Fiction: Group 3
of the creatures desperate for escape. As she looked around her, she felt something build up inside her.
Something powerful. Anger.
The ground rumbled beneath her feet. Jagged lines cut through the ground. White- hot lava seeped
through, waves of anger and power. She stood at the top of the volcano. Her arms were spread wide. She
laughed. It was a cruel, mirthless sound, stolen of its joy. She felt powerful. She felt dangerous. She felt
unstoppable. She was angry. She would hurt. She would harm. It was her turn. And the volcano exploded.
The ground stopped its rumble. The anger was gone. She felt tired. But content. There was a soft rainbow
high above, from the storm before. There were beads of dew on the glistening leaves. The air was still warm
from the volcanic eruption. But now the mountain was still. There was always a rainbow after a storm.
The birds twittered again. This time they were signalling the end of a cycle and the start of another one.
She smiled. Life
was
a cycle.
She opened her eyes. She was still sitting where she had been, in the heart of Hong Kong, high above the
rooftops. Yet she had travelled a long way. She had travelled the way of the mind.
