Young Boy With The Twisted Finger

692 Words3 Pages
The moon was hanging down from the sky with just a quarter of her shine. I was meandering home, almost staggering after a hard day of play rehearsal. The streets were silent and desolate. There was not a sight of anyone. Street lamps were broken and their glass was all shattered and the broken glass was scattered on the floor. Black cats were idling and some were perching on the lawn of the sleeping people of Hong Kong. Rats were dashing around the dirty and blocked ditches. As I entered the park, a broken red “Welcome” sign greeted me. I could hear the creaking sound of the isolated swings, as if they were demolished by giants. The echoing of the owls calling, “hoot hoot…hoot hoot…,” rocked my heart. “Are you here?” I turned around and saw a young boy with a twisted finger and he was standing still as if he was expecting me. I slowly walked to him and he led me to a road where there were broken trees around me. The road was steep and the park stretched to a far distance. All of a sudden, my eyes caught sight of a carousel towering over me like a Goliath ov...
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