The Escaping Man
Maryknoll Convent School (Secondary Section), Lorraine Wong, Fiction: Group 4
I
was a man from the Northern Wei Dynasty. I had lived in a time of war since forever and
nothing was ever going to change because the eternity of art had preserved my time, my
life, and unfortunately my sufferings. I was a man in the long wall painting in the Mogao
Caves. This wall painting told the history of China and walked people through the Dynasties
at a length of 60 miles. It was amazing to think that in the boundless Gobi Desert of nothing but
a sandy void of the earth laid the magnificent Dunhuang city. This splendid city allowed men to
trace their past, their culture and their art. The Mogao Caves were among the most famous ones
there. People risked their lives and journeyed all the way here just to come visit the Mogao Caves.
During my time, there were countless and endless wars, wars that built the Kingdom and wars
that destroyed it. Restless souls that liked to seek for power seemed insatiable to their desires. The
country soon became divided and more wars were going to come. Too many innocent men had
sacrificed their lives for that one future King who would win it all, all the power, the fame and
gain. This long wall painting preserved all the bloodshed. The painter painted me as a man who
was escaping. It was true, so true that I tried to escape every day, but never in one day had I ever
succeeded since it was impossible for me to escape from a painting. All I could do was to bear the
sound of people’s helpless mourning and horses’ desperate screams in wars until the end of time. It
was not only torment for the ear but also affliction for the heart.
Every day, people came and went. They appreciated this wall painting as an art because they
did not know that in this wall painting lived another world of the past, a world of eternal time.
They would never understand what I was going through to be trapped in a place of living hell.
Every day, I heard a lot of conversations of people visiting this cave. They talked about what
they call the history of china, but there were many things that I had never heard of, especially
the things that happened after the Northern Wei Dynasty. There were many things that I did not
understand when listening to these conversations. It was really frustrating. I wanted to escape so
badly to the other parts of the paintings to see what the later part of history was like, especially
what the Tang Dynasty was like. It must be fascinating. People said it was the most populous city
of the world during its time. However, no matter how hard I prayed, my body remained as the same
posture as the day I was painted by the painter. Time went on, but nothing had changed at all.
Then there came a day when I thought everything was going to change. An earthquake struck
the Gobi Desert and the Dunhuang City. The wall painting was broken into pieces by the force of
nature. For me, it felt like a change of fate and hope was ignited. I was broken into an individual
piece. The tearing cries of war gradually became distant and faded away. Then I heard sounds of
lightness and joy. The sounds touched my heart the way that delicate hands of a child do. I had
never heard anything like this before. I thought it was what people called “laughter”. I looked beside
me to find out what it was. Beside me laid the broken pieces of the Tang Dynasty. I allowed myself to
just sink in to the joy around me for a little while. This was an effortless escape. The force of nature
brought me to experience a little happiness. It felt good and I knew I deserved it well.
Not too long after that, a few men came and examined the broken pieces on the ground.
People called them historians and archeologists. I reckoned they knew a lot about the entire
history of China. These people then brought us away to their laboratories and attempted to
