to be awake, walking through the park with an emotionless look on his face.
A modern day samurai, a katana on his hip was hidden by a black trench
and dried blood under his fingernails from his recent assignment. He strolled
past a small lake and in the distance, he heard music coming from a bench.
A lady, donned in flowing pants and a royal blue top sits on the bench. Nimble
fingers strummed a sitar and filled the morning air with relaxing, exotic sound.
The samurai was quickly intrigued, but was prepared to pass her without colloquy.
She raised her head and observed him walking towards her before she dropped
her head with a soft smile. “Are you proud of the bodies that fall by your blade?”
His footsteps froze, his eyes narrowed, and his head tilted in her direction.
“What do you mean?” he asked. He watched her fingers pluck the strings softer,
eyes full of knowledge meeting his. “Are you not a samurai? I know your kind.”
“And what do you know of us?” he challenged.
“You’re naive to what this world needs for change. You spill blood for the evil.”
His hand tightened in his pocket, a small surge of rage built within his core.
“You know nothing of me. I fight to better the system in place. For my mother,
slain with no justice and for my kin separated from me. I want to alter the law,
have people in place to fix the wrong-doings, and finally gain peace for all.”
The sitar player only smiled softly and stopped playing the sitar completely.
Her small fingers released the strings and she raised it for him to take, calmly
waiting for him to come close. “Take my hand,” she said with laughter
on the edge of her lips. He stared at it dubiously. “Come now, one moment
of your time. I don’t bite.” Curiosity got the better of this morning samurai
and he took a step forward, removing his stained hand from his pocket
and slowly placing his hand in hers.
A surge of heat shot through his hand and he felt as if he soul was sucked
from his body. Visions of his present, his past, his future flashed before him.
Colors burst before his eyes at what would happen if he kept fighting for beliefs
and a leader that he thought true. He could hear the screams, the battle cries,
see the flames and the betrayal, smell the smoke and the burning homes.
With a gasp, everything went into rewind and he yanked his hand from hers.
“Do you understand?” she asked, but it fell upon deaf ears as he stumbled
backwards and fought to catch his breath. “Go,” she breathed, “Your bed
awaits you.” The samurai stared at her in disbelief as he started to walk
down the path again, but he turned back and said, “I don’t know what you’ve
done to me... but I will make sure that never happens.” The sitar player already
had begun to strum again as he held his hand close to himself and continued
on his way home.
Even in sleep the colors continued to rush before his eyes, his skin burning with
heat and his body thrashing the nightmares that plagued from his encounter that
occurred days ago. Cold sweats surrounded him even in small naps and the
samurai lost the drive he once held to kill everyone and everything that stood
in the way of a better future for where he lived. “What have you done to me,”
he seethed as he found the sitar player sitting on the same bench where they
met before. “I simply opened your eyes to the truth,” was her quiet reply, eyes
closed as she strummed a tune to welcome in the reds and oranges that came
with the sunrise that morning. “You’ve ruined me,” he whispered violently. His
feet moved him to pace back and forth, arms held close to himself as he attempted
to harm her with the deadliest glare he could muster up from within.“I can’t even
sleep without feeling like something is melting my skin.”
“So, fix it.” their eyes met, clashing as his narrowed viciously. The samurai was
furious and the desire to end her life was strong, but the sitar player could only
watch as he rubbed his palm into his eyes and stormed off down the path. Music
followed his footsteps as he clenched his fists and returned to another night full
of nightmares. Like a map laid out, the samurai watched as the visions he was
plagued with came to life. Houses began to burn, lives were wrongly taken, and
the screams that plagued his mind were now a reality as he fought within himself
to not leave the town behind. The mornings were like infernos and greys fell from
the sky as ash from the buildings littered the streets. The samurai realized that
the leader he was once working with was not who he thought he was at all. Even
the self-notion that he had been brainwashed this whole time made him feel lost.
‘Fix it.’ the samurai’s head rang with these words and he pulled his blade from its
sheath, eyes of resolve and remorse reflecting back at him. That morning, he held
his doorknob in his palm for what he felt might be the last time in a while. He slammed the door shut and he walked through the sitar player’s path in the park, registering her absence from her bench. His blade went into overdrive and the fire blazed under his veins as he threw himself into war and tried as best as he could to keep the bodies to a minimum under his blade.
Weeks later, the sitar player hummed softly and strummed her sitar with a touch that was as soft as a feather. The tune barely rose to be heard along the path and the sound of boots against the pavement brought her eyes up to see the samurai that she thought dead on the path. Their eyes met briefly and he walked past her, acting as if he didn’t register who she was. “The flames are gone,” he replied, her eyes rising and looking at his back. “I took your advice and now I can sleep.” Her lips curved into the faintest of smiles and she shook her head softly before she prepared her fingers to play once more. The samurai continued on his path home and unfortunately would never cross paths with the sitar player again, her memory and her music forever lingering in the back of his mind.
No comments:
Post a Comment