Member-only story
Moving to Hong Kong
A short story to transport the mind, body and soul.
Eyes begin to open.
The aesthetic glare of a stout bedside alarm clock seeps into the small hotel room with a dull, artificial glow — combatting the early morning gloom.
The small metallic bell within the plastic casing is frantically buzzing as the alarm triggers…
Time to get up.
Eyes are blood shot, but now definitely open.
Ezekiel stirs from his sleep, smacking the plastic casing of the alarm clock with the heel of his hands, the metallic buzzing stops and the light-up display flickers and twitches.
He moves his stiff body, tugging back the polyester duvet from his torso and legs, and leaps from the covers; revealing a stained and bedraggled single mattress beneath.
Ezekiel rips open the blinds and crisp early-morning sunshine pours in. He peers out of the window, scanning the road below.
His hotel is next to an airport, most of the world is yet to wake — but the distant rumble of turbine engines reminds him, he has a flight to catch.
It’s 6:15am.
He spots a man with a baseball cap walking a small dog, the lead is strained as the little mongrel tugs towards a grassy bank.
