Fiction: Group 3
Stone of Lies
St. Margaret's Co-Educational English Secondary and Primary School
(Secondary Section), Yung, Jess - 12, Fiction: Group 3
here was no escape.
He always knew that. It crept up his spine, reminding him, taunting him. It ate up his sanity, bit by
bit.
He was a successful businessman, his brand of watches well-known across the world. Newspapers and
magazines praised him, and people gushed over every detail.
He was invited to many parties and press meetings. He smiled widely, shook hands, laughed over wine and
quality food. He answered questions, and people answered his.
But, every once in a while, a flicker of fear would cross his eyes, and his hands would wring themselves
together.
He had a secret. A dirty, rotten, secret.
His watches were a fraud.
The leather bands on his timepieces weren't leather, the diamonds that adorned the bezels weren't genuine.
The internal parts were from other brands. All the parts were illegally shipped in. Then, they were sent to
his factories for his workers to put together. They had absolutely no idea that what they were making was
against the law; they were just following orders.
Now, this businessman was scared. There were fakes everywhere. Recently, there was a news about Dr. Dre
Beats. People were selling counterfeits at a cheap price to others. He could see greed poisoned people's
hearts, and took away their conscience. They were shamed when they were found, fined by the police.
He was afraid they would catch him next.
The consequences frightened him. He imagined situations where he didn’t lie in the first place, where he
could've become a successful businessman, without all the fibs.
So he hid his lies, and for many years, he kept it that way. His smiles masked his fear, his stiff arms disguised
shaking hands. He was trapped in his own dishonesty, and he saw no way out.
One Sunday, to get away from everything, he decided to go for a walk by the Pearl River. He had grown
up by the shore, and it held memories of a once simple life. So, he took a cab, and went off.
When he arrived, however, his memories seemed like a fairytale as he scanned the contaminated river.
There were no huts anymore, just rocks. Sewage pipes spewed out foamy waste waters. The place he used
to know no longer existed, it was long gone.
He tread slowly, still shocked by the changes. Pebbles pressed gently against his shoes. He walked for a few
more minutes before spotting someone in the distance.
It was a girl. She seemed to be no older than ten, and her raven black hair fell across her shoulder. She was
dressed in bright pink, making her stand out from the colorless background. She was sitting with her back
facing him, attending to something. He sped up his pace, and made his way to the child.
When he neared the girl, he quietly slowed to a halt, afraid that he would scare her. “Little girl, what are
you doing?” He asked, ‘Where are your parents? They must be very worried about you.” The girl looked
back at the businessman, and he took a step back; her face was smeared with goop, and her eyes looked too
big on her face. “I’m helping the duck,” she replied, “It got stuck.” She held up a full grown duck, its
feathers covered in a mess of brown glop. “So I have soap,” she points at a nearly used up soap bar alongside
a bristly brush, “And a scrub, so everything will be alright.” He looked at her, and sighed. “Little girl, it will
take more than just soap and a brush to get rid of that.” He sat down next to the child, not caring about his
suit or his pants. “They are very hard to get rid of.” He took the soap and rubbed it on the feathers of the
duck. It quacked loudly, but didn’t budge. “See?” He stopped scrubbing after a minute or so, and put the
soap down. “It's still there.” He smiled sadly at the girl. “You should go home,” He got up and offered his
hand to the child, “Tell your parents you fell into some mud, you don’t have to tell them about this.” The
girl pouted and crossed her arms. “No!” she insisted, “I’m not going.” She went back to scrubbing the duck.
“Mother said to never lie. She knows I’m here, and I always get home before sunset.” The girl scrubbed
harder. “Mother doesn’t have time to scrub the ducks with me now. She works at night, and sleeps during
the day.” The girl put down the soap, and picked up the brush. Gently, she lifted up the wing of the duck
and brushed it softly. “She would say that the stuff was lies, and that we were helping them get rid of them.”
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