Celeste Cheung
You have been waking up after five hours of sleep, exactly a hundred minutes before your alarm—a quarter to six.
“Why do mornings feel like nights now?” you ask.
I lose traces of my orbit upon sunrise, when I dissolve into the bright and blue. Darkness elucidates my contours, so I can see myself.
“I had more leniency before, more daylight,” you say, and your voice penetrates through the waking dawn. “A quarter to six. What a dreadful curse.”
“A curse?” I ask. You stare at me, eyes wide open. “A curse to see me?” You slip away before a word is blurted. In my last life, Ciel, nights were even longer. Let me tell you the story of Avery, till our next rendezvous.
*
“A quarter to six,” Ciel sighed as she double-checked if her work alarm was off, unnecessary for her day off. Her body, though, was still reluctant towards longer and deeper sleep, like it used to be when she was between jobs, or when she had her last job.
A hundred minutes early, as usual. The dream, however, felt misplaced. Not because of the talking moon, but dreaming itself, as it was once lost for some time. Some people would have a practice of longhand writing in the morning, when they discover subconscious thoughts from the three handwritten pages that document their flow of consciousness. Ciel, however,
found traces of herself in dreams. Dreams of fabricated selves in hyperrealistic scenarios—from the room escape at the Oi Man Plaza, the murderous confrontation at an inexistent tea shop on Nathan Road, to the rare, aimless saunters on the snowy streets of Japan.
What did Avery have to do with all this, though?
*
Avery Adler, one of Ciel’s characters from a rustic, snow-covered fictional village called Chroma, talks to the moon every night in the story “The Painter.” She would go to the porch, feast her eyes on the midnight sky, and
chant the Adler’s family ritual before creating her art.
Here I stand under the midnight sky. I, Avery, let the constellation guide me.
In “The Painter,” Avery enters a trial called “The Colour Test,” in which all Chromans at the age of twenty-three must walk past a series of Soul Spheres, unagitated. These spheres evoke memories of the people passing through by reenacting the scenes of their lives. Long-dealt struggles, compartmentalised experiences, suppressed emotions… These young villagers
are put to the test of emotional clarity, maturity, and balance.
Avery struggles with a scene at home as she fights over the Adler’s family paintbrush with her sister, Ava. She is articulate and clear at first, but she loses her calmness when Ava exposes her recurring habit of comparing herself with her family.
*
“I am the only one who cannot contain sadness or anger in this house,” Ciel recalled the central line from Avery and Ava’s confrontation. A projection of the author’s struggle that jarred her through adolescence still enshrouds her from time to time. Resolutions come easily in the story, as Avery makes peace with her feelings, passes the Colour Test, and reconciles with her
sister in the end. Yet, this seems a bit naive to the author.
“I lashed out at my family the night before,” Ciel sobbed as she retold the happenings to Marcy on a Saturday night after work. She could hear the sounds on the street, clearer than ever, when silence fell upon the end of a wrestle with changes and choices—two days after the interview.
Ciel was packing her bag for the interview on Thursday night, and the bag needed some charms. It needed to be customised, to show character. The first few keychains and badges did not feel right, and her family helped to find options that might work. They joked about something, and she snapped. Throwing things on the floor, like a child with a tantrum. She asked them not to speak about it, not just yet, as she needed to work early on Saturday morning, and any emotional fluctuation before bed would deprive her of her sleep. Yet, her sister dropped the bomb without waiting.
“You know what’s worse, Marcy?” Ciel apologised. “Again, my emotionally contained family tolerated my outbursts, and I could not own up to my actions, but let my temper take control instead,” her voice trembled.
Marcy passed a bowl of soup to Ciel and said, “You were just exhausted. Labour-intensive job, anxiety-prone personality, sleep deprivation, and poor appetite. It’s a bad mix for anyone.”
“Thanks,” Ciel took a sip of the soup before the starters.
Countless thoughts slipped by with every spoonful. Shadows from her previous companies left her with zero margins for mistakes and a constantly perturbed mind. The uncertainty from her prolonged job search confined her with fear, as she saw scarce chances of finding a suitable job amid gloomy economic prospects. One offer, six months into the job now. A
rough and frantic start, a perpetual process of adapting and fine-tuning, her mind and body drained and fatigued.
Still, that was no excuse.
Dinner was hearty and comforting—steaming hot soup, al dente pasta, humongous clams bursting with umami. The girls went on a walk along the Tseung Kwan O promenade, with a drink from the convenience store—a shared tradition from high school years. For better digestion, Marcy would say.
“Maybe you were tolerating them, too,” Marcy said, after a gulp of oolong tea. “See, you spend day and night balancing between work, family, friends, and health. You love your family, and meeting friends makes you happy. Good health needs to be earned. You hate work. Then, why not just minimise this vexing part of life the best you can?”
The waters beyond the promenade seemed more pristine than before, as if sediments had sunk into the seabed. Gentle waves, rolling towards the pier side. Ciel always thought that oceans had to be completely still and serene, like a lake, to reflect the moon. Yet, she saw the full moon, morphing into crescents, quarters, and weirdly warped circles—variating silhouettes of her own.
Celeste Cheung’s passion for capturing emotions through prose has deepened after a creative writing class at the City University of Hong Kong and the Master of Fine Arts Program (MFA) at The University of Hong Kong. She is fascinated by all things related to water, from pristine lakes and raging rivers to ceaseless waves. A flâneuse and crafter, she is particularly drawn to coming-of-age stories.