Fiction: Group 3
For One More Time
St. Joseph's College, Li, Parco - 15, Fiction: Group 3
remember waking up; it must have been early afternoon. Opening my eyes I saw above me the sky,
which was painted in cerulean blue, with long strands of cirrus. It felt warm in the sunshine. Still half
asleep, I turned my head and saw that I was lying on the deck of a fishing boat.
My first thought was, “What did I get up to yesterday?” The last thing I recalled was frantically steering my
boat away from the storm. Angry clouds massed and the sea roiled. The sky was inky black. The wind
increased frightfully in violence, raging and howling at first, and after a time sounding like one continued
musketry. A ferocious gust thrust a wall of seawater against the little boat, which kneeled over and at last was
smashed to smithereens. I was unable to recall any further details. Not least on account of the bad headache I
was suffering from.
“Are you OK?”
Bent over me was a young lad with a sturdy, muscular physique. His face looked familiar, very much like
someone I knew, but I couldn’t recall whom. I deduced that he had saved my life.
“Thank you, I owe my life to you.”
“Don’t mention it. Put some clothes on,” he said as he tossed me some clothes.
It was then I came to the realisation that I was stark naked. He noticed my uneasiness and added, “you were
thoroughly drenched and so were your clothes. I was afraid that you might catch a cold.”
I nodded absently as I dressed. I was thinking something else. I was thinking about Mei-yee, my wife. The
last time I saw her she was waving at me, shouting “come back before dusk”. I was thinking about Ka-yun,
my 5-year-old daughter. The last time I saw her she was clutching my leg, entreating me not to leave the
shabby but cosy little hut. I wondered how they were doing. They must be worried to death.
***
“Mama, where’s papa?” little Ka-yun sobbed.
Mei-yee glanced at the cool dishes and said sanguinely, though not very confidently, “Papa’ll be home any
minute now.”
But he did not return. He never could.
***
“Let’s have lunch. You must be starving,” boomed the lad cheerfully, dragging me back to reality.
I wasn’t at all hungry, but I followed him anyways. He led me to the dining room. On the table there were
two bowls of noodles, each with a fried egg and three slices of ham.
“What’s your name, by the way?” I enquired. “I’m Tsz-fung.”
“Call me Dave.”
***
“Mrs Ho, glad to see you again!” said the
miao zhu
jovially.
“Me too!” Mrs Ho replied politely.
She lighted incense and burnt offerings, then ambled towards the effigy of
Mazu
. She was not in a hurry.
She knew the routine well. After all she had been practising this for the past 50 years. In her right hand was
a vintage portrait of her husband, Tsz-fung, which was drawn by herself by sole memory.
***
“Tsz-fung, just ditch the bowls at the sink,” Dave stated. “We’ll arrive in Macau in 30 minutes.”
Our lunchtime chit-chat provided me with a complete picture:
1.
When Dave found me I was clinging on to a piece of plank, half floating half sinking. Yet bizarrely, he
told me there were no storms nearby recently.
2.
This boat was heading for Dave’s hometown, Macau, which coincidently was my hometown as well.
My headache had alleviated by then, probably at the thought of seeing my wife and daughter soon.
“Dave, would you please turn on the radio?” I requested. “I would like to listen to the news. I’m absolutely
certain there was a storm.”
“Sure.”
“The Ukrainian government has lost control of its eastern territories. Although the Kremlin declared Russia
has no intention in annexing east Ukraine, the United States agreed to lift economic sanctions.” – huh?
Aren’t both Ukraine and Russia USSR?
I
