Fiction: Group 2
The Famous Egg Tart Journey
Diocesan Girls' Junior School, Cannon, Stephanie - 10, Fiction: Group 2
iya!” I heard a very loud voice shout as I was cleaning the oily deck of the pirate ship.
“I’m coming, Little Po!” I replied.
“Not you, aiya! I just banged my finger. But actually while you’re here, you can help me think of
an idea to make me as famous as my father, the great pirate, Cheung Po Tsai. I’m sick and tired of being
called Little Po and being an ordinary pirate!”
“Well-” I began hesitantly.
“Aiya, silence!” Little Po interrupted. “I am going to steal the famous egg tart recipe of Macau.”
“But sir-” I tried to explain there was bad weather coming.
“I’m so glad that you agree with my great plan. We will set sail tomorrow,” said Little Po
confidently.
Early the next day, we woke up and ate breakfast in Cheung Po Tsai’s cave in Cheung Chau. After
breakfast, we set off for Macau without telling a soul. The winds blew steadily but the air was damp and the
waves were getting bigger by the second. I could sense there was a major typhoon coming. I tried to warn
Little Po but all I got in response was that I was being a big worryguts about a gentle breeze.
Suddenly, the sky went dark and the rain started beating down on our boat. Little Po said to me
angrily, “Why didn’t you tell me there was going to be a typhoon?”
“I tried to tell you but you wouldn’t listen!” I tried to stick up for myself but the wind was
blowing so hard that Little Po could not hear what I was saying. A big gust came and blew the boat so
ferociously that it flipped over onto its side and capsized. We were left clinging on desperately as the boat
was thrown onto the rocks of the Macau Peninsula.
“Get off the ship!” screamed Little Po frantically. I jumped in. The sea was rough but not cold as it
was still summer. Little Po wasn’t a good swimmer and had trouble fighting the current.
Luckily, the shore wasn’t too far away and both of us got to the rocks with only a few cuts and
bruises and no major injuries. Unfortunately, it was the middle of the night and we were wet, miserable and
hungry. We saw a building in the distance, so we went over to find shelter. As we got closer, we saw some
fruit lying near the entrance and Little Po, being his greedy self, ate it all up in one big gulp.
Suddenly, a big group of shimmering, ghostly spirits appeared, hovering in mid-air in front of us.
“I am the ghost of Guan Yu, the General of Ancient China,” said the biggest ghost in a quivery
voice, “This is the month of the Hungry Ghost Festival. People have come from all over the Pearl River
Delta to leave offerings at this famous A-Ma temple, and you have eaten some of the offerings! You will be
punished severely! Get them!” With that, he and his ghost army began chasing us. We ran quickly but we
were tripping and stumbling in the dark. Slowly but surely, the ghost army was gaining on us.
“Hurry! In here!” I gestured frantically to a wooden door with a sign saying “Egg Tart Factory”.
We rushed inside and hid behind some big bags of flour. We waited for what felt like eternity, until we
couldn’t hear the ghosts anymore. Cautiously, we came out of our hiding place.
“A
