Fiction: Group 3
The Way of the Mind - atop Victoria Harbour
The British International School Shanghai, Puxi Campus, Yan, Natarsha - 11,
Fiction: Group 3
he ICC stood, a tall, gleaming building boasting of modern technology and power. Soft rays of
sunlight bounced off its translucent silver and grey panelling and the Victoria Harbour was
especially dazzling underneath its glisten. A large wooden boat straight out of a 18
th
century oil
painting with crimson fan- shaped sails and a proud dragon figurehead trailed across the water, leaving
rippling pools in its wake. It was a rich blend of modern and ancient- a perfect re-enactment of the
glorious city of Hong Kong. But the man high above, on the 100
th
floor of the famous ICC, third tallest
building in the world, did not care for the majestic scenery around him. He only had his eyes on one thing.
In the private VIP rooms of the observatory Sky100, with its large, floor-to-ceiling bullet-proof glass
windows and rich, plush furniture, Dr. James A. Yen, renowned Hong Kong scientist and psychologist was
presenting his new invention- a device known as Psyche. It was an invention that surpassed anything at its
time. It was a device that allowed travel through the mind. A journey through a mindscape. And today the
device was about to be tested for the first time. “Are you ready?” Dr. Yen asked the girl in front of him.
“ Yes.” She replied, brimming with anticipation, strapped to dozens of tubes and wires. Dr. Yen smiled.
And the girl closed her eyes.
Grey. That was the only word to describe it. A soft mist hung over the land, shrouding the rolling
mountains behind it, soft and jagged at the same time. A feeling of serenity and calm swept through the air,
tiny droplets of water cascading down gently. A sliver of light up high in the horizons, bathed the grey with
a sheen of light gold. She reached up, ever so slowly, and her hand passed through the mist. The mist slowly
dissipated into wisps of smoke drifting across the sky.
The sliver of light that had been cloaked by the mist expanded into a warm, buttery orb casting a soft halo
over the land. The mountains came into view and fresh forests burst on top the before barren rocks. Flowers
bloomed- cherry blossoms, lilac tulips, morning glories- a garden of vibrant colours, their sweet odours
wafting through. A few birds twittered atop the trees, their voices signalling the sweet beginning. She sat on
the lush green grass and she smiled at the scene around her. She liked beginnings. Nothing bad happened
then.
The sun was higher and it was a Xanthus amber now. A river flowed down the mountains, a clear cool
crystalline blue. Blue as the azure skies, now filled with an avian of wings, with bold eagles and proud
falcons and the common sparrows. Down on the vast open plains, the mighty lions shook their heavy manes
and roared; the elegant antelopes and gazelles raced swiftly across the savannah; the regal jaguars sprinted
with a speed out of the world and the sly red foxes snuck around the bushes. She gazed around at the
animals and laughed. It was a sound of pure happiness. She was free. She was happy. She was at the top of
the world.
The sky began to darken. The clouds rolled in. The animals scattered from the grasslands into the shelters
of their homes. The land had lost its pure happy hue. Light raindrops fell softly down. Pitter- patter. Pitter-
patter. Its continuous rhythm lulled her into a dazed trance. She felt something. Something different. She
felt… melancholy.
The rain fell harder. They were bigger now. Huge. The wind howled and sliced through the pitch black
sky. Lightning flashed. Thunder roared. Trees shook and shuddered, some wrenched out of the ground,
their roots shaking wildly. The flowers fell, their fragile petals broken and destroyed, scattered across the
ground. They were the colour of blood. She clutched her head, trying to block out the horrifying scene
before her and the terrible, terrible noises. Ghosty phantoms screamed and wailed inside her head. Their
gnarled fingers seemed to snatch and tear at her. She screamed. She felt it. Pain. Sorrow. Grief. She felt true
devastation.
The wind died down. The rain fell softer. The lightning stopped flashing and the thunder stopped roaring.
Silence. All was quiet. The storm had stopped its relentless torture. Or had it? All across the land were
mementoes from the storm before. The once beautiful landscape was now destroyed. Torn apart. Trees lay
uprooted from the soil. Flowers were scattered torn and stolen of its beauty, a once joyous symbol but one
of devastation now. Of the terrible aftermath. Broken animal bodies were clustered together, the remnants
T
