A Sunset On The Empire

'Whispers of Home and Whispers of War'

1932

On the road to a new life.

Paper flowers.

She only saw paper flowers.

The young girl looked upon the blue ocean, her hands gripping the bars of the boat, and her eyes filled with excitement, yet curiosity too.

Paper flowers littered the ocean, melting into the cold water, as brown coffins floated in the sea of Shanghai. There was a strange sense of sullenly, as if the sea itself was crying out to the young girl to save it from these graves, as if that could ever happen.

"Maman?" She suddenly said, tugging at her smiling mother's petticoat. "Why, why are there paper flowers and coffins?"

Maman smiled. She picked her young girl up, stroking her hair, and said, "They're placed in the ocean, to honour someone. The paper flowers are set to dedicate the body to the ocean, after passing away."

"Maman, I don't understand."

Maman laughed, as she saw her little girl perch herself toward the ocean, trying to touch one of the wilted petals. Obviously, she couldn't reach, and sat down in an annoyed manner.

"Oh, Belle, my dear, the flowers are meant to well, say goodbye to the person. The loved one." She hugged her daughter. "You put one for someone because you, love them."

"Thank you, Maman." The young girl said warmly, hugging her mother, her eyes shining. "I'd always a flower for you. Because I love you."

"Belle." The woman said, tears in her eyes. They hugged each other, then set their eyes back to the ocean, the city's distance from the boat fading into the deep, blue water. A sunset emerged.

"Je t'aime, Belle."

"Je t'aime, Maman."

And the two watched the clouds sink into the sunset, their hearts both equally different in the fear of starting a new life in a new city.

Shanghai.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•
1942
10 years later.

Two hands wrapped themselves around an old record, the dust flying out throughout the small home. They hurriedly clutched it, securing it, then placing it into to other hands.

"That will be, fourteen fabi please." A woman said, in a shaking voice. She reluctantly set the record player into a chubby man's arms, his smile somewhat odd and distasteful.

"I do say, Mari, you've been selling quite a lot of your antiques lately.. Is anything wrong? His British accent echoed through the pane of the door.

The woman sighed. "No, Thomas, it's just been a quite hard these days. With this threat of the invasion, and the panic, taxes have gone up, and I need some money to get by. Good day, now."

Mari tried to close the door, but was stopped by the concerned look on the man's face. He started to say something, but the ugly look on Mari's face probably stopped him. He scampered along, record player in tow, his concerned look never fading. Mari couldn't decide if it was her or for the threat.

She closed the door, then walked into the tiny, somewhat living room. She again, sighed, laying her head against the torn pillow.

"Maman? Is everything okay?" Someone said, as they walked into the room. Her blonde hair greasily swung across her back, unwashed, yet still looked like her mother's; long and pretty.

"Yes, Belle, it's just, I'm a little tired." A small smile appeared on her lips, her eyes shining for the first time in a while. She squeezed her hand.