Fiction: Group 3
City of Glamour
West Island School, Tang, Naomi - 13, Fiction: Group 3
1990
parted from my brother two thousand years ago. I remember that time very clearly, when we still clung
together. They talk of him now in loud, boisterous voices, about his wealth, his fortune, and his
opportunities. Those two-legged creatures even gave him a name - “Hong Kong”. My name has a
different meaning, though. They say a young lady once stepped onto my land and walked to the top of my
hill, where she ascended to heaven immediately. There, they built a temple after her, and from the temple’s
name "Ma Kok", came mine - Macau.
A thousand years later, here I was. Above me, I could hear cries of a fishmonger standing by the seaport.
“Fresh fish for just twenty escudos!”. “Ten!” an old lady shouted. They bargained loudly back and forth
until they settled on a price. Now and then, by the port, a fishing boat bobbed up close to my shore, and
muscular two-leggeds began unloading straw baskets. A smiling Portuguese man in sea-green uniform - a
‘policeman’, they called him - paced slowly in the corner of the lively market, his eyes alert. Watching,
watching.
He fixed his attention on a few hunched figures on the sidewalk. Their bodies were bent, and their bones
were clearly visible underneath their skin. Passers-by barely gave them a glance before moving on. Children
pointed rudely and screamed ‘beggars!’as they passed- which, I suppose, was what the ragged humans were
called. A wailing toddler threw himself against his mother, beating his fists against her body. Another, no
more than three years old, gurgled happily as he played with the policeman’s shoes.
His name was Lin. And I wish I had paid him more attention then.
A few meters down the street, his mother, a lady who was dressed in plain clothes and holding a basket,
gossiped energetically with a plumper lady behind the stalls. They laughed and waved at each other as the
plain-clothed lady walked back, picked up the shrieking toddler and headed home.
1995
Fear. Dread. Horror.
These are the only three words that could describe that time. I was soaked with a red pigment that
smothered my soil. Searing infernos ignited, their flame swallowing my trees and flowers. The two-leggeds
had ruined my land and destroyed my ports. Those hateful, despicable humans! Greed had consumed them
whole and spit them back heartless and soulless. Those very men I then witnessed smashing open bank safes
and firing silver pellets into others who had done them no harm. There, was the same smiling Portuguese
man in uniform of five years ago, defending the safe. His forehead was creased with lines of worry.
I watched as they put a bullet into him.
The toddler before had become a child of eight. He now roamed the streets with a firm friend in his grade,
Henrique Feliz, whose father was one of the high ranking generals in Macau.
During those turbulent times, abductions happened frequently. Cries of children dragged away from their
parents could be heard on the streets. How I wish I could help them! Lin’s friends disappeared on the streets
one after another, taken to be sold. But he and Henrique were one of lucky ones who got away. Two-
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