Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction Group 3 | Page 67

A Taste of Loneliness
Harrow International School Hong Kong, Hancock, Tasman - 13
We only get one life. One chance to make a difference in this unfair world. Yet I squandered my
only chance. My only life.
Let me start from the beginning, the day I abandoned the only home I knew, the day my world
turned upside down.
“Ming, my boy, come downstairs, there’s someone to see you!”
My mother's sweet voice wafted through my bedroom door, filling the space with her gentle
words. I heaved myself out of bed, put on my finest silk garments and descended the stairs. A tall, gangly,
man, about twice my age, stood at the door, dressed like he had been at sea for months. My nostrils stung
from his putrid body odour and his cold black eyes stared back at me, penetrating into my mind as if he was
reading my deepest thoughts.
Then he began to speak and with only a few words, he offered me a thrilling adventure: a chance
to travel as a lucky charm for the legendary Ming treasure voyages. I had to make a choice. It was either to
stay with my mother and accompany her through her old age, as she had no one else to love or to embark
on a heroic voyage that could bring me wealth and fame. I can still picture my mother sobbing in my arms,
pleading me to stay with her, but I just couldn’t say no.
As my carriage pulled up to the dock and the majestic ship came into view, I decided to put my
homesick feelings behind me and focus on the future; after all, I out of all the children in China had been
chosen for this honourable duty.
I boarded the ship and immediately the smell of salt and old wood flooded into my nostrils. I felt a
rush of excitement race through my body as I looked around at all the different people, each working
diligently on their own task. I ran up to the bow, and the wind blowing in my face, I looked out at the
great blue sea, stretched as far as the eye could see.
As the days passed by, the adrenaline slowly faded away and I began to feel the weight of guilt
pushing me down. Each morning, the sunrise brought the hope of a new day, of a new adventure, and I
would rush to the bow to witness it in person. Vibrant ribbons of reds, yellows and oranges streaked across
the sky, and the rising sun sparkled like diamonds on the bright blue sea. Dreams of adventure and
excitement filled me. Each night, the sunset brought hopelessness, as yet another day had passed with both
my mother and me apart, with no one to love me or to love. Guilt twisting my mind and my soul, dragging
me to the darkest of places, sucking out all the life I once had. Then, one cold winter day, my life changed
forever.
I woke up as usual and left my cabin to go on deck and witness the brilliant sunrise. I stood at the
bow, in the icy winter wind, with nothing but my thin silk robes to shield me. Just as I was about to give in
to the needles of cold, I felt a blanket slide on to my shoulders, enveloping me in a warm bundle. I turned
to see a girl, about my age, with only a thin cloth robe covering her delicate skin. She stood there looking
so calm, and on her pale face, she wore an expression of pure kindness, so true that I felt my heart melt with
bliss. It felt so good to be loved this way again. She smiled slightly and said in the lightest and most angelic
voice I have ever heard, “See you later.”
I thought that no one would ever love me like my mother did, that no one would see me in the
light that she did, but every time I saw Mei, I felt that same buttery warm feeling that I felt around my
mother. As soon as she came into my life, this ball of love, life and laughter welled up inside me and I felt
loved again. Suddenly, I had hope for a new life with
her, but lurking in the shadows of my hope was the guilt of knowing that my mother would never find
someone like Mei. But also the guilt of knowing I had found a replacement for my mother, something I
never thought possible.
“Never speak to Mei or I will kill you, you hideous rascal!”
I spun around in my cabin, but there was no one there, I frantically opened the door and searched
the hallway, but I saw no faces. From that day onwards, I felt there was another presence lurking in the
shadows of the ship, waiting to pounce if I tried to find Mei. I came to know this presence as my voice, the
enemy I was always at war with.
Then one hot summer’s day, the unimaginable happened - I was sitting in my cabin reading
ancient Chinese literature, the only thing I had left from my mother. I could still smell the sweet perfume of
the fragrant flower she wore in her hair and the cosy smell of the fireplace, a reminder of what I left behind.
Depression and homesickness balled up inside me, twisting my stomach, and pricking my skin. There was
no reason to live anymore. I picked my dagger, and with a shaking hand, aimed it toward my heart, ready to
give in to all the sorrow and guilt I had gone through.
Suddenly a scream pierced the air, a scream I knew very well. It was Mei!