Correct Connect
Louna Jushpe, Group 3: Fiction, Zhuhai International School
07,
no no, 206… yes, that’s right, 206=8.” Mr. Parson struggled to fit another post-it note onto his
pin-board. As he finally stuck the pink paper on top of 1453 (which was the year the Chinese
stopped constructing the wall) he stepped back and looked up at his work. He had been doing this
for most of his life. From the moment he got his very own first Commonplace Book at the age of
12,
he had studied the mystery of the Great Wall -- one of the 7 Wonders of the World constructed
more than 2500 years ago (well, 2713, to be precise).
The room was dimly lit by one peach-coloured lamp, barely holding on to its wire. It was a small room;
barely the size of a van. A normal room would consist of a bed, a desk, a wardrobe, a bookshelf and a chair, but
Parson’s room was not a normal room. His had these things, as well as 8 Pin Boards scattered all over, including
the ceiling. The boards were covered in pink PostIt notes with numbers -- of dates, years, lengths, weights, sizes,
populations -- numbers of everything you could possibly find about the Great Wall.
Mr. Parson was a very messy 40 year old man; he had greying, chocolate hair, pale skin and huge
glasses in front of his small eyes. His lips were small and tight, always orange and dried. He wore a brown coat
that reached his feet. He was a short man with a brain bigger than a computer. Parson kept information, as he
believed that all of the numbers related to the Great Wall were connected, and that this was no coincidence: it
was destiny. You could call him a Numerologist. He’d kept every relevant number he’d found ever since the
8
th of August of 1610 (8, 8, 8), the day his older sister, Bridget, aged 30, died of a rare disorder called
Arrhythmogenic Right Ventricular Dysplasia. Ever since that dreadful day, he had never attended another party.
He ate only salmon crackers (his sister’s favorite food) and slept only 5 hours a night.
At times, Parson still thought back to the happiest day of his life. It was the 8th of August 1583 -- his 6th
Birthday. For his birthday, his dad had collected enough money to visit the Museum of the Great Wall in
London town; it was a perfect day -- just him, his dad, his sister, and Great Walls all around him.
A knock at the door that snapped Parson back to reality. A deep, tired voice called “Letter to Mr.
Parson!” Parson frantically got up, and stumbled out the door. He ran down all the 17 (8) floors and out the main
door. It was a windy, autumn day. Parson quickly gripped of the envelope and tore it open, its contents flapping
in the wind. At the top of the envelope:“To Charles Parson, D8 62F, Lazy Street, London, England” next to a
beautiful red dragon stamp with a character Parson didn’t recognise. At the bottom:“From Julian Brook, A-26,
Emperor’s Gate, Beijing, China.” Parson was overwhelmed; he had been waiting for this envelope for what
seemed like forever. Inside, he found a letter which read:
Dear Charles,
I know that you have been waiting, but I have been extremely busy. In the end, I got my assistant to go
to the Wall, and she found the measurements. I have attached the lengths of the Ming Wall. I hope this will help.
PS Please come see me one day; it’s been such a long time.
Julian Brook
After 2 hours of non-stop adding and multiplying, he stopped his work and took a deep breath. He
started thinking about Catherine, a beautiful sweet woman he once knew. He remembered the old days, when
they would stroll down the streets together. Seeing her beautiful skin in his mind made him close his tired eyes,
and slowly, he fell asleep.
The next morning, at 6 O’clock sharp, Parson yawned, then walked over to his cat, Numero, and
poured some Friskies into his bowl. Then he grabbed a salmon cracker and walked toward his desk. “8 bites!
This is all so correct!”
Parson looked at the numbers he had received the day before. He played around with them a bit, but started
getting frustrated. It didn’t make sense. How could 6232 make 8? He scolded himself, “These numbers are
very wrong, but I know what I’ll do. It’s my only choice” Parson knew what he was going to do. He grabbed
Numero and rushed out the door.
How was he going to pay for the trip? He returned to his room and went to his old chest, filled with old
photographs, letters, toys, books . . . . Parson dug deep and pulled out a beautiful piece of art -- a landscape of
the Great Wall in the sun. A tear came down his cheek. “Don’t look at the world from the shaded side, look at it
from the sun,” he whispered, reading the little plaque on the frame. His dad had painted this. Before he died, his
father had said, “Remember, Life is hidden with secrets, the only way to find them is to go out into the space of
the sun, and look for them.” He wiped the tears off his face and put on a brave smile.
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