Shortlisted
A Hole in his Heart
St. Margaret’s Co-Educational English Secondary and Primary School, Jess Yung, 11
T
he moon, a white eye, watched the desert below. The sky, a black velvet fabric was
emblazoned with millions of shimmering lights. The God, Tengri, had swept the land with
cold, bone-chilling winds. They lifted up the small rocks into an eternal dance, jumping
from one sandy hill to another. The footsteps of jerboas could be heard, their scurrying
like pins dropping. The clumps of saxaul trees swayed, their branches entwined together.
Nothing else moved.
All except for one shadow.
In the middle of one certain clump of saxauls, a lonely figure was stuck. His long fingers
wrapped around the thorny branches, his hair scraggly and untamed. Torn, faded, rags served as
clothing, covering his frail body. He was stuck, the trees clinging onto him preventing his release.
With each movement, he got even more entangled instead of actually breaking free. Do not pity
him reader, for his suffering will soon end.
The man was about 70 years old. He, born in the desert, had adapted to the harsh outdoor life.
However, now his body was weakened and wrinkled. He cursed himself for being in this mess in
the first place, for being punished because of his foolish mistake.
Now reader, do you know what mistake he made?
He made the mistake of making his life centered around money. He made the mistake of
becoming rich, selfish, greedy, and stingy. He even made the mistake of ignoring his large family
in need of his love. But most of all, he made the mistake of selling one of his sons as a slave. He
thought, that since he had 5 wives and 14 sons, there was no harm in selling one little boy. That
day was etched into his mind - he remembered it as clearly as if it happened yesterday.
“Pa!” His 6-year old son grasped his robe, unwilling to let go. “Pa! Please! Don’t make me
go!” He stared coldly into the eyes of his son. So innocent, so sweet. “You are no son of mine.” He
roughly tugged his son’s small hand from his robe. “Pa! No, I am your son! I am your son!” Tears
were streaming down the little boy’s face. Ignoring his son, he turned back to the slave master.
“Take the boy, he is yours now.” The slave master smiled slyly at him. “Yes, yes. Very well, 14
pieces of silver for you.” The slave master dropped a small pouch of money into his hands. “Pa..
Please don’t..” His son’s voice cracked, his eyes glassy. Paying no attention whatsoever, the man
gestured for the slave master to take his offspring away. The boy screamed, his arms flailing as he
was dragged onto a cart. “Pa! Pa! PA!” His son sobbed, as the cart pulled away. Even when his boy
was gone, his pleas hung like smoke in the air.
A few months later, he received news that his son died from exhaustion and fever. Only then
did he realize the gaping hole in his heart. But he did not want to acknowledge that.
So he ran away. He took his riches and cattle with him on a long journey. He thought that he
could run away from his mistake.
But, the truth is, no one can run away from mistakes.
On one leg of the journey, a sandstorm, sent by the gods, crossed paths with them. It spun and
blew, and took away everything he had. His riches were buried deep under the sand, his cattle
dead. And his heart, broken.
But still, he did not acknowledge his wrongdoing.
