Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction Group 3 | Page 215

The Ending Note
Shanghai Singapore International School, Gurkan, Defne - 14
As the supposed next voyage of the Ming Treasure Voyages approached, I was very excited. I listened to the
news my dad told me every day as it got closer and closer. Every night he came home, he told us all he’d
heard about them. I always listened quietly, waiting every night for his news. When there was about a
month left before they went on another voyage, my dad formally announced that they’re running short on
staff. My imagination went off and my thoughts went to them taking me on their voyages. My mouth
slowly formed a smile and my dad called me out, saying “Hey, Sandra! Don’t even think about getting on
that boat. You’re 9 years old! And anyways you’re going nowhere because we need you for work in the
house! You need to clean the house so your mother can go to work full-time. Do you know how hard
your brother, mother, and I work just for you to have this meal? You will work just as hard and not waste
time cleaning someplace without getting the money for it. You know how many people die every voyage
anyway? Half of the total number going, half the number Sandra!” I frowned, but I knew if I had any
possible chance of becoming staff for one of the Ming Treasure Voyages, I’d take it.
The next morning, I woke up from my fantasies of getting to be a staff member and got ready. I ate
a slice of bread for breakfast happily and started working. I was sweeping the floors while my mom was out
for groceries when somebody knocked harshly on the door. I scampered up to the huge wooden door and
opened it nervously. The mailman stood outside, handed me a little poster and walked off. I didn’t even
have the time to say goodbye or hello. I slowly unrolled the poster only to see that it was from the Ming
Treasure Voyages. The poster said ‘ As of two weeks’ time, we will be choosing 7 able volunteers to go on
our 7 th Voyage towards the African lands. If you are ages of 16-30, please re-send this letter to the same
address to sign up with your name and age. Thank you.’ I smiled and quickly hid the letter underneath my
mattress before my parents came home. I then went back to sweeping the floors and sung underneath my
breath. I sung the beautiful song of the birds and the song of the flowers, brushing and moving together
with the wind. My father came home and caught me singing that very afternoon. He yelled at me with
veins popping out of his throat, spit coming from his open mouth, and redness forming around his bulging
blue eyes. I cried and cried until he dismissed me. And that night, I filled in the form on the poster, my tears
unable to stop falling on the ink and smudging it.
It had been a couple weeks since I’d submitted my form, and even though the writing had been
smudged, I thought it was still readable. I’d lied about my age, saying I was 16, and hoping to fool them
with my height. The thought of them just ripping it in half or realizing I’m 9 kept crossing my mind and
making me nervous. The boat would be leaving in around a week, meaning that the winners might already
have been chosen. I went over to my cousin’s house that night, not wanting to be around my parents. She’d
also signed the form on the poster and was waiting for a reply. There was a quick knock on her door shortly
after her telling me she signed up too, and we looked at each other’s eyes. It was the mailman with a single
note.
While watching my cousin board the ship, I screamed yet another time “Send me a note every
week!”. A mail boat would be coming with the Ming Treasures Voyage, and would go back every Saturday
to deliver any news of excitement or grief. I held tears of jealousy and misery back while waving goodbye to
my cousin, thinking how it’d be if it were me walking to the boat. We waited until the boat was out of
sight to leave, me walking with my hair in front of my face, head down, and tears slowly hitting the floor.
One week later, she sent me a note that arrived on Tuesday. It read:
Hey Sandra,
I’m writing this late at night so don’t mind my horrid handwriting. I met a couple of the people
here and they’re really welcoming. A man called Josh is being especially nice though. Even though it’s nice,
I feel like something might be a little off with everyone on the boat. It’s probably just me. Never mind
about that. I hope this’ll come to you sooner than when I send my next letter. I love you, and wish you
could’ve been here.
Goodnight
-Juliet
I smiled through watery eyes and slowly re-folded the note. I put it in my cup board and realized how
sloppy and rushed the last part of the note was. It seemed like she’d just ended it as quickly as she could. I
pondered curiously about why that might’ve been. Since I couldn’t write back, that night I dreamed that
we’d met and that she’d come back.