Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction Group 3 - 2017 | Page 44

gasp for air. She remained motionless, eyes closed. Elisa hurried through the water. She had lost her shoes to the mud,
and her bare feet sunk into the soft ground and hit the small stones at the bottom of the pond.
Goldfish swarmed around her, something she had not noticed before. Elisa struggled to reach the bank of the pond,
her bare feet scratching the rough surface of the rocks. She hoisted the child up in her arms. The girl was small and
fragile, her face cold as ice to the touch and her legs too short to reach the pond floor. The crowd cheered, some
eagerly waiting at the rocky bank, and pulled the little girl and Elisa out.
As soon as she climbed out, the girl was taken away. Elisa looked up and saw the mother holding the girl tight, her
husband in tears, “It’s all my fault... I’ll change, I will.”
There was regret, anxiety and gratitude in their eyes. Elisa shivered. She was soaked and barefoot. Water dripped
from her blond hair. As the crowd applauded, Elisa felt embarrassed and tried to make herself as small as possible. To
her relief, Elisa saw her parents hurrying towards her.
“Oh, Eli,” her mother sobbed, “Are you okay? Did you get hurt?”
Elisa’s father took off his coat, blanketing Elisa with a sudden warmth. “That was brave, Elisa,” was all her father said,
as he hugged her tightly.
Elisa looked around. The crowd was celebrating. Squinting, Elisa saw the little girl open her eyes. With an elated
laugh, Elisa realised this was the story she had been looking for.
***
Elisa thought back to that day as she penciled out the girl’s delicate features in her new sketchbook. She finished
sketching the eyelashes; making the eyes appear to be fluttering open.
Sometimes, thought Elisa, the smallest things could tear a family apart, and the worst of tragedies could help reunite a
family. For months, Elisa had been trying to weave a story into her drawings of the beautiful scenery of Yu Garden,
but her efforts, her experience, and her feelings that day were what she had been desperately searching for. She found
meaning in her new sketches.
Setting the portrait of the little girl on the bench, Elisa looked up at the Pavilion, as tourists trailed in and smiled at
her.
She smiled back.