Shattered
Diocesans Girls’ School, Tang Ka Yan Tiffany, Fiction: Group 3
T
here are places in this world with stories and histories, tales of conquerors long-dead
and barbarian nomads. Places filled with fantasies and legends about love, and greed,
and death.
But myths slowly fade, and men colonise these places all over again: trying to build
new fantasies and dreams, to create legacies and legends that will last for millennia…
“Ordos. Situated in the Gobi Desert within Inner Mongolia, it is one of the richest regions
of our country, ahead even of the capital, Beijing. We have one of the largest reserves of coal
and natural gas in China, and our district currently contains around 28000 people. A place of
prosperity and development…”
He looks out the window, the teacher’s monologue casually dismissed. He can see the two
massive horses outside, hooves kicking in the air in splendid immortality. They tower over the
diminutive statue perched far below, and their black stone manes fly in a tangled mass, the wind
managing to rouse even the dead to life.
Why is it that they insist on creating memorials to history, to a man they claim is reviled
for slaughtering millions? He did great things, yes, and not all of them bad, but that is not what
they want us to remember… The irony of it all, that up to this day we still call Genghis Khan
a genocidal warlord, but build massive edifices in praise to his noble feats. The teacher’s voice,
suddenly swooping up a pitch, diverts his attention away from the wind and the statues. I should
be paying attention, he scolds himself. I shouldn’t squander my time here at school – Imagine
how Mother would react if Teacher Guo told her how I didn’t pay attention in class. I should listen,
really, even if I don’t agree with what he says.
He turns his head back to the teacher in the shabby suit, focusing once more on the
continuous drone.
“Some media organizations have mocked our city as a “ghost town”. However, this is a lie, a
sign of the West’s prejudices and envy towards our great nation…”
His attention flits away again and his eyes dart to the desk beneath his callused hands.
Running his hands over the smooth plastic, he feels the same shock and amazement running
through him every time he notices his surroundings. It was not so long ago that he was sitting in
the schoolroom of his old town, the weathered building with peeling paint and dated furniture.
But now – now he’s here, in this new complex with its modernity and colours and plastic
furniture and computers. He hates this half-dead town, but all these new things… He can’t help
imagining, for a moment, a world where his parents had wealth which was all their own, a world
where freedom came with no restrictions… The world this town seeks to portray.
The school bell rings, shaking him out of his reverie as the teacher shuffles out of the door,
Instantly, the boy shoots up from his chair and flees, his sack of books thumping against his
back as he runs.
He should walk out slowly, he knows, and act respectfully and show gratitude to Teacher Guo.
His behaviour now will be reported to his parents, and will show that he has not been properly
taught in the ways of duty and obedience, to the teachers who tell him nothing worth knowing
and twisted truths. But the wind calls to him, outside, and he longs to be out in the ghost city. Not
