Fiction: Group 3
Then strangely, one night, everything changed. I looked out to the sea expecting him there as always, but
this time, he was nowhere in sight. Seeing the man standing on the rock had become regular occurrence to
me. Him not being there, for some reason, sparked more interest in me. Was he all right? Did something
happen? Why was he absent?
Throughout the following weeks, I often found myself stealing glances at the isolated rock in hopes of
seeing the old man standing there, but every time I did so, I was met with nothing but the sight of a vast
ocean with an unoccupied rock protruding out of it like a jagged tooth. During this time I had also resorted
to, sometimes, breaking my run and sitting down at the seaside gazing out into the South China Sea whilst
watching the breath taking light show that sunset presented.
Then one day, while I was doing just that, I felt the presence of someone beside me. So, apprehensively, I
slowly turned to be faced with a woman. Her white hair shone as the light from the drowning sun bounced
off of it. Her eyes were a piercing black; so endlessly dense it was like looking into an abyss. Her thin, pink
lips formed a small, but nevertheless, warm smile. Her pale skin was slightly wrinkled but she radiated
elegance and beauty. She was an ocean of contradictions. The woman stood with an aura of confidence that
reminded me much of my late grandmother, but I couldn’t quite place my finger on what it was exactly that
made me feel that way. She took a seat beside me, and said: “You remind me a lot of her.” Her voice was
silky smooth as her lips formed each and every syllable clearly.
“I’m sorry. Do I know you?” I replied completely ignoring her previous statement – perplexed.
She smiled knowingly and replied, “I knew your grandmother. Great woman she was. Always willing to
listen and help out. You look a lot like her.” For some reason, I felt this strange connection with her. Was it
the fact that she knew my grandmother? Was it that she reminded me of her? Or was it because, as I look at
her now, she was looking at the same exact rock that I was looking at just a few moments ago, with a
knowing smile on her face?
“I’m sorry, is there anything I can help you with?” I replied. She let out a small laugh, and turned to face
me.
“I know you see him.” My eyes widened slightly in surprise and astonishment.
“You mean the man on the rock? The one with the black coat?” She smiled slightly and nodded.
“He’s my father.” The silence between us hung in the air like a dense fog, ever so encapsulating and
perplexing all at once.
“My brother joined the army at a very young age. He was only just a young man when he was sent to fight
during the Second World War as a part of the British army. My father was always very against this. He was
afraid that if he left he would never come back. So ever since the day he departed, my father would come to
this very spot, look out into the horizon, and wait. Wait in hope of someday seeing the grand ships of the
British colonial army making their way back home. But they never did. Years later he eventually passed
away. Nowadays, I often comeback to this spot, and see him standing right there, on that rock, still waiting
for the return of my brother who never came back. I hoped that one day he would accept this and move
on.” She looked out to that vacant rock with waves crashing against it, “and I believe he finally has.”
I never saw that man again.
