Temple of Memories The pitter patter of the autumn rain on the roof was the tenor to the composition of mother nature’s instruments. The rain started early in the morning, wetting the red and orange colours of the trees, who like mothers, provided shelter to the forest animals. An owl sat in a tree and a rabbit along with her bunnies plopped their heads from the hole in a mound to watch the rain drip from above. As for Mr. Porcupine, he was not too pleased with the sudden rainfall and had to cancel his planned meeting with his good friend Mr. Badger. A scanty stone path wet with rain made its way to a gate which led into a humble garden. One could feel such Zen in the garden as its swirly dirt patterns and ancient shrubs incapacitated your inner being. That old stone path led itself to a wooden bridge, covering over a mirroring garden pond. The rain seemed to make the koi fish happy as they bragged their bright and magnificent gleam in the water garden. Past the reeds and stone stepping paths trickled a delicate waterfall, overlooked by a noble gazebo. Past that gazebo and the stepping stones which guided over the calm waters was a house. It was a pleasant house, clean, modest and simple in the obvious Japanese style. Inside a girl sat at her desk writing. Her room was artistically cluttered, draped with wall paintings, portraits and posters. Her shelf was leaning from the hefty weight of books, mostly on history, fiction novels, literature and music. Soft music was playing in the background, a modern yet traditional iteration of a fusion between synthetic jazz, piano, hip hop and traditional east Asian flute music. The artist had an odd name partnered with funky green artwork on the front cover of the vinyl; an underground album which was probably only bought by twenty people. In harmony with the gentle jazz and relaxing beat of the snare and kick drum the rain fell onto the roof, captivating a tranquil mood. Outside the bronze bells chimed in the slight breeze of the wind in unison with the faint melody of the forest bird. A paper was thrown at the wall in frustration and crumpled onto the wooden floor. With a hand on her forehead, she let out a sigh, “I just cannot seem to write a meaningful story for the life of me.” Even with displacement in the air the natural melodies continued and drowned out the tension. Clearing her throat, she stood out of her chair to stretch and rub her eyes. Glancing around the room she noticed her guitar and made a mental note, “That thing has sat there for a while. I thought I would have become a musician by now, but I don’t have anymore motivation in me.” With a sagging heart and waning motivation, but a mind begging her to pick up the instrument, she passed it and headed towards the shoji, the thin sliding door that divided the rooms from each other. She entered the kitchen, opening the fridge for the fourth time that day hoping that any food had magically appeared. Without any luck scavenging “good food,” she reheated the kettle full of water that she forgot about hours prior which now sat cold. Like she was starving, she investigated the cabinets once more and to her delight she found a loaf of shokupan bread. With immediate desire she placed a slice of cheese on its face and drizzled honey onto it. “Not very traditional,” she thought to herself, but it was one way to feed herself. While she sat at the table drinking tea and devouring the bread, her eyes in focus caught to the calendar. It would be another three days until she was forced to repeat the boring regulating machine that was school. With regained energy she returned to her room and sat at her computer. Starting the mind enslaving machine she scrolled her social media and caught up with online friends. Again, the depressing reality of seeing no notifications was no use in stopping her from mind numbingly refreshing and browsing the web. Drooling, she gained more unneeded information as her browsing habits kept growing. If it wasn’t for the air-shattering sound of a zap and the blackening of the room she would have continued browsing for hours. The room was dark except for the evening light that flooded through the house, now much darker than before for surely a couple of hours had passed. It was amazing that the record player was still playing the ugly green album covered vinyl, for surely it would have seemed to have been broken by now. Remembering the rare instance of the breaker box breaking and needing a reset, she yawned and trudged her feet across the floor. Closing the house door behind her, she sat down and plopped two ugly pine green gum boots onto her feet. Zip. She zipped up her bright yellow rain jacket and tucked her braided blonde hair into the hood. Remembering there was a toolbox in the shed, she walked into the drizzling rain. Plop plop. Her gum boots splashed in the courtyard. Making her way past the humble garden patch and nearly stepping on a head of lettuce, she reached the dusty shed. Creak. She opened the door and coughed, battling away the dust follicles in the air. Reaching for the light switch in the darkness she realized what she was attempting and gawked at her stupidity, choosing to fumble in the dark instead. Crash. She found the toolbox. Blindly picking up the remains, she dragged a large red wrench out of the shed with her. Finally making her way to the breaker box by the holly bush, she cranked the bolts away and yanked open the lid. Staring at it with a fogged mind, it took her a bit to figure out that she had to press the big RESET button and heave the red lever. Sigh. She should spend time in the real world more often. After returning the bulky wrench to the shed, her eye was caught by the miniature pagoda statue she built with her father when she was nine. The memories of the time spent with her father and the crooked ridge which made her laugh as a child captivated her for only a moment before she returned to the overhanging home entrance. As she was setting her gum boots onto the threshold she must have knocked into a pillar, for a swallow tail butterfly had flown out from its hiding and into the cracked door of the store house, a disconnected extension to the main house. Hypnotized by its beauty, she followed it into the storehouse. Creak. Cough. Just like the shed, dust had found a home here, luckily a little more bearable. Darting around a corner, she hastily chased the swallowtail. Crash. She tripped on a box, spilling its contents. Like waking from a dream, she shook her head and dubiously stuffed the remains back into the box. Before closing the lid, a twinkle in the box caught her eye. It was a portrait, that of which was of her grandmother. Like a flood, memories rushed through her brain. She remembered the time she enjoyed her stay at her grandmother’s farm, the cute animals in the field, the orchid with ancient apple trees, the time she would sit on her grandmother’s lap as she elegantly played piano, and the angry fat lard of a goose which would chase her from his pond. The dinners, oh how marvelous they were! A grand smorgasbord of sausage, buttered greens, crispy delights, yummy beans, tittle bites, egg salad, a pinch of salt with savoury ballad. “All around the table, round and round, crispy turnips turning brown, wine spilled but it’s okay, it doesn’t matter for we feast today.” Spinning and spinning, bopping and dropping, laughing and singing, heads in shoulders to the music swaying. Reciting literature, playing out skits, barnyard hide ‘n seek, and grown up talk. It could have gone forever, the merry tunes and jazzy licks trotted in her mind for a matter of minutes before they were interrupted. Wooosh. Snapping from her blissed dream state, she shut the open window before the biting wind got hold of her. Seeking desires of replenished ecstatic memories, she paced herself in the room, staring at the beautiful Japanese paintings, calligraphy texts from far away lands, the household objects and family items. She stopped. Snatching her attention, she grabbed a portrait of her friends which was sitting on a dusty shelf. Tears swelled in her eyes and her cheeks reddened. Wiping them away she beamed at the image of her friends, Kira, Taylor, Ben, all sitting on an old wooden log in their favourite forest. Allowing the tears to return she yearned to relive the moments at Starlight Falls. The mischievous laughter at Red Ogre Diner, food fights at Blue Back School, deep conversations at Oak Wind forest and the Triple Berry Buster Delight milkshakes at The Eleven Blue Egyptians Café. Oh how she missed her friends and how happy she was whenever they got the chance to speak! However, everything changed, nothing was the same anymore. They were stolen by time, poised to pursue their respective duties and to move along in the world. Whenever they did speak, for it was rare, the magic and harmony were gone. The drifting had gone for too long and the past had faded into the clouds. She cried. Thud. She closed the door to the storehouse and walked into the blackness of night for an hour had passed. Turning the tangerine coloured light on and preparing the autumn night candles, she hummed to the drizzling of rain on the overhanging section between the two buildings. She was calm, admiring the croak of the night gown frog and the snippy crickets. Entering the house, she prepared a warm brew of tea and headed to her room. Snuggling into her pajamas, she sat down at her desk and wrote; for hours. She wrote about how she never seemed good enough, how she made up lousy reasons for struggling and how her grades were failing. She also wrote about how she wished she played her guitar more, her struggle with social media addiction, and how she wanted to live her life to the fullest. Finishing her brain bubble and letting release of the shaved pencil, she stuffed the emotional piece into her journal. Yawn. Now it was time for bed, resting her head on the pillow and snuggling under the sheets, her face glimmered in the candlelight. Resting her weary eyes she fell asleep. *** Splash Splash. The brook trickled through the garden reflecting the hallowed blue light. Fireflies emitted their beauty and the soft breeze made its sound. A beautiful flute played, captivating the crickets and the toads which harmonized in grand composition. With feet on two stones, she gleefully watched the midnight glowing fish gliding in the water, evading the pink pedal lily pads. With pinecone in her hand she glanced over the smooth surface of the glassy water, remarking at her image. Her face was not of tiresome nature, nor did it have the blemishes and acne it had before, and her hair finally flowed freely with volume and hydrated magnificence. Marvelling at the pinecone, she released it, letting it flow free with the elegant stride of the blue midnight fish. It bumped into a few challenges on the way, lily pads, yet persisted into the waters. Leaping over a small waterfall, it popped back from under the waters and to the rhythm of the song. It swayed under the bridge into darkness, meeting the glowing light on the other side. That was her life she reckoned, a life which she should enjoy till the end, for she was only on this planet for a while and she would have to make the best out of it through happiness. Even with grave obstacles life should be taken for what it’s worth and should be enjoyed. No matter your situation you should live life to the fullest because you only have one attempt. ~~~~~~ Thank you to whoever made it this far : ) This story is very special to me because it is a narrative and alternative look into my personal life and some of the things I have gone through. Obviously its setting is in the Japanese style because I wrote it right after watching videos on Heian period Japan : ) And yes, the character is somewhat an iteration of myself, but as a girl and probably much cuter. I will be writing more in the future, do not worry ~Love Otus Writers note to Kira, Taylor and Ben:I love you
This has to be one of the greatest short stories I have ever read. Very descriptive with wonderful wording and a clear personal attachment, the passion is felt. I must say Otus, this is amazing. Thank you my friend, thank you. :')
Otus, my guy.. holy hell. I'm speechless. Not only were you able to paint this beautiful scenic picture in my head but you were able to toy with my emotions while doing it. Thus, may be because I am a super emotional mess, but either way congratulations. I feel like anything I say will never compare to what you have written, and I wish I could compile the words to give you a proper worded reaction. Between you and Ben's insane talent, I'm starting to feel left out.. share some will you? These damn Canadians. also, love you too my friend.. never stop writing :')
Bump again, only because I am writing a story that connects to this one and I just wanted to give people the chance to check it out
