Fiction: Group 4
The following months, Zheng’s final words drenched his soul in a cold cover of desolation. He knew them
to be untrue, and that is what made them so haunting. Zheng was in prison now, stationed at Shek Pik, the
highest security prison on Lantau. He had shot at the police officers coming after him, then run back
through brush and wild seeking vengeance, intent only on destroying what he thought had destroyed him.
He would prove to Zheng he did not destroy Tai. He had made Tai. But even so, with his doing he found
that ordinary things like enjoying conversation, eating comfortably in public, had now become a thing of
the past. He dreaded these chores essential for survival and constantly sought an answer to his grievances.
A bus journey from Tai O to any town on Lantau required a drive past both the sublimely beautiful and
idyllic Shek Pik reservoir, but also down below at the base of the dam wall situated the prison, and in the
grace of nature its greyness and lifelessness was amplified immensely, the rows of fencing and towering
cement walls constantly and agonizingly reminded him of the distance between them, not only physically,
but also as supposed family. The situation insidiously grew in Tai’s mind until one day, passing over the hill
before the reservoir and prison; he began to feel as though his mouth were filling slowly up with the thick,
foul tasting texture of blood. It grew in volume and vividness as the bus neared the top of the hill, it felt as if
he were drowning, and if he opened his mouth, he’d paint the entire interior of the bus red. Panic sensed
his vulnerability, and it slithered up his wind pipe, and squeezed gently, testing the resistance it seemed.
When the bus shuddered to a halt at a derelict bus stop, isolated by its distance to a location of any use, he
could hardly breathe through only his nostrils any longer. The door opened accompanied with a frantic
beeping and he hurried out, covering his mouth as he jumped down from the bus to ground. The moment
he felt his feet touch earth; he let his insides spew onto an unfortunate bush. As he purged himself of the
panic, he noticed it was not blood he was heaving, but thankfully he noted, only vomit.
He felt the hot breath of the bus engine blow heavily on his back in goodbye while he was wiping his
mouth clean with a sleeve. He turned and stared as the bus drove down the hill and turn a corner, listening
until the loud grumbling of the engine faded away and was replaced with the chirping of birds and the
rustling of wind as it was sieved through the trees. He noticed a feeling of being watched suddenly, and
quickly turned his head around to see a monk in light grey and wooden brown robes. He was looking at Tai
affectionately, which considering the circumstances, came as a shock to him. He had a kind face, inviting
and warm, with intelligent eyes.
“Are you okay?” he asked, spoken in a voice imbued without any expectation. Tai thought for a moment
and shook his head .
“Would you like to come up to my monastery for tea?”
“Yes” Tai thought, “I would like that very much.”
He nodded and smiled for the first time in a long while. He had missed that feeling.
Tai followed the monk through a tranquil path, surrounded by a pleasant air of nature that settled on him
comfortably. They walked silently, enjoying each other’s presence simply by being together. Tai could not
help but feeling he had discovered some sort of home in this secluded part of the life, where it would always
guarantee him true peace. Perhaps one day he would show Zheng this path, and they would once again
walk together as brothers towards their home in the mountains.
