Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction Group 3 | Page 216

The next week, there was no note. I waited excitedly, leaning on the door on Tuesday. No note
came for Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, or Saturday. On Saturday night, when I stopped hanging near the
door, waiting for the mailman, I re-read the note she first sent me. ‘ A man called Josh is being especially
nice though.’ Had she gotten together with Josh, becoming too busy to write to her cousin for a week? Did
Josh do something to her? ‘ Even though it’s nice, I feel like something might be a little off with everyone
on the boat’ What was off? Who gave her those feelings? Did the people do something bad to her?
Thoughts like this kept running through my mind. I slowly scared myself of what might’ve happened to her.
Mom knocked on my door to tell me to sleep, as we were attending a special event tomorrow. She told me
I should dress up and not wear bright colours, as it would be rude.
I woke up the next morning by the pounding of small and big rain droplets on the beautiful tulips
my mom had planted a few days prior. I got up and watched the rain hit the ground and slowly start
forming a puddle. I watched the clear rain’s colour hitting the ground and becoming grey. I watched the
rain water our grass. I watched the rain hit my mom and follow her around as she got our mail. I watched
the rain keep going with its strong hits on our ground, dominating the grounds. I watched the rain
mercilessly keep pounding our tulips, until they’d die. I got up, and washed away the rain that had fallen on
our floor from my face and glumly changed in to a brown dress. I brushed my hair harshly and brushed my
teeth. I slowly and steadily walked towards the door and checked our mail. Only one letter was present. A
letter of grief and sad thoughts. I frowned even more than I was earlier and sat down. My mom dragged me
back to my feet a couple minutes later and dragged me out of the house, all the way to the ‘special event’.
I watched the rain, and only rain. I watched how innocently it hit us, but never stopped even
when we didn’t want it here. I watched how there might be someone huge up there, just crying, and all his
tears hitting us humans. I watched and prayed the giant would be safe. I named the giant Eddie and watched
how sad he must be to cry so much. I watched how sad I was, figuring out this morning why I shouldn’t
wear bright colours. I watched as I thought of how much Eddie would have to cry to cry a sea. I wondered
about myself three weeks ago, wanting to switch places with my cousin. And now my cousin was dead, she
was dead with all the rest of the crew. She was dead and we didn’t even have a proper goodbye because of
my jealousy towards her ‘luck’. That could’ve been me. That could’ve been me who sunk with the boat.
That could’ve been me who died without a goodbye. It could’ve been me.