Fiction: Group 2
As I sit back in my old rickety chair, I vividly remembered that one day, where everything changed. I was
coming home from school when I heard cries of misery in the direction of our small hut. I threw off my bag
and jacket and raced towards home. As I arrived on the front porch, Qing Hai was crying over something I
couldn’t see.
Rumour has it that she was murdered. Murdered by her own husband. Qing Hai’s father was nowhere to be
seen after that. Seeing his loss made me think of my own family and, the day I lost them. The Pearl River
might have taken my family but it had given me a new one. The Pearl River might have taken my friends
but it had given me new ones. The Pearl River might have taken my old life, but it had provided with a
new one.
Now I often spend most of my time sitting on the calm, muddy shores I, was once washed up upon.
Occasionally Qing Hai will join me and I will look at him and smile about all the good memories we have
made, good times we have had. I sit, in the sand and daydream from morning to afternoon whilst staring at
the crimson coloured sky as waves flow around my sandy feet and I am once again reunited with my
memories.
