Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction Group 3 | Page 244

Seize the Day
St. Paul's Convent School, Chan, Yi Lam - 13
Zhao Ai-Ping was a quiet man. He and his wife kept to themselves and didn’t talk much, not even to each
other. She didn’t like talking and he’d cry if he talked at all.
Little was known about Ai-Ping except that he has been on a voyage to Europe when he was young. He
was never quite the same ever since — it was said that he was quite the humorous old lad before he left,
which raised further questions among the village gossipers — what exactly had happened on the trip that
broke him like this?
And so the age-old question comes to us again.
What has he become?
Seas The Day.
No, seriously, that’s the name of the boat you’ll be voyaging on. Father’s European friend, Mr. Lucas, had
allowed you to go with him on his trip to Europe. Now, all he did since you got onboard was scream at you
to do this, do that. You didn’t really mind, though, you were too excited. Also, he was probably just
stressed.
You just hoped that Europe didn’t have chest-eyed people.
“Oh! Good morning, Mr. Lucas.”
“AI-PING, YOU ARE A LIAR!” Mr. Lucas greeted in return. “WHY ARE TWO PIES MISSING
FROM THE KITCHEN, HUH? DID YOU TAKE THEM?”
“No.” You sat up bolt upright in your bed, a little disheveled at being awoken at such an ungodly hour, and
in such an ungodly way, too. “Are you sure Edgar didn’t feed them to the seagulls again?”
Mr. Lucas screamed in rage. He raised a hand and slapped you across the face, again and again. As soon as
you connected, the voices in your head start screaming too, and you thought your head was going to
explode because of all the noise. They told you to run, to hide from this terrifying man, but your legs were
blocks of steel and held you in place. Some voices were more sinister, telling you to grab his arm, twirl him
around, assault him and beat the miserable life out of him.
“No!” you said. “No!” You weren’t even sure who you were addressing at that point, your mind was
simply too far gone.
When he left, still seething in rage, you rocked yourself to sleep, the tears tracks on your cheeks somewhat
resembling the branches of a tree.
Three days in and you’d already started to miss home.
You spent your days on the Seas The Day making yourself useful, helping the crew members with the
chores such as mopping floors, making inventory and washing clothes while Edgar, Mr. Lucas’ son, fed
pieces of pie to seagulls.