Snow Leopard Terrorists
in the Gobi Desert
St Joseph’s College, Long Sang Wong, Fiction: Group 4
P
eople of the town of Ball-sledgehammer,” growled my father frantically, waving his
paws as he spoke.
“For years we have been cruelly caught, slaughtered and skinned for our fur. Adding
to that, our comrades have been locked up in your cold, horrific zoos, mistreated and
seen as a form of visual entertainment instead of as a proud snow leopard.”
I watched behind the curtains of my room as my father, who was standing in front of a
blackboard with the words “May the spirit of Tigger the leopard be with you” inscribed in our
language, Cha-cha-nese as he spoke in a stern tone.
“When you wake up this morning, you shall find yourselves in a sea of fire and destruction,
for we have gotten our paws on a weapon of mass destruction” Continued my father as he spoke in
a half muffled voice while wearing a black mask which only showed his beady eyes.
“You shall remember your evil deeds, sob and then try to repent. But it is too late, the damage
has been caused and our brave comrades who martyred can then finally die in dignity and sit on
the right hand side of our lord, Tigger the leopard.”
“Send this to all TV stations in the town of Ball-sledgehammer please.” said my father after
signalling the camera-leopard to stop filming.
I am a 1 year old snow leopard cub called Habib who lived with the organization of the
Leopard Liberation Order (LLO) in the outskirts of the town of Ball-sledgehammer, a town
specializing in the trading of fur located in the middle of the Gobi Desert. According to my father,
the chief of the organisation, we are a unit who fights against the terror of the humans in the
town, most notably the mayor Liang. Lately, I haven’t seen my father quite so often due to the fact
that he has been very busy preparing for his “work”, which he claims to be doing. I once asked
him what the “work” was out of curiosity and the only reply I got was that I would know on “that
big day”.
My father, apparently seeing me peeking through the curtains, chuckled and beckoned me to
go to him with his paw.
“Habib, sooner or later, you would have to learn these things, you know,” started my father.
“Come with me, and we shall have a little talk.”
I sighed as I followed my father out to the open which was the first time for a week, not very
excited to be receiving another long lecture. The soft desert breeze stroked my fur as we trudged
through the very soft sand.
“Guess what, the Nomads used to live here, and this is the reason why we have these
“
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