An Immaculate Legacy
Andrew Huen, Group 3: Fiction, Diocesan Boys' School
he scarlet aubade ascends into the dreary night sky, engulfing the Cimmerian azure with its splendor
and glory, whilst earthly and forgotten legacies vanish into the haze drifting in the famished dawn
breaking yonder. The vault of secrets has imprisoned fragments of memories and faith, archived shreds
of iridescent history and iotas of truth lying comatose behind the tale of the Great Wall.
The exquisitely arisen fortress fortifies the vast lands of China, its cyclopean wings stretch over
the picturesque horizon. The body of this colossal dragon is no longer hibernating - it has awakened...
Tongues of fire billow up, piercing the barricade of clouds that hover in the fringe of the abiding darkness.
A chain of despair has overwhelmed my exhausted body, but the adrenaline of hope still revives my crippled
spirit. The soul of my battle-heart still penetrates my subconscious, generating a sensation of buoyancy to
defend my collapsing mettle. As my sword is drawn out of its sheath, it savours the subtle scent of pride
flourishing in the mid-autumn night. War itself is a weapon of mass destruction, another life, another sacrifice.
Every single life on this theatre of war will eventually vanish. Through what shall we claim freedom; through
what shall we regain liberation... Through sacrifice and bloodshed, it is the only escape from the intense labor
and suffering. My mind was filled with provoking but unanswered questions, what will fulfill my regrets, my
destinies? What will bring us salvation? Only fatality will excuse any man from conscription.
I shift my eyes upon the lofty trail of blood. On the field lays the corpse of fellow comrades, the blood of
my beloved friends, the body of my brother. War is annihilative, and the last thread of hope has been cut. I
have lost my family forever... Nothing will redeem his life because he has suffered the ultimate punishment -
death. There is no return. Crystals of sorrow waters my eyes, and trickles down my cheeks, and drip onto the
lifeless carcass on the bloodstained gravel.
I have massacred hundreds of enemies mercilessly, destroyed thousands of innocent souls, but why do I
fight. “The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind
him.” But I have failed, failed my nation and myself, failed my constellation and fate, failed to defend my
family who has come to fight with me, who has become slaves of the nation as I am, fighting to defend our
home which has abandoned us.
I walk about the great wall, unexpectedly struck by the coarse voice of the messenger - I have been
summoned by the general. I enter his grand bivouac - luminated by a few flambeaux and kneel before his
stateliness, and receive the scroll. It is an order of dismissal - I am free at last. There is still a boulder in my heart,
I have paid the price to alternate autarchy.
I have soared lofty mesas, crossed boundless oceans to arrive home. I drag my exhausted feet through the
fields and scan around, but, although everything looks so familiar, I am unable to identify anything. My heart
sinks into an abyss. I am an alien to my own homeland, as if an explorer venturing in the uncharted territory, but
it is my heart which isolated my body, emotionless, lifeless, numb, indifference. I sat on the intricately carved
chair, but everything surrounding it is obliterated. Everything left on this lonely barren land is nothing but a
silhouetted cottage, lifeless grains of rock and sand, and the guilty soul of one lonely old man. I am no longer
belonging to my home and the comfort and security it provides, yet sickened by the revulsion of war and the
person I used to be. I have withdrawn from life, a husk, an empty shell...
Time has washed away my youth, leaving a wrinkled face in the earthly ruins, but it hasn’t throughly
shielded my heart and mind from the suffering of guilt, but it has at least healed my superficial wounds and
camouflaged my pain... leaving the cicatrices, which might alleviate and recover, someday...
The majesty of the great wall reflected its flamboyance, leaving behind all its memories, it sorrow, its
suffering. The great wall has silently witnessed the deaths of courageous warriors, the demise of thousands of
spirits. It has also witnessed the birth of a rich heritage and the undefiled history of China, the dawn of the
civilization of this new age. It is now living a whole new life, prismatic and iridescent.
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