Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction Group 3 | Page 278

The Secret Life of Fiction
West Island School, Eyunni, Gayathri - 13
I was always searching.
Searching for something, but not knowing what it was, or why. I liked to call it a ‘treasure’; an unknown
treasure. I seemed to have a strange connection with treasure, as if I had found many before, even though I
knew that to be false. I sometimes wondered if I had a past life, if I was reincarnated. But others begged to
differ, it was a distant possibility that seemed true in my mind, but a mere fantasy in everyone else's…
It wasn’t money.
My troops were ready. The mighty three-hundred-and-seventeen ships had already been lined up
glamorously by the shore, as well as the sixty mammoth treasure ships, ready to receive and hold the world’s
wonders. I stood by the shore and looked up at my ship, where I would spend the coming months. To live
on a boat, excited me in some ways. But as I pondered the purpose of this voyage, my excitement
somewhat died. Did we really need this material wealth?
It wasn’t jade.
My parents always said that we were ‘losing our heritage’. I always thought they had magical powers,
figuratively, of course. But one day, it seemed as though they were real sorcerers, evil ones, that too. I
believed that they cursed my mind, so that I would only think of the past. The thoughts came one at a time,
slowly, as if time itself was taking it’s time. When I narrated these stories to my mother, she brushed them
away like dirt. It went through one ear, came out the other. I knew that they were flashes, not just thoughts,
because I had never learned about them before, but they seemed to be true. Every detail, as if I were truly
present in the past…
It wasn’t silver.
I went aboard the main ship, ready for the third voyage. I tried my best to stimulate excitement within my
troops, but keeping my own spirits up was a challenge. I looked forward to a new adventure, but I wanted
something more, anything more. I planned a life of adventure for myself, but it seemed as if I was confined
to the rules and regulations of this community. We had forty-eight elephantine ships, majestic like a tusker,
carrying thirty-thousand soldiers, all wearing the same uniform, mostly the same height, similar stature, yet
their personalities were unique, each one different from anyone else, no two were the same. Just like our
voyages, all for a similar purpose, but with a different outcome each time. I somehow wished that the
purpose was different as well.
It wasn’t gold.
The idea that I had a past life grew stronger in my mid. It had to be the truth. The voyages were real,
anyone who believed otherwise was definitely wrong. They were stories written in stone. I wasn’t sure of
my identity, but every time another flash appeared, I felt a part of the story. I was there. But who was I? The
question lingered deep below, like a devil that grew stronger in the darkness, waiting for the right moment
to emerge into the light and scream…
It wasn’t pride.
Plans to extend the scope of these voyages even further led to the fourth voyage. I resolved to attempt to
enjoy it, the new treasures, the searches, the atmosphere of the ship, the salty breeze that engulfed the deck
every time a wave passed by us, the stale fish that strangely tasted wonderful when our stomachs growled
like lions. But how could I? The kingdom, already the greatest in the world, did not need more of these
extravagant adventures and treasures. It needed a different kind of wealth, but what?
It wasn’t fame.