Fiction: Group 3
New Tales of the Pearl River Delta
International College Hong Kong (ICHK), Blain, Joe - 13, Fiction: Group 3
he silt is a gentle, dull, grey and black colour, and it fills the whole landscape to the north. Dark
blue pools of tranquil water dot the flat expanse. The sky, grey and bloated with fresh rains, is
decorated with sporadic flocks of cranes searching for a spot to land. Deep green forest rises to a
slight plateau, far away to the east and west.
***
You stood there for a short time, but there seemed to be no limit to how long you could stay in this place.
The sky arched above your head, mottled with grey clouds, and gradually curved down to meet the
horizon, where the thin smog blurred the silt and sky together.
Following sight, the rest of your senses came alive.
A brisk wind kicked up, sending a distinct smell into your nostrils.
Low rumblings and crunchings of tires crept behind your ears.
The cool silt piled and sank against your boots and filtered water into your socks.
Traces of tin landed on your tongue and reminded you, who you were, where you needed to be.
"John! There you are."
Creak. Slam. Clunk. Clunk.
The truck's driver pulled on the handbrake.
"John! Over here, mate."
You looked over at the man stepping down from the cab.
"Morning, Tim."
He scratched himself, looked out at the timeless, ancient landscape.
"Crackin' bit of real estate, eh?"
"Nice and flat. Shoddy foundation material, though."
"We're gonna dredge a load of it up, use it for concrete."
He jerked his thumb to the east, where skeletal steel frames were rising through the dust and reddish smoke
nearby.
"And about that 'foundation' thing - how's the whole... y'know..."
"Bridge?"
"Yeah... what kind of budget we looking at?"
You scratched your chin, producing a faint rasping. You wondered momentarily whether you could borrow
a razor, before a couple dozen calculations pushed it out of the way.
"Couple million?"
"RMB?"
"U.S."
Tim stared at you, slightly disappointed, but neither unsurprised nor untrusting. He knew, subserviently,
that you would be right.
"...No problem. I'll get back to the council. Need a lift?"
"I've got someone coming."
"Right. See you later, then."
Clunk. Clunk. Creak. Chatter. Slam.
The truck's engine thrummed into life and crunched its way up to twenty an hour through the silt, the red
star emblazoned on its side slowly fading through the growing darkness.
***
The mists had crept into the forest, soaring high above the sea and the delta before it hit the land,
and then falling slowly like a sheaf of paper to the ground. Near the edge of the forest, the silence and
iridescence had faded slightly. Stumps appeared, and orange light threw sporadic shadows across the canopy
leaves. The trees grew thinner, greyer, and much, much taller, into towers of metal scaffolds. Crouching in
T
