Almost Orphan
by Harry Chung

One speck of cloud looks like a rash on a naughty boy’s face. I hide it with my hand. It is the perfect day to walk around The Great Wall of China.

My dad grabs my hand and starts to walk along the stairway. I look beyond the path, where a snake wriggles, tickled by needle-leaf trees. I try to take a rest because it looks like it is going take a long time. But, my dad’s hand doesn’t let me go. So I walk again, ploddingly, with little bit of anger in my each step. Finally, I’m at my destination, and soon, fresh wind hugs my whole body, sweeping the sweat. My hair is blown back and I lift my arm to let the wind go through my armpit. The wind blows my tiredness away, and strengthened my exhausted body.

After the wind went past by me, I hear my cousin is calling.

"Come here, man. I’ve got something for show you."

He passes me the binoculars that were provided for tourists to view the Great Wall more closely by paying fifty cents. The lacquer is worn off in places, which makes me not want to touch it. I put my eyes on the lenses without touching because he paid for it. Suddenly, the most beautiful yellow, red, and brown leaves make me hold the handles, even though they were dirty, and turn it around with my eyes still on the lenses. The scene was pulling my eyes through the lenses.

But it stopped to pull my eyes when the scene became foggy. I look at the timer on the binoculars, and it was over. I spent too much time. I look around, but I don’t see any of my family members. Where is my dad? Where is my mom? Where are my cousins? When I realize that I’m alone, the fear of being separated from my family wraps me with The Great Wall’s cold wind. I yell. "Abpa! Abpa!" Nobody answers. Then I start to cry until I taste my salty tears and yellow snivel. I want to escape from the place where I am.

Some Chinese tourists block my way as I try to run. They speak something, but I don’t understand. Maybe they think I’m a Chinese boy. But there’s no time to think. I’m in a panic. I don’t hear anything until the familiar voice with familiar words.

"Young Gun! Hey! Young Gun!"

My dad. At that moment, Young Gun was the most blessed word.