Michiko Kazuno was said to have the hands of a god. She created masterpieces with delicate fingers; leave her alone with a lump of clay, and she would soon turn it into the finest piece of art. Yet, there's something to be said about being a woman w...
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AUTUMN COMES, and with it, death. The leaves turn yellow, the sun hides behind grey clouds, and the world as it once was fades away to nothing but a vague memory. It's beautiful, of course, in its own way. But the autumnal colours only serve as a reminder that this is all an illusion, a mirage created by the cruellest and most unforgiving forces known to mankind; the end of life as we know it, and the beginning of a new one.
For Michiko Kazuno, autumn brings sorrow, sadness, depression, fear, and despair. Autumn also means that she's dying.
She knows this— everyone does. Time ticks by, slowly and surely; weeks pass without a sound, and each day becomes a blur. Her mind wanders far and wide, thoughts spiralling into darker places. The places where she can't escape from; the corners of her mind that no one ever really sees. Sometimes she wonders what's on the other side of those dark places- because there's always something beyond, something she's not sure even her own heart can reach.
Michiko wonders if there would come a day when, finally, she could reach it.
Sometimes she thinks about it— the end of her life, or at least the beginning of it. What kind of person will she be once she reaches whatever lies beyond? A ghost? Will she become nothing more than someone who was alive in their last few minutes? Will she live in an empty shell, never knowing love again?
Will they find her body, still warm and alive, and carry it away?
Sometimes she feels like crying— because, despite everything, she doesn't want to die, not just yet. Not so soon after all the good things have gone out of the world— all the memories, and laughter, and smiles.
And the worst part is, she has no idea whether anyone would notice. Because she knows, deep down, there's no one left who would care, and no one left who will mourn.
She's dying. We all are. Michiko has long since accepted her impending demise. Nothing can live forever. Not her pet frog, Frosh. Not her cactus, Cactus Everdeen. Not even her beloved cat, Minnie. Nothing. Not even her. The seasons are cruel. The leaves fall, the flowers wilt. Spring comes again, but it's never enough to fill her chest with joy.
The sun will set, and life will end.
People will forget.
She'll forget.
She doesn't want to.
If she has to carve her name in the world to be remembered, so be it.
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