Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Winners 2020 | Page 9
Hong Kong Young Writers Awards 2020
Fiction – Group 4
WINNER
Building of a Home
Sha Tin College, Chow, Vania – 15
My back was pressed stiffly against the grumble and gentle hum of the train. I badly
needed to move. It sounds unfathomable, but I did not dare to leave my seat, to raise myself so
much as an inch from the scratched plastic of a seat, for Mother had told me not to. She told
me that the city was full of beasts: of scoundrels who would ship me off to lands I’ve never
heard of, of pickpockets who could leave me with just the clothes on my bare back, of little
old ladies with forks for tongues who could convince me into purchasing anything.
I stared out the window in a futile attempt to distract myself, ravenously gulping in the
bewitching scenery: yellow speckled greens of never ending pastures, long winding streams
that weaved in and out like children running wild, the cloudless blue sky that has forever
shielded me from the dangers of humanity. These little gems of beauty had already been
stolen from the city by soulness monsters that pump grey smoke from their tops and by
behemoths that see nothing but money- or so that’s what the village elders said.
I closed my eyes, imagining the familiar stroke of the Xinjiang wind touselling through
my hair, ruffling it like a playful father as I ran. The muddy paths thudded beneath my feet
as I ran, arms pumping, legs pushing, chasing after the backsides of my friends. Xi Li would
holler at me from behind some distant tree, laughing at me, his sister, for not catching up.
I would surprise him from behind when I finally arrived, jumping and wrapping my hands
before his eyes, pretending I was the great grizzly bear of the elders’ tales. Sometimes he
would turn and tickle me until we both fell laughing onto the soft embrace of the earth;
sometimes he would pretend to be scared and run from the great bear; everytime I played
this little game with Xi Li, it would go a little differently, and that, his vast creativity, was my
favourite part of it. It was like asking for the mystery candy at the local candy store: you never
know what you get, but everything you do get tasted like heaven.
When I awoke, the countryside had left. The ferns that had glimmered ever so slightly like
the waving fingers of a leaving friend had alas made their departure. In their place, now stood
forbidding inky green trees that towered over the speeding train, casting ominous shadows.
It was like playing a game of tag with sunshine as it flashed in and out and from behind its
oppressor, winking at us tauntingly when it made its flashy appearance. I had fallen asleep on
the train- a danger which Mother compared to leaving the front door wide open at night.
The city people were slick and slippery, falling asleep on the train was like waving a sign
begging people to come rob you of your every penny. Nervously, I patted down my pockets,
rifled through every one of my ten compartments where I had hidden pennies, even dug my
hand into the depths of my backpack to feel for the reassurance of my favourite scarf. It was
only when each and every item was accounted for did I look around and feel a little safer.
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