Fiction: Group 3
leggeds roamed the street with gags and rope hidden in their pockets. School for them had become
dangerous, and worried parents could always be seen during lunch hours to check on their children.
I kept an eye on Lin as he hurried home, constantly glancing over his shoulder. This was the world the
two-leggeds had created for themselves - a world with too much fear and greed and pain. He reached
home safely and ran into the arms of his worried mother. “Lin!” she cried. “Thank goodness you’re not
hurt!” Out of the window, they watched together as the police crumpled under the force of the menacing
two-leggeds, one by one.
1999
Finally, my wait was over. I could be reunited with my brother, or so they told me. This was the year I
would be handed over to the People’s Liberation Army by the Portuguese. One morning, I was roused by
loud trumpet music ringing through the city centre. It stopped abruptly, and clapping filled the air. A flag,
brilliant red and green in colour, was lowered and folded neatly, then passed to a Portuguese man. He held
it to his chest and saluted. A bout of clapping rung out once again. Through the thick crowd of onlookers, I
spotted Lin. He was standing beside his mother. Dark shadows beneath his eyes told of many sleepless
nights. What was he worried about?
Almost immediately after the ceremony ended, Lin rushed to the seaport, leaving his mother behind. Just
ahead, Henrique was dragging several suitcases at once. His face was drawn and weary. “Get going, boy,
move
faster
. And if you can, try not to be the worthless fool you are!” his father hollered at him. Henrique
pretended to ignore him, but a pulsing vein in his temple was a telltale sign of masked rage. I finally
understood Lin’s misery: Henrique was returning to Portugal.
Two months later, I watched as a man staggered drunkenly out of what was known as a ‘gambling den’. He
stumbled. A few intimidating two-leggeds sneered and spit in his direction, and the man limped faster.
Were those the kinds of two-leggeds you meet in a gambling den? The man turned onto several streets and
finally came to a door. I recognised that door! A few moments later, he collapsed against the door handle,
just as a boy inside was opening it. “You’re home!” Lin burst out, his expression showing outright disgust at
the man’s state.
The ragged man must have been his father.
Every day for the next five years, Lin’s father stepped into the crumbling den at dawn and returned home
swollen-eyed at midnight. It was almost as if he were attracted to it like a moth to light. Lin’s mother
begged him to stay at home, but he’d swear to earn back the money he had lost the day before. But of
course, he never did.
2014
Another fifteen years have passed, and once again, here I am. For all these years, I have begun to realise that
mankind - the race of the two-legged - are easily the worst race possible. I know I’ll never fully
understand their ways, and how they deceive each other with their crooked plans, instead of living together
in harmony.
Do you remember Lin, the little toddler I watched grow up? Lin passed his graduation exam with flying
colours, but was told the unhappy news that his father had gambled all their money away, with none to
spare for the university fees. Refusing to make a living out of swindling money, Lin found work in a
restaurant instead of a casino, even coming to own a successful diner. His mother enrolled his father into a
gambling counselling centre, and now they live together. Unhappily, but peacefully.
