Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Poetry 2017 | Page 103

Or perhaps it was just a gimmick, just a silly prank.
This mansion is full of lies,
I can feel them snake through the places you can’t see.
They slide along avoiding the ambient rays of sunlight.
Waves of uncertainty sweep over the furniture.
Even the windows were meanly proportioned for ghosts to fit through.
I entered what looked like a mini zoo.
Animal cages, food bowls with Chinese characters on them, an assortment on plant pots and dead
fishes in empty aquariums.
It was all a corroded mess.
But the lighting here was different,
It was a lighthouse,
an amber beacon of danger and mystery.
For a moment I was lost in thought,
I thought I heard a rustle.
I feel my body stiffen at the thought of someone living here and watching every move I make.
I closed my eyes and took deep breaths.
On the spur of the moment,
A cracking sound could be heard.
I opened my eyes, thinking someone lit the fireplace,
Horror penetrated through my body,
It didn’t quite take a detective to realize that the Qiu Mansion was on fire.
Frozen onto the ground,
Half-admiring how beautiful the mansion look when engulfed in flames of radiant light.
Almost wishing that I could vanish along with this historical site.
Finally, I came to my senses,
Dashing out of the door,
Holding my breath,
Cursing as I did.
Astoundingly, I made it out alive.
The wail of fire engines and ambulances filled the empty streets with commotion.
Everyone was talking about me.
Turning around to watch the mansion disappear before me was sober, but satisfying.
So there I was.
Watching the building ignite,
The heat on my face,
All eyes on me,
Sirens wailing,
My eyes glowed with pure delight.