The Ghosts of Hong Kong Palace

Dusty red and gold lanterns droop from a yellowing ceiling in the dark. Antique wooden tables hide under white cotton tablecloths. Unfilled cardboard boxes stand atop one another on the brown laminated floor in the corner of the room. The stillness in the closed restaurant is lonesome. Abandoned ghosts serve an empty building that has fallen into disrepair. The Hong Kong Palace only accepts orders from the past. Still, the deliveries continue to roll out to customers that don’t exist anymore. Outside, overgrown weeds split concrete footpaths that exhibit fading graffiti. Across the street from the Chinese takeaway stands the Anglican Church of the Holy Redeemer. The fragmented house of prayer is forever waiting. Waiting for the sun to rise. Waiting for the street lights to change. Waiting for the years to pass. Waiting for the presence of the Holy Spirit. Always waiting for salvation. Perhaps, one day, the ghosts of Hong Kong Palace will find themselves here, enduring worship and having faith. 

Nearby, an abundance of asphalt is on display in the deserted parking lots and side streets. One main road, which runs parallel to the restaurant and church, is the only sign of life with rushing traffic that never slows down. Traffic that changes lanes every moment a loud honking horn sounds the alarm of urgency, roaring past wary pedestrians. Cars full of ghosts with memories from childhood speed toward an empty city waiting on its deliveries. Nobody has seen them since.