“A River’s Song” Creative Writing Anthology by Young Writers of Canada, Canadian Poetry Institute Inc.  2014

Finalist Xi Yuan (Cecilia) Pang 

I watch my parent’s grief stricken faces, the world crumbling down on me. I viciously rip the flimsy linen sheet, which quickly confirms my worst fears. My running dream has finally sunken to it’s bottomless pit. Where my right foot and lower leg are supposed to be… a humongous white bump. As I close my eyes, the event’s from the past day tumble back.


My mother’s wise eyes finally give up what they were trying to hold in for so long. Her eyes are rimmed with tears but they still flicker with hope. She believes in me. She grabs my hand and holds it tight, desperately pleading me to come back.  My dad kneels down slowly, his arms heaving from the weight of my accident. I want to imagine that I can announce that I’m okay. But my helpless heart gives up, dropping deep into an abyss.

The pain I feel, is nothing compared to the infinite pain wounding my heart. It seems like I’m plunging to the bottom but no matter how hard I try, I will never swim to the surface again. All my efforts didn’t pay off.


What is the point of living, when the moment and the things you live for, give up on you? Then what are you supposed to do? How am I able to live my life or start to achieve my dreams? I stare blankly at the shattered pieces of my dignity. I don’t have anything left anymore, the last sparks of hope have vanished, faith evanescent, and replaced with anger.


I wheel towards the bathroom clutching my running ribbons. My blood crashes uncontrollably inside my heart. There’s a flame inside, an infinite amount of fiery exasperation. I’m going insane. My nails dig deep into my flesh, as I bring myself to look at the crooked mirror in front of me. Who am I? The broken toilets sigh, and flakes of beige wall paint float softly onto my hair My skin is now covered with sticky tears, and my lips are now bleeding heavily from constant chewing. I collapse to the sticky floor, and start to think. I don’t know anymore. I ignore the eruption of pain in both my legs. Missing pieces. I am a failure.

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