Little Dreamer
Kowloon Junior School, Eunice Lam, Fiction Group 2
T
here is nothing wrong with me, I think. It was just that I dreamt day and night and never
did what I was supposed to do punctually. Whenever my grandparents saw me they so
often they exclaimed: “Little Sarangerel though you are still little in our eyes, you must
learn to mature, to become strong and aware of your surroundings, the Gobi Desert, your
home. Make yourself something we can be proud of.” And on and on they went until mom came to
fetch me for help with her milking and farming. That was the life I was destined to live, and this
is my story.
The wind blew hard as we journeyed through the endless plain of the Gobi desert. Not a single
person except me was without a complaint, for I was in the middle of a delightful daydream that
no one could interrupt me from, within my own paradise. There is no one that can do that, except
my only other sibling, my older brother, and that is what he did. With a jab and kick he woke
me, and then he started blabbing on about being a good and responsible Mongolian. My brother’s
name is Ganbaatar, which means steel hero; even if it is considered that your name is what you
are like… I personally believe he’s not a hero at all.
Then everyone in the tribe started scolding me to, it was simply unbearable! At the moment
when the blazing fire burning deep within me that couldn’t resist itself was about to explode,
a snow leopard strode past us and stood beside me with an angry glare, I shrieked but no one
moved. There was an enormous chance that my doom would come, if it had not been for the tribe
leader, my grandmother. Who now had a deep scar in her throat. My thoughts of anger turned
to sorrow, of how I had brushed my grandma aside whenever I saw her, and only now I finally
understood how much she loved me. But now it was too late, she was now gone forever. Ganbaatar
started blaming me again. But this time I didn’t mind, my thoughts were only of darkness.
Ten years later...
The incident was now 10 years ago and I Sarangerel am 21. Yesterday I found the remains of the
snow leopard that killed my grandma. Deeper inside the carcass of bones and fur was a string,
with a note which had written on it:
Tell Sarangerel that I love her the most. Give her my bracelet.
I cried for joy, she was the one that understood me the most, even though I brushed her aside
every time I saw her, she still loved me the most. I found her bracelet and put it on with pride, I
felt like the Mongolian my relatives always longed for.
