Shortlisted
Coming Home
Maryknoll Convent School (Secondary Section), Sharon Yuen, Fiction: Group 4
C
ome hither and listen. Stand still and listen. Listen as the wind calls your name. Listen as
it beckons you forward. Listen as it lures you in.
Stand still and listen…
Shang shaded his eyes as he studied the sky. The midday sun gleamed, shining burning rays
relentlessly onto the ground. It was going to be a long day.
Moving to his camel, he rearranged the hand-knotted Baotou carpets. The Bactrian camel
raised his head from his grazing and bleated, annoyed.
Shang glanced at the boy standing by his camel. The boy had his eyes trained on the camel’s
every movement.
Shang picked up the small pack he had prepared for the boy, and weighed it in his hand. It
was light, but was it good enough for the kid? Eyeing the boy’s knobbly knees, Shang quickly
removed a few items from the bag and stuffed them into his own.
“Don’t lose it,” Shang said, tossing the bag at the kid,
“Yes, sir,” the boy answered, hiking the bag onto his back.
Shang sighed. “Ling, I told you. It’s Shang, not sir.”
“Yes, sir.”
Ling looked up as the traders began to move out of town.
“Keep up, Ling!”
“Yes, Shang!” Ling jogged to match Shang’s footsteps.
The villagers cheered as the traders passed by, the camel bells ringing.
Ling looked up at the silent house at the end of the street. He knew his uncle wouldn’t come
out. The windows were shut tight. The doors were locked. The message was clear – he wouldn’t be
welcomed back, and he wouldn’t be missed.
That didn’t matter. Ling wouldn’t miss his uncle either.
He passed through the town gates with Shang. The cheering of the villagers still echoed in his
ears. Turning back, he surveyed his home for the last time.
Walk on. He would walk on, head held high, never turning back. Walking away from the place
he had once called home.
“Ready?” Shang asked.
Ling placed his foot outside the stone pavement, and onto the sand of the Gobi Desert.
“Ready.”
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