The archive of the forgotten

humming

I stare at the little ray of sunlght seeping through a small crack of the curtain made of bamboo and the elegant silk ones in front of it to make them look more elegant and protect me better from the rays of the killing sun. I feel a pearly tear on my cheek as I long for the comforting warmth of the sun. I flex my hands, my joints hurt like I am twenty years older than I am. I softly brush my fingers through my hair I pretend not to notice the think beautiful dark blue hair that falls on the ground, but I do not succeed. I feel defeated as I reminisce about the days I used to prance around on my horse, people being mesmerised by the mere look of me. The tales of my beauty and magic had spread far and wide, they'd say my long hair had magic abilities. I coldly wipe away the tear from my porcelain white face, the veins in my hands bright blue trough the unhealthy pale skin. I used to draw the on to accentuate them, now I curse the look of it. I hear some noises and somebody enters my room.

Their Clothing covers every part of their body and their veil obstructs their eyes. I know the beautiful fabric the veil is made of. I recognise my own craftsmanship, and smile faintly as he puts down the tray with food for me, all of it thoroughly cleaned and made to keep me healthy. I miss food that tastes like joy, I miss the sweet silkyness of honey. The sweet crisp of a roasted duck skin between your teeth, the heartiness of patatoes or the simple pleasure of raw fish. Now every morning I only eat carefully inspected fruits and have a cup of healing tea, every lunch I have a bowl of rice with again, a cup of healing tea and my dinner always consists of soup, with again the same tea. It feels incredibly repetitive but my body can no longer stomach anything else. I smile and nod slightly.

He puts down several buckets of pearls. "They are from the coast you requested. The number is exactly the ones you have asked for." "Thank you Haruki." "My pleasure master." He says as he bows quickly and leaves the room.

I stare at the fruit but feel no desire in eating it, although beautifully cut and presented it symbolises my hopelessness. I hardly taste them as I put them into my mouth as my mind is sunken into the sheer doubt of my own health. A rotting brain..... it sound worse than it is. Does it sound worse? I am not certain, and to be fair it is not rotting, or at least not yet. It is simply dying, while my body is not. Or well, that is what doctor say, sometimes I suspect they simply do not know so they said the most outrageous thing possible, because being honest, nobody would be brave or foolish enough to pry my head open to check. As I think I feel a warmth on my hand, I look at it, the funlight has found it's way inside. I smile as I touch it and the reflection of light softly plays with my skin slowly turning it red and painful and as the tears leave my eyes I feel the misplaced smile on my face. I tug on a short rope and the curtains close further. I take a deep breath and look at my weathered hands, wheathered from my art and my passion.

I stand up, my beautiful robe made from torquoise and white pearls silk trailing on the ground. I grab the buckets of pearls and sit down in front of an incredibly big shell that fuctions as a tiny bath. I turn on the faucet and scalding hot seawater elegantly falls into it. I put all the pearls into the shell and put my hands in the boiling water, for one second I feel the pain but I bite down and do not move my hands, you just need to....wait till your hands feel comfortable my master used to say. I smile and start to hum the same song as always as I turn off the faucet and pour a special acid into the tub. I softly hum a song that has accompnied me through my whole life. The song of the waves they call it. I smile, I am happy I can still hear the sea through the closed windows of my room. I wish I could once again feel the irritating sand between my toes, I wish I could stand on the rocks while the waves crash into it and I throw pebbles into the big potential we call ocean. I close my dark brown eyes and try to forget I have not talked to him in 8 years. What does he look like now, we were so beautiful back when we 20. We were so....happy when we were 22, we were so wise when we were 24. I feel a tear fall in the tub with pearls.