Days of Gold Gone By: Ep.Two

Days of Gold Gone By: A Serial

Authors Note: This is ep. two of a serial, you may like to read episode one to obtain a full understanding. Since this is a serial I am open to story suggestions in reviews/comments.

Episode Two: Bound By War

Time is a peculiar thing. It moves in many ways. It binds most people in a similar fashion: always moving forward into an unknown future; never to look back for the past cannot be changed.

I watch a woman tenderly clutch a young child in her arms, whispering in his injured ear words of empathy. She lays the child down on the cold concrete path before wailing in alarm and running off into a nearby building, leaving the child alone and abandoned.

But she hasn’t abandoned him, she just has no reached him yet. I walk over to him; he is crying, holding his leg and unable to lift his head. He cries for his mother.

When he sees me his eyes light up, just for a moment, as if he knows I will bring happy words.

“Do not worry.” I say to him, “Your mother is coming very soon, just hold strong.” I let him be, I cannot do much more for him than pass my words. His crying returns and his dark eyes watch me as I leave.

Time is a peculiar thing, especially when the world’s future is my past, and the past of the world holds the memory to my future.

~

Since I had left the house of Kaho, the morning has set and the sky is much less bright. The air is becoming more cold and the leaves of trees and grass gleam as the morning dew settles on their surface.

I pass a man selling flowers. He is dressed in attire far too formal for his occupation, part of his sales pitch includes yelling about death of war being upon us and paying honour to the spirits of those who have passed. I don’t take it in. Who would give flowers to one who had died (on my terms ‘yet to be born’), when they would appreciate it much more after they were alive?

I notice several posters decorating buildings and shop windows with reference to a war and air-raids in particular. One depicts a woman fitting a gas mask onto her child, another pictures smiling people holding thriving produce and colourful flags.

The posters remind me of why I had taken my venture. I was determined to find out more about my surroundings. I follow the smaller street to a main road. There are only a few automobiles on the street this morning and the road seems to have been made more of use by pedestrians weaving in and out of street lamps and telephone wires.

I pass a shop that sells fruits for varying amounts of yen depending on their ripeness. There is a small stack of newspapers on the table where the shop owner stands; the stock almost extinguished. I pick up one from the pile and take a look at it. I doubt I can buy it, for as soon as I have she will take it back.

The headlines read war and bombs, predict air raids, and criticize the enemy government. The articles do interest me, it seems it is a time of conflict, but what appeals to me the most are the dates and locations.

Shizouka, June 19.

Could have the ‘June’ those people were talking about in referral to the date? It was plausible, but the way they had mentioned it seemed strange. I check my watch. It’s just past seven o’clock AM.

I put the paper back down, neatly in its pile. The woman smiles at me so I smile back.

“You are a lucky one.” She says, “Not out fighting, young man?” I shake my head and look down at my feet as the woman returns to what she was occupied with. I was lucky?

In the newspaper I remembered seeing a vividly drawn picture calling those who were not fighting that they must show heroism for their country and contribute. I was not fighting; was I supposed to be a soldier?

~

My stroll through the township ends at the ocean side. The amount of water mass is huge. I have not seen much in my lifetime yet, but I find it incredible. The way the water folds slowly forward onto the sand then crashes up and back into the pass of water is hypnotizing, I find myself staring at it, wading in it with my shoes abandoned on the shore, for what feels like forever. By the time I decide to leave the waterside it is hours past dark, the sun had un-risen long ago.

The city is dark, but a few flicking lights peer out from the houses and the larger buildings burn bright with electricity. In truth I really do not know what I am doing nor where I am going. There is only one place I am vaguely familiar with and that is where Kaho had taken me. I prepare myself to head back to where I will from now on, call home.

When I reach the home, I am unsure of myself. The others are clearly fast asleep as the windows are dark. I would feel so intrusive if I just entered, so I spend quite a while just standing outside of the door, deciding what I should do. In the end I push on the door. It is unlocked.

A thought crosses my mind; Kaho and the older woman had been angry at me for wandering at night or in the morning. Was that not what I had just done? Had I unintentionally fulfilled the past? It takes a moment of comprehension for it to really sink in. I should get used to it. It is normal. People will be telling me about my future all my life.

Once inside I decide to lock the door buy hooking the latch back over itself. Out of similar respect as Kaho did, I take off my shoes. Tiredness creeps into my eyes; I have to find where I am supposed to sleep.

It only takes a small while of absent wandering until I find an empty room with an empty futon already laid out. There is a desk on the side of the room which is bare of anything except a small lamp and a rectangular piece of paper.

I hear a crunch under my feet as I step on a pair of glasses in the dark. A pang of guilt sweeps through me. Am I now responsible for impairing someone sight? But then again, their future is my past, a future in where the glasses are unbroken.

The paper on the desk turns out to be an envelope. I flick on the light, its sudden brightness makes me flinch, but the rest of the house remains silent.

‘Akira’ is printed on the front of the envelope. I flip it open and take out a letter, written on firm washi paper. Most of it is written in characters, but a few words are also printed in English, which luckily I find familiar.

Dear Akira

You will not receive this letter until after I have left Shizouka, and I do hope you do not get too lonely without me. By the time you get this letter I should already be in Tokyo if all goes well.

I plan to write to you often, and I hope you do not forget to write to me back as I have included my uncle's address and my address in England at the end of this letter, however I fear that as the nations are at war, the mail may not be very efficient.

I must have you know that I did never wish to leave, and I most certainly will return as soon as possible, hopefully soon after this conflict is over. I will see you again soon at that time, but I will write to you even sooner before I have to depart the country.

Stay safe and continue to try your best in English lessons

Heartfelt regards,

-June.

A letter from June? So June was indeed a person. This must be the very same June that the others had been referring to earlier. Had they blamed my behaviour that had angered them on the fact that this June had left?

I fold the letter back in half, unsure what to think about it as I slide it back into the envelope and slide the flap closed. I choose not to worry, perhaps I will find out soon enough. Instead, without even changing my clothes (because I have no idea where they are) I simply lay down on the futon and let myself fall asleep.