Fiction: Group 4
would have something to dream of. I wasn’t a child. I was almost a fully-grown woman, at seventeen years
old. If they will not stop harassing the river, then I will make them.
In the absolute dark of the night, when there wasn’t a single soul awake I did the unbelievable. I had
collected every large rock I could hold from one end of the beach to the other end, tied them in a sac and
knotted it against a pole on the docks and jumped in. With struggle, I shoved plenty of rocks into the boat
exhausts. I even stuffed a couple more for the fishermen that gave me the most attitude. When the sun was
dimly lighting up the sky, I hauled myself up and noticed a shimmer in the waters again. In the blink of an
eye, I was dry, warm and energetic again.
I looked at the shimmer and whispered a small thank you. I ran back home and prayed for the river spirit
that my plan worked. If it did not work, then it would blow my cover that I had tried my best to put up.
Who knows what they would do not just to me, but also to the rest of my family? To the river?
An angry knock came at the door next morning, my mother clearly offended at the lack of respect our
visitor showed. Six of the fishermen came in and pointed fingers at me, while I blankly stared on, my
mother argued with them. They accused me of the things that I actually had done, making their boat
exhausts splutter and die, but I kept my poker face on with confidence, and my mother aided my argument
as I calmly told them I had absolutely no clue what happened to their boats.
When the disgruntled fishermen had finally left, I hopped upstairs with a big grin plastered on my face.
When I looked out of the view of the river from my window, I saw the glistening and shimmering and
heard a soft whisper of gratitude. I closed my eyes and let her know this was only the beginning of my
mission to help the Pearl River Delta.
