty, with flowing black hair and inquisitive eyes. “Hannah—,” Ben
managed, then he felt himself grow taller. Suddenly he too was twenty, a handsome young man. Hannah was real now, and she
slipped her hand into his. With that time began to swirl around. The room became a blur.
They were in the middle of nowhere. Then Ben’s sight began to zoom in, until he could see Earth, until he saw the continents,
until he saw Old Shanghai. Together, Ben and Hannah were hovering in midair, a young couple floating—what a sight to
behold!
They went back to a long time ago, when Shanghai was just a small settlement, before photos were invented. It was a rapt place,
people milling about playing with and helping each other. A simple but enjoyable lifestyle it was! Ben and Hannah glided silently
above, watching the people live happily. IT was the lifestyle Ben always enjoyed—people in the present wore a mask every day,
like Shakespeare had said—“All the world’s a stage, and everyone’s an actor.” Behind each face was a façade of emotions hidden
from the world’s prying eyes, not like the pure and true people living back then.
Time seemed to pass before Ben’s eyes, until things became more recent, old memories that he still remembered. Then Hannah
whispered to Ben, “There we are!”
Ben let out a small gasp; it was him and Hannah when they were eighteen, at the peaceful village known as Nanxun Ancient
Town. The water glistened under the sunlight where the Ben of the past, on a boat ready to set sail, was speaking to Hannah who
was onshore. Behind them was a crisscross of canals and bridges. Traditional Chinese and Western traditions stood to their full
height behind the two, who were locked in deep conversation.
“Ben, don’t leave! Please, we’ve just graduated from school!”
“I must leave. It is my destiny, to be a photographer to capture the beautiful moments of humanity.”
“But—then—promise me you will return! Please, I can’t lose you!” Hannah blurted.
Ben walked over to her, touching her face with his hands, replied, “I promise. I will always come back for you, no matter the
cost,” he smiled as he waved goodbye.