Fiction: Group 2
The Path of History
Diocesan Boys' School Primary Division, Ma, Lukas - 10, Fiction: Group 2
oaning and groaning, I roused from my sweet slumber and staggered to the dining room to
enjoy a hearty breakfast. Yesterday, I was too diligently revising on Hong Kong history, just to
be well-prepared for my trip back in time.
I lived on XxxxX planet. Three months prior to the ending of year 3333, I had locked
myself in the laboratory and spent nearly every single minute inventing my time machine. My journey
ahead (or actually, back in time) would be a celebration of the New Year of 3333. On New Year’s Eve, I
breathed a sigh of relief as all seemed perfectly equipped. Interwoven with both anxiety and exhilaration, I
programmed my time machine, initiated the engine and wished myself good luck at the strike of midnight.
“Bang!!” The time machine crashed straight onto a sharp, hard object. Where was I?
When was I? Was there something defective about my machine? Where was the hustle and bustle of Hong
Kong which I was supposed to land onto? Instead, I seemed to have stranded on a fishing village. Ah, of
course, this must be the embryonic stage of Hong Kong! I quickly overcame my disappointment and was
enthralled to explore this legend. Why not experience fishing? “Good morning,” I said eagerly to a kind
old lad, and explained my yearn for a boat trip. Fortunately, the fisherman did not seem to mind my
abruptness. “Come on to my boat! We are going farther today, to the South China Sea!” Fervently, I
climbed onto the old fisherman’s boat. The rough seas swayed the boat forcefully, while I could not help
feeling nauseous. “Now throw the net down but hold it tight!” I did as I was told, yet a weighty sensation
nearly pulled my whole body treacherously into the open arms of the sea. The skilful fisherman dragged me
back onto his boat calmly yet swiftly. Among the multitude of fishes which we caught, I gasped, still
recovering from shock of my perilous ordeal. The old lad steered the boat back to shore, and all was well.
“Thank you, my dear friend!” I exclaimed and felt much indebted to the fisherman for saving my life.
Next, I passed by a farm and noticed its array of succulent vegetables and juicy fruits. My
mouth began to water when I noticed the fiery red tomatoes glistening under the sun. Famished and
lethargic, I asked the farmer whether I could stay there for the night. “Welcome into my farmhouse, my
dear guest!” The next thing I knew, he had prepared a scrumptious feast in front of me. It was,
undoubtedly, the most appealing banquet that I had ever tasted, especially after a lengthy day of utter
exhaustion. “Thank you, my dear friend!” I appreciated his good will sincerely. Recharged with strength
after tucking in ravenously and a night of gratifying rest, I carried on with my adventure the next day.
Still possessing a strong desire to visit the typical Hong Kong which I originally
planned to see, I endeavoured to recheck the settings of my time machine meticulously. It would work out
flawlessly this time, I told myself. Wait! Why not invite the two kind souls to embark on the journey with
me? I hurried back to the fishing port and the farmhouse. Despite they were flabbergasted, my innocent
friends followed me to my time machine. I commended them for their courage while once again, I
launched the engine…
It had worked this time! It was the year 2014. The reputable skyscrapers and
shopping malls were overcrowded with young and old alike. I noticed that I was sandwiched among
strangers who were mostly indulged in their iPhones. “Hello…” I tried to greet any passerby beside me,
though to my great dismay, the hordes of pedestrians seemed to have turned a deaf ear to my words. My
farmer and fisherman companions were both as startled as I was. “So this is the Hong Kong which exceeds
us by 100 years?” They both queried, in disheartenment and disbelief.
The frostiness of the city fell short of our expectations. We plodded on, and
reached an intriguing area which was barred off by protestors raising umbrellas high up in the air. There
was a surge of hopeful voices, contrary to the alienation which we had just experienced. “It’s a
demonstration,” I muttered to my two friends. Tents were set up haphazardly on the streets, while
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