Charms- Draft 1
Thursday, November 17, 2005
Finally! My full draft for "Charms". Comments please? It's still sketchy so feel free to give me any suggestions for change. and, ignore my previous post on anorexia. It is of brainstorming stage and seriously lacking any purpose. Still, you can see my style in that writing.
Charms- Draft 1
Kirono sat by the kitchen window. The sweet tinkling sound of her wind chime rang throughout the house. It had been given by Father last year on her 10th birthday.
"Wind chimes signify good luck in Africa. May the blessings of peace and prosperity be upon you." The warm voice said. Father had always given Kirono good luck charms from around the world, each birthday a new charm from a different part of the world. Amongst them was a handmade dream catcher from the States hung around her bedpost, as well as a Maneki Neko, a ceramic figurine of a beckoning cat carefully positioned on her desk. The rest, Kirono kept in different parts of her cosy room.
"Oh thank you Father!" Wrapped in her father's embrace, Kirono was quite so sure that this peace would last. Without hesitation, she ran to the kitchen with the chime and hung it by the kitchen window. "You're not going to hang that in your bedroom?" Father questioned, with eyebrows raised in surprise. "No, I have more than enough good luck; this is for our whole entire family." "Ah very well! That's nice of you." The cheerful curtain of happiness covering Father’s eyes seemed to have been suddenly pulled open, revealing a sad look that glazed the windows of his eyes. For a moment, the air seemed to tense up and grow so cold that even the young Kirono could sense it. "Let's start preparing dinner together!" Kirono's chirpy voice pierced the gloom. She most certainly did not want anything to destroy the cheerful atmosphere of celebration. "Ok ok. Let's begin." Father seemed to be struck dumb, and Mother, in an effort to prevent Kirono from suspecting anything, replied in his stead.
Kirono now understood why. Father had been called to war. He had claimed that it was the will of the gods that he must fight for his country as a samurai. As far as Japanese tradition instructs, a wife must be supportive; therefore Mother, however unwilling she was, had aided him in his preparation for leave.
“Why can’t you explain to the gods that you don’t want to go to war? Haven’t you always taught me that war is cruel?” The indignant Kirono had questioned. “Some things are just not meant to be understood.” Now that was an answer that Kirono was not satisfied with. She wanted explanation, not facts stated out plainly in front of her. As Kirono was about to repeat her question, Mother tried to explain, “Kirono, all you have to understand, it that the will of the gods is not for us to control. We have to obey them. If Father’s going to war is in accordance to the will of the gods, war is good.” “But…” “Someday Kirono, you will understand. Not yet now, but someday,” Mother interrupted.
Just then, a soft breeze blew by. The melody of the wind chime seemed to bring a little hope, a little joy to the people in the tensed atmosphere. “You see Kirono; the charm will bring good luck to your father. He will not come to any harm,” Mother said in an attempt to lift Kirono’s spirits. Kirono nodded her head slowly but thoughtfully.
“Alas, duty calls. I have to leave now.” Father stood up straight. Picking up his bag, he turned to his family, “Bye dear. Bye Kirono.” “Bye Father! May the blessings of peace and prosperity be upon you!” Kirono said with a deep longing in her eyes, hoping that Father would notice and embrace her again. Mother was also trying to exchange one more loving glance with him. But he just turned around swiftly and marched out of the door, as if he is already in the military.
A year had passed. Kirono's 11th birthday came. Mother was hunched over the dining table, reading the letter that had been so briefly written by Father. The wind howled furiously, getting colder and colder by the minute. Sitting by the window, Kirono could plainly tell by the look on her face that the contents of it made her sad. She shook her head and released her grip on the letter. It fluttered towards the tabletop before being thrown off course by a gust of cold wind, landing it in the living room. Kirono sprang up from her seat by the window and ran to where it had landed. Just as she was about to pick it up, the wind swept it up again, as if wanting to prevent her from reading the letter. She waited for the letter to land on the floor before snatching it up with one swift motion.
Kirono’s heart began to fill with dread as her eyes moved to the beginning of the letter. This sickening feeling continued to accumulate in that young heart as her eyes moved slowly across the letter.
My family,
I write my last letter to you. I am honoured to have received a call from General Hiroto to train as a Kamikaze pilot. You might question my delight at this call, but for the sake of living up to the Bushido, I shall lay down my very life.
For loyalty to my superiors, personal honour and the virtues of austerity, self-sacrifice and indifference to pain,
Sergeant Kanzi
For loyalty to my superiors, personal honour and the virtues of austerity, self-sacrifice and indifference to pain. These words kept playing in Kirono’s head. What about honour for the family? What about sacrifice for the welfare of one’s family? Are they not just as, if not, more important? And training to lose you life is most certainly not a very austere way of living. Kirono’s angry thoughts fired at Father. Indifference to pain… Does Father not feel pain upon seeing us suffer without his physical presence? Does he think that we too should feel indifferent to the pain that we would experience at his parting? She wanted to hurl questions at him, demand answers, and give him a good piece of her mind. But yet, she knows that she can never see him again. Not even say a prayer over his dead body, for the lifeless body would be somewhere at the bottom of some rubble or salty ocean.
She felt hot angry tears welling up from within her, but yet, they seem to just crystallise inside her, unable to flow out. Probably it was the respect for Father that made her not shed tears for his painful (someone give me a hand with this word) decision. I guess that for her, Father’s decisions, no matter what kind, are still “Father’s revered decisions”.
Kirono walked up to the kitchen window. A bitter wind rushed through the window. The tinkling of the wind chime rang a melancholic tone in her ears. The cold tinkling and the sharp wind chilled her once warm heart.
From within that heart, a sudden desire to give Father a hug stirred up, overcoming the initial bitterness and resentment towards him. "War is cruel," a heartbroken voice cut the hard silence. "Yes Mother, war is cruel," Kirono replied softly, more to herself than to Mother. I always knew it; war was, is and forever will be cruel. No charm can change that.
Kirono sat by the kitchen window. The sweet tinkling sound of her wind chime rang throughout the house. It had been given by Father last year on her 10th birthday.
"Wind chimes signify good luck in Africa. May the blessings of peace and prosperity be upon you." The warm voice said. Father had always given Kirono good luck charms from around the world, each birthday a new charm from a different part of the world. Amongst them was a handmade dream catcher from the States hung around her bedpost, as well as a Maneki Neko, a ceramic figurine of a beckoning cat carefully positioned on her desk. The rest, Kirono kept in different parts of her cosy room.
"Oh thank you Father!" Wrapped in her father's embrace, Kirono was quite so sure that this peace would last. Without hesitation, she ran to the kitchen with the chime and hung it by the kitchen window. "You're not going to hang that in your bedroom?" Father questioned, with eyebrows raised in surprise. "No, I have more than enough good luck; this is for our whole entire family." "Ah very well! That's nice of you." The cheerful curtain of happiness covering Father’s eyes seemed to have been suddenly pulled open, revealing a sad look that glazed the windows of his eyes. For a moment, the air seemed to tense up and grow so cold that even the young Kirono could sense it. "Let's start preparing dinner together!" Kirono's chirpy voice pierced the gloom. She most certainly did not want anything to destroy the cheerful atmosphere of celebration. "Ok ok. Let's begin." Father seemed to be struck dumb, and Mother, in an effort to prevent Kirono from suspecting anything, replied in his stead.
Kirono now understood why. Father had been called to war. He had claimed that it was the will of the gods that he must fight for his country as a samurai. As far as Japanese tradition instructs, a wife must be supportive; therefore Mother, however unwilling she was, had aided him in his preparation for leave.
“Why can’t you explain to the gods that you don’t want to go to war? Haven’t you always taught me that war is cruel?” The indignant Kirono had questioned. “Some things are just not meant to be understood.” Now that was an answer that Kirono was not satisfied with. She wanted explanation, not facts stated out plainly in front of her. As Kirono was about to repeat her question, Mother tried to explain, “Kirono, all you have to understand, it that the will of the gods is not for us to control. We have to obey them. If Father’s going to war is in accordance to the will of the gods, war is good.” “But…” “Someday Kirono, you will understand. Not yet now, but someday,” Mother interrupted.
Just then, a soft breeze blew by. The melody of the wind chime seemed to bring a little hope, a little joy to the people in the tensed atmosphere. “You see Kirono; the charm will bring good luck to your father. He will not come to any harm,” Mother said in an attempt to lift Kirono’s spirits. Kirono nodded her head slowly but thoughtfully.
“Alas, duty calls. I have to leave now.” Father stood up straight. Picking up his bag, he turned to his family, “Bye dear. Bye Kirono.” “Bye Father! May the blessings of peace and prosperity be upon you!” Kirono said with a deep longing in her eyes, hoping that Father would notice and embrace her again. Mother was also trying to exchange one more loving glance with him. But he just turned around swiftly and marched out of the door, as if he is already in the military.
A year had passed. Kirono's 11th birthday came. Mother was hunched over the dining table, reading the letter that had been so briefly written by Father. The wind howled furiously, getting colder and colder by the minute. Sitting by the window, Kirono could plainly tell by the look on her face that the contents of it made her sad. She shook her head and released her grip on the letter. It fluttered towards the tabletop before being thrown off course by a gust of cold wind, landing it in the living room. Kirono sprang up from her seat by the window and ran to where it had landed. Just as she was about to pick it up, the wind swept it up again, as if wanting to prevent her from reading the letter. She waited for the letter to land on the floor before snatching it up with one swift motion.
Kirono’s heart began to fill with dread as her eyes moved to the beginning of the letter. This sickening feeling continued to accumulate in that young heart as her eyes moved slowly across the letter.
My family,
I write my last letter to you. I am honoured to have received a call from General Hiroto to train as a Kamikaze pilot. You might question my delight at this call, but for the sake of living up to the Bushido, I shall lay down my very life.
For loyalty to my superiors, personal honour and the virtues of austerity, self-sacrifice and indifference to pain,
Sergeant Kanzi
For loyalty to my superiors, personal honour and the virtues of austerity, self-sacrifice and indifference to pain. These words kept playing in Kirono’s head. What about honour for the family? What about sacrifice for the welfare of one’s family? Are they not just as, if not, more important? And training to lose you life is most certainly not a very austere way of living. Kirono’s angry thoughts fired at Father. Indifference to pain… Does Father not feel pain upon seeing us suffer without his physical presence? Does he think that we too should feel indifferent to the pain that we would experience at his parting? She wanted to hurl questions at him, demand answers, and give him a good piece of her mind. But yet, she knows that she can never see him again. Not even say a prayer over his dead body, for the lifeless body would be somewhere at the bottom of some rubble or salty ocean.
She felt hot angry tears welling up from within her, but yet, they seem to just crystallise inside her, unable to flow out. Probably it was the respect for Father that made her not shed tears for his painful (someone give me a hand with this word) decision. I guess that for her, Father’s decisions, no matter what kind, are still “Father’s revered decisions”.
Kirono walked up to the kitchen window. A bitter wind rushed through the window. The tinkling of the wind chime rang a melancholic tone in her ears. The cold tinkling and the sharp wind chilled her once warm heart.
From within that heart, a sudden desire to give Father a hug stirred up, overcoming the initial bitterness and resentment towards him. "War is cruel," a heartbroken voice cut the hard silence. "Yes Mother, war is cruel," Kirono replied softly, more to herself than to Mother. I always knew it; war was, is and forever will be cruel. No charm can change that.
