These are a couple short storys from within a game I am playing.
I fell in love with them. They are wonderful. I hope you enjoy them as much as I do.
The Upstreamers
I fell in love with them. They are wonderful. I hope you enjoy them as much as I do.
The Upstreamers
SPOILERS! (Click to view)
Strong winds have always blown across this vast grassy plain.
Perhaps the area's topography has something to do with it, but the direction of the wind remains constant, irrespective of the time or season:
From east to west, from the horizon where the sun rises to the horizon where the sun sets. Swept by the unceasing winds, the misshapen trunks and branches of shrubs all incline to the west. Tall grasses do not grow here, and the grasses that do grow all lie flat on the ground, bending westward.
Caravans and herding folk traverse the single road that crosses the plain. They do not come and go, they only go, moving from east to west, using the wind at their backs to gain distance. Travelers heading west to east always use the circuitous route that snakes around the southern mountains. It is much farther that way, but much faster than crossing the plain head-on into the wind. The road across the plain is called the Wind Stream. Just as the flow of a great river never changes direction, the footsteps of those who use the road have not changed direction since the distant past, nor are they likely to change far into the future: from east to west.
Human shapes that appear from the horizon where the sun rises disappear over the horizon where the sun sets.
They never pass oncoming travelerswith only the rarest exceptions. The first time she passed Kaim on the Wind Stream, the girls was just an infant.
So, my grandmother was alive then?
In response to the girl's untroubled question, Kaim smiles and answers,
She was. And I remember what a nice old lady she was, too.
Looking back down the road, the girl points toward the line of hills fading off into the distance.
My grandmother crossed seven hills on her journey.
Is seven a lot?
Uh-huh. Grandma lived a long time. Most people end their journeys after five hills. The people they leave behind build a little grave where they ended their journey, and then they keep traveling...
The girl points down at the ground where she is standing.
This is as far as I've come, she says with a proud, happy smile.
The religion of the girl and her family professes a pious believe that if they devote their lives to walking eastward, against the flow of the Wind Stream, they will arrive at the easternmost source of the Stream itself. People call believers in that religion, The Upstreamers.
The word carries a hint of fear and sadness, but also a trace of contempt and scorn.
The Upstreamers are devoid of worldly desires. They live their lives for no greater purpose than traveling eastward on foot. They are free of doubt. They give birth to children en route, and they continue their journey while raising their children. When they age and their strength gives out, their journey ends. But their family's journey continues.
From child to grandchild to great-grandchild, their belief is carried on. The journey of this girl's family was begun by her late grandmother, who began walking from the Wind Stream's western verge with her son, who was then the age the girl is now.
The Upstreamers do not walk for the entire year, of course. During the season when the winds are especially strongfrom the late autumn to early springthey take up residence in various post towns scattered along the road and earn day wages by performing tasks that the townsfolk themselves refuse to do. Some Upstreamers choose to stay in the towns, while others, conversely, take townspeople with them when they return to the road in the spring.
These are people who have fallen in love during the long winter,
Or boys who dream of travel,
or grown-ups who have tired of town life. Such are the reasons the townsfolk look upon the Upstreamers with complicated gazes.
The little girl's mother was one of those who joined the journey mid-way, and he girl herself, some years from now, might fall in love with someone in a post town somewhere. She might choose to live in the town, or she could just as well invite her lover to join her on the road.
She has no idea at this point what lies in store for her. The girl's father calls out to her: Time to go!
Their brief rest is over.
She seems sorry to leave and stands up reluctantly. Too bad, she says. I wish I could have talked to you more. But we have to get to the next town by the time the snows start.
Constantly exposed to upwinds, her cheeks are red and cracked, her lips chapped, but her smile is wonderful a she wishes Kaim a safe journey.
It is the serene smile of one who believes completely in the purpose of her life, without the slightest doubt. Will I see you again somewhere? she asks.
Probably.
Kaim answers, smiling back at her, but he can never match that smile of hers. He is now in the midst of a journey that will take him beyond the western end of the Wind Stream. He heads to the battlefield as a mercenary, and by the time the western battle is over, a new battle will have begun in the east.
It will be a long, cruel journey, with nothing to believe in. When he meets he girl again along he way, Kaim's smile will have taken on even more shadows than it has now. Perhaps as a parting gift for him, the girl sings a few short lines for him:
This wind, where does it blow from?
Where does it start its journey here?
Does it come from where life begins?
Or does it begin where life ends?
Goodbye, then, the girl says, trudging on, one labored step at a time, hair streaming in the headwind.
Ten long years have flowed by when Kaim next meets the girl.
It is spring, when the grassland is dotted with lovely white flowers.
She has become the wife of a young man who does tailoring and shoe repair in one of the post towns.
This is my third spring here, she says, patting her swollen belly fondly.
In a few days, she will give birth to a child. She will become a mother.
And your parents...? Kaim asks.
She shrugs and glances eastward.
They are continuing their journey. I'm the only one who stayed on here. Kaim does not ask why she has done this.
Continuing he journey is one way to live, and staying in a town is another.
Neither can be judged to be more correct than the other. The only answer for the girl can be seen in her smiling face. But never mind about me, she says looking at him suspiciously.
You haven't changed one little bit from the time we met so long ago.
For the thousand-year-old Kaim, ten years is nothing but a change in season.
Some lives are like that, he says, straining to smile.
Some people in this world can never grow old, no matter how long they live.
He looks at the girl, now grown into a woman, and wonders again, 'Living through endless ages of time: is it a blessing, or a curse?' Kaim's remark hardly counts as an explanation, but the girl nods with a look of apparent understanding.
If that's the case, she says, You should be the one who goes to the place where the wind begins. You'd be the perfect Upstreamer.
She could be right: after all, the lifespan given to humans is far too short for anyone to travel against the Wind Stream as far as the starting point of the wind. Still, Kaim responds with a few slow shakes of his head.
I'm not qualified to make the journey.
No? Anybody can be an Upstreamer. Anybody, that is, who wants to see where the wind starts with his or her own eyes.
Having said this, however, the girl adds with a touch of sadness, No one has actually seen it, though, I guess. The place where the wind begins: that place is nowhere at all. Even if, after a long journey, one were to arrive at the eastern end of the Wind Stream, the wind would be blowing there, too. And not just an east wind. West wind, north wind, south wind: winds without limit, without end.
Human beings, who cannot live forever, daring to take a journey without end. This might be the ultimate tragedy, but it could just as well be the ultimate comedy. Kaim knows one thing, however: one cannot simply dismiss it as an exercise in futility. How about you? he asks the girl. Aren't you going to continue your journey soon?
She thinks about this for the space of a breath, and caressing her swollen belly, she cocks her head and says, I wonder... I might want to go on living the way I am now forever. Or then again, I might feel that desire to reach the starting point of the wind. All the Upstreamers without exception say that you can never know what might trigger a return to the journey. One day, without warning, you slough off the entire town life and start walking.
It is not always a matter of running into an Upstreamer and being lured back to the road: plenty of people set out on their own all of a sudden.
The teachings of the Upstreamers say that all human beings harbor a desire for endless travel. They probably are not aware of the desire because it is stashed away so far down in the breast that it is deeper than memory.
The instant something brings it to the surface, a person becomes and Upstreamer. Even if you have the desire, the girl says to Kaim.
I wonder...
It's true, she says. No question.
The look in her eyes is as straight-on and free of doubt as it was the last time he met her.
Fixing him with that look, she points to her own chest.
I haven't completely lost it myself.
But I'm sure you're happy with your present life?
Of course I am.
Do you really think the day will come when you will want to set out on the journey even if it means giving up that happiness?
Instead of answering, she gives him a gentle smile. Many years flow by, but every now and then, something reminds Kaim of the girl's wordsthat everyone harbors a desire for endless travel.
For Kaim, living itself is a journey without end.
In the course of his journey, he has witnessed countless deaths, and he has also witnessed countless births. Human life is all too short, too weak, and fleeting.
Yet, the more he dwells upon its evanescence, the more he feels, inexplicably, that words such as eternal, and perpetual apply more properly to life, finite as it is, than to anything else. Traveling down the Wind Stream for the first time in many years, Kaim spies the funeral of an Upstreamer.
A boy in mourning dress stands by the road holding out wildflowers to passing travelers, and urging them to offer up a flower to a noble soul who has made the long journey this far.
Kaim takes a flower and asks the boy, Is it a member of your family?
Uh-huh. My grandma.
The boy nods, his face the image of one Kaim knew so long ago.
The old woman lying in the coffin must be the girl. Kaim is sure of it.
Grandma traveled a long, long time. She brought my daddy with her when he was just a little boy. See that hill over there? She started walking from way, way beyond it, and she got all the way here.
So, the girl must've set out on her journey after all.
Turning her back on the town life, leading her child by the hand, she trod her way along the endless journey.
Her wish to aim for the place where the wind begins would be passed on to her child, her grandchild, and on through the succeeding generations.
To head for a land one could never hope to reach, and to do so generation after generation: this is another endless journey. Is it a tragedy?
A comedy?
Perhaps the serene smile on the face of the old woman in the coffin is the answer.
Kaim lays he flower at her feet as an offering.
The family members who have traveled with her join together in a song for the departed:
This wind, where does it blow from?
Where does it start its journey here?
Does it come from where life begins?
Or does it begin where life ends?
The wind blows.
It sweeps the vast grassland.
Kaim takes one long, slow step toward his destination.
Have a good trip! calls the boy.
Red and cracked as the girl's were so long ago, his cheeks soften in a smile as he waves to the departing traveler.
Strong winds have always blown across this vast grassy plain.
Perhaps the area's topography has something to do with it, but the direction of the wind remains constant, irrespective of the time or season:
From east to west, from the horizon where the sun rises to the horizon where the sun sets. Swept by the unceasing winds, the misshapen trunks and branches of shrubs all incline to the west. Tall grasses do not grow here, and the grasses that do grow all lie flat on the ground, bending westward.
Caravans and herding folk traverse the single road that crosses the plain. They do not come and go, they only go, moving from east to west, using the wind at their backs to gain distance. Travelers heading west to east always use the circuitous route that snakes around the southern mountains. It is much farther that way, but much faster than crossing the plain head-on into the wind. The road across the plain is called the Wind Stream. Just as the flow of a great river never changes direction, the footsteps of those who use the road have not changed direction since the distant past, nor are they likely to change far into the future: from east to west.
Human shapes that appear from the horizon where the sun rises disappear over the horizon where the sun sets.
They never pass oncoming travelerswith only the rarest exceptions. The first time she passed Kaim on the Wind Stream, the girls was just an infant.
So, my grandmother was alive then?
In response to the girl's untroubled question, Kaim smiles and answers,
She was. And I remember what a nice old lady she was, too.
Looking back down the road, the girl points toward the line of hills fading off into the distance.
My grandmother crossed seven hills on her journey.
Is seven a lot?
Uh-huh. Grandma lived a long time. Most people end their journeys after five hills. The people they leave behind build a little grave where they ended their journey, and then they keep traveling...
The girl points down at the ground where she is standing.
This is as far as I've come, she says with a proud, happy smile.
The religion of the girl and her family professes a pious believe that if they devote their lives to walking eastward, against the flow of the Wind Stream, they will arrive at the easternmost source of the Stream itself. People call believers in that religion, The Upstreamers.
The word carries a hint of fear and sadness, but also a trace of contempt and scorn.
The Upstreamers are devoid of worldly desires. They live their lives for no greater purpose than traveling eastward on foot. They are free of doubt. They give birth to children en route, and they continue their journey while raising their children. When they age and their strength gives out, their journey ends. But their family's journey continues.
From child to grandchild to great-grandchild, their belief is carried on. The journey of this girl's family was begun by her late grandmother, who began walking from the Wind Stream's western verge with her son, who was then the age the girl is now.
The Upstreamers do not walk for the entire year, of course. During the season when the winds are especially strongfrom the late autumn to early springthey take up residence in various post towns scattered along the road and earn day wages by performing tasks that the townsfolk themselves refuse to do. Some Upstreamers choose to stay in the towns, while others, conversely, take townspeople with them when they return to the road in the spring.
These are people who have fallen in love during the long winter,
Or boys who dream of travel,
or grown-ups who have tired of town life. Such are the reasons the townsfolk look upon the Upstreamers with complicated gazes.
The little girl's mother was one of those who joined the journey mid-way, and he girl herself, some years from now, might fall in love with someone in a post town somewhere. She might choose to live in the town, or she could just as well invite her lover to join her on the road.
She has no idea at this point what lies in store for her. The girl's father calls out to her: Time to go!
Their brief rest is over.
She seems sorry to leave and stands up reluctantly. Too bad, she says. I wish I could have talked to you more. But we have to get to the next town by the time the snows start.
Constantly exposed to upwinds, her cheeks are red and cracked, her lips chapped, but her smile is wonderful a she wishes Kaim a safe journey.
It is the serene smile of one who believes completely in the purpose of her life, without the slightest doubt. Will I see you again somewhere? she asks.
Probably.
Kaim answers, smiling back at her, but he can never match that smile of hers. He is now in the midst of a journey that will take him beyond the western end of the Wind Stream. He heads to the battlefield as a mercenary, and by the time the western battle is over, a new battle will have begun in the east.
It will be a long, cruel journey, with nothing to believe in. When he meets he girl again along he way, Kaim's smile will have taken on even more shadows than it has now. Perhaps as a parting gift for him, the girl sings a few short lines for him:
This wind, where does it blow from?
Where does it start its journey here?
Does it come from where life begins?
Or does it begin where life ends?
Goodbye, then, the girl says, trudging on, one labored step at a time, hair streaming in the headwind.
Ten long years have flowed by when Kaim next meets the girl.
It is spring, when the grassland is dotted with lovely white flowers.
She has become the wife of a young man who does tailoring and shoe repair in one of the post towns.
This is my third spring here, she says, patting her swollen belly fondly.
In a few days, she will give birth to a child. She will become a mother.
And your parents...? Kaim asks.
She shrugs and glances eastward.
They are continuing their journey. I'm the only one who stayed on here. Kaim does not ask why she has done this.
Continuing he journey is one way to live, and staying in a town is another.
Neither can be judged to be more correct than the other. The only answer for the girl can be seen in her smiling face. But never mind about me, she says looking at him suspiciously.
You haven't changed one little bit from the time we met so long ago.
For the thousand-year-old Kaim, ten years is nothing but a change in season.
Some lives are like that, he says, straining to smile.
Some people in this world can never grow old, no matter how long they live.
He looks at the girl, now grown into a woman, and wonders again, 'Living through endless ages of time: is it a blessing, or a curse?' Kaim's remark hardly counts as an explanation, but the girl nods with a look of apparent understanding.
If that's the case, she says, You should be the one who goes to the place where the wind begins. You'd be the perfect Upstreamer.
She could be right: after all, the lifespan given to humans is far too short for anyone to travel against the Wind Stream as far as the starting point of the wind. Still, Kaim responds with a few slow shakes of his head.
I'm not qualified to make the journey.
No? Anybody can be an Upstreamer. Anybody, that is, who wants to see where the wind starts with his or her own eyes.
Having said this, however, the girl adds with a touch of sadness, No one has actually seen it, though, I guess. The place where the wind begins: that place is nowhere at all. Even if, after a long journey, one were to arrive at the eastern end of the Wind Stream, the wind would be blowing there, too. And not just an east wind. West wind, north wind, south wind: winds without limit, without end.
Human beings, who cannot live forever, daring to take a journey without end. This might be the ultimate tragedy, but it could just as well be the ultimate comedy. Kaim knows one thing, however: one cannot simply dismiss it as an exercise in futility. How about you? he asks the girl. Aren't you going to continue your journey soon?
She thinks about this for the space of a breath, and caressing her swollen belly, she cocks her head and says, I wonder... I might want to go on living the way I am now forever. Or then again, I might feel that desire to reach the starting point of the wind. All the Upstreamers without exception say that you can never know what might trigger a return to the journey. One day, without warning, you slough off the entire town life and start walking.
It is not always a matter of running into an Upstreamer and being lured back to the road: plenty of people set out on their own all of a sudden.
The teachings of the Upstreamers say that all human beings harbor a desire for endless travel. They probably are not aware of the desire because it is stashed away so far down in the breast that it is deeper than memory.
The instant something brings it to the surface, a person becomes and Upstreamer. Even if you have the desire, the girl says to Kaim.
I wonder...
It's true, she says. No question.
The look in her eyes is as straight-on and free of doubt as it was the last time he met her.
Fixing him with that look, she points to her own chest.
I haven't completely lost it myself.
But I'm sure you're happy with your present life?
Of course I am.
Do you really think the day will come when you will want to set out on the journey even if it means giving up that happiness?
Instead of answering, she gives him a gentle smile. Many years flow by, but every now and then, something reminds Kaim of the girl's wordsthat everyone harbors a desire for endless travel.
For Kaim, living itself is a journey without end.
In the course of his journey, he has witnessed countless deaths, and he has also witnessed countless births. Human life is all too short, too weak, and fleeting.
Yet, the more he dwells upon its evanescence, the more he feels, inexplicably, that words such as eternal, and perpetual apply more properly to life, finite as it is, than to anything else. Traveling down the Wind Stream for the first time in many years, Kaim spies the funeral of an Upstreamer.
A boy in mourning dress stands by the road holding out wildflowers to passing travelers, and urging them to offer up a flower to a noble soul who has made the long journey this far.
Kaim takes a flower and asks the boy, Is it a member of your family?
Uh-huh. My grandma.
The boy nods, his face the image of one Kaim knew so long ago.
The old woman lying in the coffin must be the girl. Kaim is sure of it.
Grandma traveled a long, long time. She brought my daddy with her when he was just a little boy. See that hill over there? She started walking from way, way beyond it, and she got all the way here.
So, the girl must've set out on her journey after all.
Turning her back on the town life, leading her child by the hand, she trod her way along the endless journey.
Her wish to aim for the place where the wind begins would be passed on to her child, her grandchild, and on through the succeeding generations.
To head for a land one could never hope to reach, and to do so generation after generation: this is another endless journey. Is it a tragedy?
A comedy?
Perhaps the serene smile on the face of the old woman in the coffin is the answer.
Kaim lays he flower at her feet as an offering.
The family members who have traveled with her join together in a song for the departed:
This wind, where does it blow from?
Where does it start its journey here?
Does it come from where life begins?
Or does it begin where life ends?
The wind blows.
It sweeps the vast grassland.
Kaim takes one long, slow step toward his destination.
Have a good trip! calls the boy.
Red and cracked as the girl's were so long ago, his cheeks soften in a smile as he waves to the departing traveler.
Don't Forget Me Now, You Hear?
SPOILERS! (Click to view)
Brother dear!
The cry comes from someone behind as he wades through the post town's crowds. At first Kaim does not realize that the person is addressing him, and he walks on in search of lodging for the night.
But the cry comes again, all but clinging to him, Brother, dear! Big Brother!
This is puzzling.
He last visited the town eighty years ago. There can't be anyone here who knows him.
Wait, Big Brother! Don't go!
His puzzlement begins to take on an eerie edge, for the voice addressing him as Big Brother can only belong to an old woman.
Without letting his guard down, he turns around slowly.
Just as he thoughtit is an old woman.
Dressed in the clothes of a young girl, the tiny old woman is looking straight at Kaim with a bright smile on her face.
I think you may have the wrong person, he says, allowing his discomfort to show.
No I don't, She says with a big shake of the head and an expanding smile. You're Big Brother Kaim!
What?
What's wrong, Kaim, did you forget me?
Uh well I mean
He can't place her. Even if he were to succeed in doing so, he knows he has no acquaintances in this town. He wonders . . . could this be a chance re-encounter with someone he once met on the road? But no, he is sure he doesn't recognize her, and strangest of all, why would this woman who looks old enough to be his grandmother address him as Big Brother?
Don't pretend you don't know who I am Kaim! You're so mean!
She yells at him loudly enough that people in the crowd stop and stare at them.
It is not just the fact that she is shouting, of course, People always have to shout to be heard in these crowded streets. That alone would not attract attention. The old woman's voice is different from a normal adult yell. It is like the innocent, unrestrained cry of a little girl who throws her whole body into her scream.
People turn shocked expressions on the old woman and quickly avert their eyes.
Their dismay is understandable. The old woman has her stark white hair up tied up with a colourful ribbon, and her dress has the same floral pattern and floppy sleeves as a little girl's.
Many of the passerby look at the old woman with a mix of sympathy and pity on their faces.
Gradually, Kaim begins to comprehend the situation. This old woman has simply lived too long. This is why the past, locked away in her memory, has become realer to her then the reality before her eyes.
A middle-aged passerby tugs on Kaim's elbow.
If I were you I would just walk away. Don't get involved with her. She'll be nothing but trouble.
It's true. says the wife by his side, nodding. You're a stranger here, so you don't know, but this old woman is senile. You can ignore her. She'll forget everything in five minutes.
They may be right, but the fact remains is this old woman knows Kaim's name.
In the little girl part of her mind, she thinks of Kaim as her Big Brother.
He tries probing his distant memories.
He spent no more than a few days here so long ago. He got to know very few people, and there can't be any of those left who still remember him.
When Kaim goes on standing before the old woman, the nosy middle age couple becomes indignant. You try to be helpful and what does it get you? snorts the husband.
Let them work it out themselves. adds the wife. Let's just go. Which they proceed to do.
Winding up the voice for maximum shrillness, the old woman calls out to them as they walk off in a huff. Don't forget me now, you hear?
In that instant, Kaim's memory makes the connection.
The old woman greets his look of recognition with an expression of joy.
Do you remember me now? she cries. I'm Shushu. It's meShushu!
He does remember her. A little girl he met in this town eighty years ago.
Perhaps five or six years old at the time, she was a precocious little thing whose lack of shyness with strangers came from her being the daughter of the innkeeper.
Somewhere along the way, she had probably picked up a phrase she heard someone using and so whenever a guest would depart after a number of days at the inn, instead of the standard Goodbye or Thank you she would see the person off with a smile and a cheery Don't forget me now, you hear?
Only now is he suddenly able to see the girl beneath the wrinkles, Kaim must avert his gaze from the old woman's face.
What's wrong Big brother?
He cannot bring himself to look directly at Shushu's vacant stare.
Eighty year have gone by! What can they talk about when a man who never ages meets a little girl from the distant past who has aged too much?
Let me through here, please. Sorry, let me through here, please.
Forcing his way through the crowd, a young man rushes up to where Shushu and Kaim are standing. Great-grandmother! How often do I have to ask you not to go out without telling me?
After scolding the old woman, he turns to Kaim with an apologetic bow
I'm terribly sorry if she's been a bother to you. She's old and getting senile. I hope you can forgive her.
Shushu herself, however, angrily purses her lips and demands to know, What are you talking about? I'm just playing with Big Brother Kaim, What's wrong with that?
She peers at the young man and asks, Who are you?
The young man turns a sad gaze on Kaim and begins to apologize again.
With a pained smile, Kaim stops him.
Kaim knows that, at times, it can be sadder and more heartbreaking for a life to be prolonged than for it to be cut short. Sad and heartbreaking through a life may be, however, no one has the right to trample on it.
She just can't seem to get it through her head she's old. Even if I hold a mirror up to her she asks, Who's that old lady? The young man, whose name is Khasche, further explains the situation to Kaim, she might forget that she ate breakfast, but her memories from childhood can be clear as a bell.
Kaim nods in silent understanding.
Khasche and Kaim sit on a bench in the town plaza, watching Shushu pick flowers.
She is apparently making a floral wreath for her long-lost Big Brother.
But really sir, do you have time for this? Weren't you in a hurry to get somewhere?
No, I'm fine, don't worry.
Thanks very much.
He smiles for the first time and says, I haven't seen her this happy in ages.
The young man seems convinced that his great-grandmother has encountered in Kaim a person who resembles someone she knew as a child. Kaim allows him this. He knows that Khasche cannot, and need not, imagine the existence of a person who never ages.
Her health has really deteriorated lately. Whenever she runs a fever, we wonder if this is going to be the end for her and we prepare for the worst. But then she springs right back. Sometimes we joke that her mind is so far gone, she's forgotten to die.
Kaim sees the young man in profile, Khasche has a gentle smile on his face as he speaks of his great-grandmother. No doubt, when he was little, she used to hold him and play with him. Grown up now, Khasche watches over his Great-grandmother like a parent watching his own child.
He calls out to her, That's nice, Great-Grandmother. I haven't seen you weave flowers together like that for a long time!
Squatting in the grass with a fistful of flowers, Shushu answers, That's not true. I made a wreath for him yesterday!
Then she says to Kaim, isn't that right, Big Brother? You wore it in your hair for me didn't you?
Kaim cups his hands around his mouth and calls back to her, I certainly did, it smelt so nice!
Shushu's face became as mass of joyful wrinkles. Overcome with emotion, Khasche bows his head.
Kaim asks Khasche, are you the one who takes care of her?
Uh-huh. Me and my wife Cynthia.
How about your parents? Or even your grandparents? Are they still living?
Khasche shrugs and says, I'm the only other member of my family left alive.
His grandparents both died in an epidemic twenty years ago.
His father lost his life in the war that enveloped this area ten years ago.
His mother, Shushu's granddaughter, aged more rapidly than her own mother, and the lamp of her life was snuffled out five years ago.
So my great-grandmother has had to keep holding funeral over the years-for her Children and grandchildren, Before we even noticed, she had become the oldest person in town. It must be lonely living that way
I'm sure. answers Kaim.
It might even be a kindness of the gods to let people fade out of mentally when they've lived too long. At least that's how I've come to see it lately. You would think she would feel lonely to be left behind that way, but she's not lonely at all. To live long means you have a lot of memories. Maybe it's not such a bad thing to live in the world of you memories during the last days for your life.
Shushu stands up, her arms filled with flowers.
Big Brother Kaim! I'm going to make a floral wreath for you right now! And if I have any flowers left over, I'll make one for this other person too.
Kaim and Khasche look at each other with bewildered smiles.
Why are you smiling like that? Shushu asks. Are you two friends now?
She opens her wrinkle-ringed eyes wide in surprise and gives the two men a joyful smile, and collapses into the grass.
Khasche starts to run for a doctor but Kaim grabs his arm and holds him back, saying, You'd better stay with her.
Ironically, Kaim, who can never truly know what it feels like to age, has been present, for that very reason, at countless deaths over the years.
His experience tells him that Shushu will not recover this time.
Shushu is lying on her back where she has fallen, her armload of flowers now spread over her chest.
Her face wear's a smile.
Wait just a minute, Big Brother Kaim. I'll make your wreath for you right away. . .
Her mind is still lingering among her memories of the past.
Will she stay like this to the very end?
Keep fighting Great-Grandmother! Don't let go!
Khasche clings to her hand, tearfully shouting encouragement, but she may not even realize that this is her own great-grandson.
It's me, Great-grandmother, it's me, Khasche! You haven't forgotten me, have you? I bathed you last night, you knew who I was then, didn't you?
Khasche appeals to her with all his might.
But Shushu, a girlish smile on her lips, is departing for that distance world.
I'm going to be a father soon, Great-grandmother! Remember? I told you last night. Cynthia has a baby inside. It's going to make you a Great-great-grandmother! Our Family is going to growanother person with your flesh and blood.
Still smiling, Shushu grasps one of the flowers on her chest in her trembling fingers.
She thrusts it towards Khasche and in a voice no more than a whisper, she says, Don't forget me now, you hear?
Khasche doesn't understand.
Indeed how could her know the little phrase she always used to speak Long before he was born?
Kaim puts his arm around Khasche's shoulder and says Answer her.
I know what you mean Great-grandmother. I won't forget you. I will absolutely never forget you. How could I forget my own Great grandmother?
Don't forget me now, you hear?
I won't forget you, Great-grandmother. Believe me. I'll always remember you.
Don't forget me now, you hear?
Shushu closes her eyes and lays her hand on the flowers on her chest as if groping there for something. She seems to be trying to open the door where the memories are sealed.
A soft breeze moves over her.
The flowers adorning her chest dance in the wind along with the memories. Surely among those memories is the Kaim of eighty years ago.
Kaim snatches at one of the petals dancing in the wind, enclosing it in the palm of his hand.
Shushu will never open her eyes again.
She has left on a journey to a world where there is no past or present.
The only ones she has left behind are Kaim, who will go on living forever, and Khasche, who is about to welcome a new life into the world.
Clinging to her corpse, Khasche raises his tear stained face to look at Kaim.
Thank you so much. He says to Kaim the traveler. Thanks to you, my Great-grandmother was so happy to be picking flowers at the very end.
No. It wasn't thanks to me, Kaim says.
He closes his fist on the petal in his hand and says to Khasche. I'm sure if she had made a wreath, she would have given it to your sweet new baby.
Khasche shyly cocks his head and mutters, I hope you're right. But then smiling through his tears, he declares. I'm sure you are.
About that promise you made to herbe good and don't forget her.
No, of course not.
People go on living as long as they remain in someones memory. With these words, Kaim begins to walk slowly away. Behind him he hears Shushu's voice.
Don't forget me now, you hear?
It is the voice of the little girl from eighty years ago, ringing ever clear, sweet, and innocent, declaring farewell to the man who will travel life forever.
Brother dear!
The cry comes from someone behind as he wades through the post town's crowds. At first Kaim does not realize that the person is addressing him, and he walks on in search of lodging for the night.
But the cry comes again, all but clinging to him, Brother, dear! Big Brother!
This is puzzling.
He last visited the town eighty years ago. There can't be anyone here who knows him.
Wait, Big Brother! Don't go!
His puzzlement begins to take on an eerie edge, for the voice addressing him as Big Brother can only belong to an old woman.
Without letting his guard down, he turns around slowly.
Just as he thoughtit is an old woman.
Dressed in the clothes of a young girl, the tiny old woman is looking straight at Kaim with a bright smile on her face.
I think you may have the wrong person, he says, allowing his discomfort to show.
No I don't, She says with a big shake of the head and an expanding smile. You're Big Brother Kaim!
What?
What's wrong, Kaim, did you forget me?
Uh well I mean
He can't place her. Even if he were to succeed in doing so, he knows he has no acquaintances in this town. He wonders . . . could this be a chance re-encounter with someone he once met on the road? But no, he is sure he doesn't recognize her, and strangest of all, why would this woman who looks old enough to be his grandmother address him as Big Brother?
Don't pretend you don't know who I am Kaim! You're so mean!
She yells at him loudly enough that people in the crowd stop and stare at them.
It is not just the fact that she is shouting, of course, People always have to shout to be heard in these crowded streets. That alone would not attract attention. The old woman's voice is different from a normal adult yell. It is like the innocent, unrestrained cry of a little girl who throws her whole body into her scream.
People turn shocked expressions on the old woman and quickly avert their eyes.
Their dismay is understandable. The old woman has her stark white hair up tied up with a colourful ribbon, and her dress has the same floral pattern and floppy sleeves as a little girl's.
Many of the passerby look at the old woman with a mix of sympathy and pity on their faces.
Gradually, Kaim begins to comprehend the situation. This old woman has simply lived too long. This is why the past, locked away in her memory, has become realer to her then the reality before her eyes.
A middle-aged passerby tugs on Kaim's elbow.
If I were you I would just walk away. Don't get involved with her. She'll be nothing but trouble.
It's true. says the wife by his side, nodding. You're a stranger here, so you don't know, but this old woman is senile. You can ignore her. She'll forget everything in five minutes.
They may be right, but the fact remains is this old woman knows Kaim's name.
In the little girl part of her mind, she thinks of Kaim as her Big Brother.
He tries probing his distant memories.
He spent no more than a few days here so long ago. He got to know very few people, and there can't be any of those left who still remember him.
When Kaim goes on standing before the old woman, the nosy middle age couple becomes indignant. You try to be helpful and what does it get you? snorts the husband.
Let them work it out themselves. adds the wife. Let's just go. Which they proceed to do.
Winding up the voice for maximum shrillness, the old woman calls out to them as they walk off in a huff. Don't forget me now, you hear?
In that instant, Kaim's memory makes the connection.
The old woman greets his look of recognition with an expression of joy.
Do you remember me now? she cries. I'm Shushu. It's meShushu!
He does remember her. A little girl he met in this town eighty years ago.
Perhaps five or six years old at the time, she was a precocious little thing whose lack of shyness with strangers came from her being the daughter of the innkeeper.
Somewhere along the way, she had probably picked up a phrase she heard someone using and so whenever a guest would depart after a number of days at the inn, instead of the standard Goodbye or Thank you she would see the person off with a smile and a cheery Don't forget me now, you hear?
Only now is he suddenly able to see the girl beneath the wrinkles, Kaim must avert his gaze from the old woman's face.
What's wrong Big brother?
He cannot bring himself to look directly at Shushu's vacant stare.
Eighty year have gone by! What can they talk about when a man who never ages meets a little girl from the distant past who has aged too much?
Let me through here, please. Sorry, let me through here, please.
Forcing his way through the crowd, a young man rushes up to where Shushu and Kaim are standing. Great-grandmother! How often do I have to ask you not to go out without telling me?
After scolding the old woman, he turns to Kaim with an apologetic bow
I'm terribly sorry if she's been a bother to you. She's old and getting senile. I hope you can forgive her.
Shushu herself, however, angrily purses her lips and demands to know, What are you talking about? I'm just playing with Big Brother Kaim, What's wrong with that?
She peers at the young man and asks, Who are you?
The young man turns a sad gaze on Kaim and begins to apologize again.
With a pained smile, Kaim stops him.
Kaim knows that, at times, it can be sadder and more heartbreaking for a life to be prolonged than for it to be cut short. Sad and heartbreaking through a life may be, however, no one has the right to trample on it.
She just can't seem to get it through her head she's old. Even if I hold a mirror up to her she asks, Who's that old lady? The young man, whose name is Khasche, further explains the situation to Kaim, she might forget that she ate breakfast, but her memories from childhood can be clear as a bell.
Kaim nods in silent understanding.
Khasche and Kaim sit on a bench in the town plaza, watching Shushu pick flowers.
She is apparently making a floral wreath for her long-lost Big Brother.
But really sir, do you have time for this? Weren't you in a hurry to get somewhere?
No, I'm fine, don't worry.
Thanks very much.
He smiles for the first time and says, I haven't seen her this happy in ages.
The young man seems convinced that his great-grandmother has encountered in Kaim a person who resembles someone she knew as a child. Kaim allows him this. He knows that Khasche cannot, and need not, imagine the existence of a person who never ages.
Her health has really deteriorated lately. Whenever she runs a fever, we wonder if this is going to be the end for her and we prepare for the worst. But then she springs right back. Sometimes we joke that her mind is so far gone, she's forgotten to die.
Kaim sees the young man in profile, Khasche has a gentle smile on his face as he speaks of his great-grandmother. No doubt, when he was little, she used to hold him and play with him. Grown up now, Khasche watches over his Great-grandmother like a parent watching his own child.
He calls out to her, That's nice, Great-Grandmother. I haven't seen you weave flowers together like that for a long time!
Squatting in the grass with a fistful of flowers, Shushu answers, That's not true. I made a wreath for him yesterday!
Then she says to Kaim, isn't that right, Big Brother? You wore it in your hair for me didn't you?
Kaim cups his hands around his mouth and calls back to her, I certainly did, it smelt so nice!
Shushu's face became as mass of joyful wrinkles. Overcome with emotion, Khasche bows his head.
Kaim asks Khasche, are you the one who takes care of her?
Uh-huh. Me and my wife Cynthia.
How about your parents? Or even your grandparents? Are they still living?
Khasche shrugs and says, I'm the only other member of my family left alive.
His grandparents both died in an epidemic twenty years ago.
His father lost his life in the war that enveloped this area ten years ago.
His mother, Shushu's granddaughter, aged more rapidly than her own mother, and the lamp of her life was snuffled out five years ago.
So my great-grandmother has had to keep holding funeral over the years-for her Children and grandchildren, Before we even noticed, she had become the oldest person in town. It must be lonely living that way
I'm sure. answers Kaim.
It might even be a kindness of the gods to let people fade out of mentally when they've lived too long. At least that's how I've come to see it lately. You would think she would feel lonely to be left behind that way, but she's not lonely at all. To live long means you have a lot of memories. Maybe it's not such a bad thing to live in the world of you memories during the last days for your life.
Shushu stands up, her arms filled with flowers.
Big Brother Kaim! I'm going to make a floral wreath for you right now! And if I have any flowers left over, I'll make one for this other person too.
Kaim and Khasche look at each other with bewildered smiles.
Why are you smiling like that? Shushu asks. Are you two friends now?
She opens her wrinkle-ringed eyes wide in surprise and gives the two men a joyful smile, and collapses into the grass.
Khasche starts to run for a doctor but Kaim grabs his arm and holds him back, saying, You'd better stay with her.
Ironically, Kaim, who can never truly know what it feels like to age, has been present, for that very reason, at countless deaths over the years.
His experience tells him that Shushu will not recover this time.
Shushu is lying on her back where she has fallen, her armload of flowers now spread over her chest.
Her face wear's a smile.
Wait just a minute, Big Brother Kaim. I'll make your wreath for you right away. . .
Her mind is still lingering among her memories of the past.
Will she stay like this to the very end?
Keep fighting Great-Grandmother! Don't let go!
Khasche clings to her hand, tearfully shouting encouragement, but she may not even realize that this is her own great-grandson.
It's me, Great-grandmother, it's me, Khasche! You haven't forgotten me, have you? I bathed you last night, you knew who I was then, didn't you?
Khasche appeals to her with all his might.
But Shushu, a girlish smile on her lips, is departing for that distance world.
I'm going to be a father soon, Great-grandmother! Remember? I told you last night. Cynthia has a baby inside. It's going to make you a Great-great-grandmother! Our Family is going to growanother person with your flesh and blood.
Still smiling, Shushu grasps one of the flowers on her chest in her trembling fingers.
She thrusts it towards Khasche and in a voice no more than a whisper, she says, Don't forget me now, you hear?
Khasche doesn't understand.
Indeed how could her know the little phrase she always used to speak Long before he was born?
Kaim puts his arm around Khasche's shoulder and says Answer her.
I know what you mean Great-grandmother. I won't forget you. I will absolutely never forget you. How could I forget my own Great grandmother?
Don't forget me now, you hear?
I won't forget you, Great-grandmother. Believe me. I'll always remember you.
Don't forget me now, you hear?
Shushu closes her eyes and lays her hand on the flowers on her chest as if groping there for something. She seems to be trying to open the door where the memories are sealed.
A soft breeze moves over her.
The flowers adorning her chest dance in the wind along with the memories. Surely among those memories is the Kaim of eighty years ago.
Kaim snatches at one of the petals dancing in the wind, enclosing it in the palm of his hand.
Shushu will never open her eyes again.
She has left on a journey to a world where there is no past or present.
The only ones she has left behind are Kaim, who will go on living forever, and Khasche, who is about to welcome a new life into the world.
Clinging to her corpse, Khasche raises his tear stained face to look at Kaim.
Thank you so much. He says to Kaim the traveler. Thanks to you, my Great-grandmother was so happy to be picking flowers at the very end.
No. It wasn't thanks to me, Kaim says.
He closes his fist on the petal in his hand and says to Khasche. I'm sure if she had made a wreath, she would have given it to your sweet new baby.
Khasche shyly cocks his head and mutters, I hope you're right. But then smiling through his tears, he declares. I'm sure you are.
About that promise you made to herbe good and don't forget her.
No, of course not.
People go on living as long as they remain in someones memory. With these words, Kaim begins to walk slowly away. Behind him he hears Shushu's voice.
Don't forget me now, you hear?
It is the voice of the little girl from eighty years ago, ringing ever clear, sweet, and innocent, declaring farewell to the man who will travel life forever.
Evening Bell
SPOILERS! (Click to view)
Rolling farmland spread out before him, Kaim harvests vegetables, wielding his hoe with deep concentration.
The sky on this autumn evening is a deep crimson.
Maybe we should call it a day, says the heavyset woman who owns the farm. She drops an armload of vegetables into the basket.
Kaim nods and wipes the sweat from his brow.
Youre a tremendous help, says the woman. Look how much weve done!
Kaim responds to her praise with a slight nod.
You still cant remember where you came from? she asks.
Afraid not
Well, the way you work, she says with an easy laugh, I dont care if youre from the moon!
Seriously, Kaim. What will you do when the harvest ends?
I dont know yet, I havent made up my mind.
Theres plenty of work to do here even in the winter, she says, Itd be fine with me if you wanted to stay on a while longer
Thank you, says Kaim.
She herself is a hard worker and a warm human being.
This is not a life that allows for luxuries, but going out to the fields at dawn every day and ending work as the sun goes down softens the heart even as it toughens the body.
As they prepare to leave the field, a small bell begins to ring.
The hour is still somewhat early for the churchs evening bell.
Kaim glances down to the road at the base of the hill. A funeral procession advances slowly along the road, the mourners surrounding a horse cart bearing a coffin.
The woman sets her hoe on the ground, removes her headscarf and clasps her hands together. Kaim scans the hills to find that all the other workers on the surrounding farms are doing the same thing: clasping their hands, bowing their heads, and closing their eyes in the direction of the passing funeral.
Kaim follows their example.
The old man leading the funeral procession swings the little bell.
Its ringing echoes among the hills.
The mourners pass in silence.
The women in black veils,
The men in black coats, heads bowed.
The children in the rear elbow each other playfully, unaware of the meaning of death.
When the funeral has passed, the woman raises her head and blinks her moistoned eyes.
The one who paddes away is going home, she says.
Home? Kaim asks, somewhat startled.
Home to the soil to the sky to the sea. Like all living things.
Kaim nods in silent recognition.
How many deaths has he seen in this endlessly long life of his?
All those people leave this world of ours and we never see them again. In that sense, death is an infinitely sad event.
If, however, we think that in dying they go back to their homes somewhere, a certain comfort and even joy comes to mingle with the sadness.
But Kaim who can never grow old or die can never go home.
The woman scoops up a handful of earth and says with deep feeling, Many lives have become part of this soil the lives of tiny living things we cant see, the lives of withered grass If you think about it that way, our vegetables are made for us by the lives of many others.
I see
Can I ask you a favour, Kaim?
Of course
If I should die while youre working here, would you scatter some of my ashes on this field for me? A handful would do.
Kaim is at a loss for words. He forces a smile.
Husband dead, children on their own, the woman lives by herself on the farm.
Kaim know that if he goes on working here, like it or not, he will eventually have to watch over the womans deathbed, even if she were to die one hundred, two hundred years from now.
The church bell rings, signalling the end of the workday.
The woman clasps her hands before her as she did when the funeral passed.
I have been allowed to come safely through one more day. For this I give my heartfelt thanks. May tomorrow be another healthy day for me
Her voice in prayer resounds forcefully in Kaims breast. This happens every time he hears the churchs evening bell: the conviction overtakes him that he does not belong here.
Maam, he says to the woman after the last chime resounds.
Yes?
Wouldnt you say that people give thanks for each safe day, and pray for good fortune in the day to come, because they know their lives will ende?
Wha- whats wrong, Kaim?
Ill be leaving the village when the harvest is over.
Why, all of a sudden? Whats happened?
I have no right to live here, he says.
Ignoring her stupefaction, Kaim lifts the vegetable basket in both arms.
He takes another good, long look at the setting sun.
Where will you go, Kaim, if you leave here?
I dont know. Somewhere.
Are you just going to keep wandering like this?
I dont have anyplace to go home to, says Kaim.
Hoisting the basket onto his shoulder, he starts down the hill.
His back glows red in the setting sun.
End.
Rolling farmland spread out before him, Kaim harvests vegetables, wielding his hoe with deep concentration.
The sky on this autumn evening is a deep crimson.
Maybe we should call it a day, says the heavyset woman who owns the farm. She drops an armload of vegetables into the basket.
Kaim nods and wipes the sweat from his brow.
Youre a tremendous help, says the woman. Look how much weve done!
Kaim responds to her praise with a slight nod.
You still cant remember where you came from? she asks.
Afraid not
Well, the way you work, she says with an easy laugh, I dont care if youre from the moon!
Seriously, Kaim. What will you do when the harvest ends?
I dont know yet, I havent made up my mind.
Theres plenty of work to do here even in the winter, she says, Itd be fine with me if you wanted to stay on a while longer
Thank you, says Kaim.
She herself is a hard worker and a warm human being.
This is not a life that allows for luxuries, but going out to the fields at dawn every day and ending work as the sun goes down softens the heart even as it toughens the body.
As they prepare to leave the field, a small bell begins to ring.
The hour is still somewhat early for the churchs evening bell.
Kaim glances down to the road at the base of the hill. A funeral procession advances slowly along the road, the mourners surrounding a horse cart bearing a coffin.
The woman sets her hoe on the ground, removes her headscarf and clasps her hands together. Kaim scans the hills to find that all the other workers on the surrounding farms are doing the same thing: clasping their hands, bowing their heads, and closing their eyes in the direction of the passing funeral.
Kaim follows their example.
The old man leading the funeral procession swings the little bell.
Its ringing echoes among the hills.
The mourners pass in silence.
The women in black veils,
The men in black coats, heads bowed.
The children in the rear elbow each other playfully, unaware of the meaning of death.
When the funeral has passed, the woman raises her head and blinks her moistoned eyes.
The one who paddes away is going home, she says.
Home? Kaim asks, somewhat startled.
Home to the soil to the sky to the sea. Like all living things.
Kaim nods in silent recognition.
How many deaths has he seen in this endlessly long life of his?
All those people leave this world of ours and we never see them again. In that sense, death is an infinitely sad event.
If, however, we think that in dying they go back to their homes somewhere, a certain comfort and even joy comes to mingle with the sadness.
But Kaim who can never grow old or die can never go home.
The woman scoops up a handful of earth and says with deep feeling, Many lives have become part of this soil the lives of tiny living things we cant see, the lives of withered grass If you think about it that way, our vegetables are made for us by the lives of many others.
I see
Can I ask you a favour, Kaim?
Of course
If I should die while youre working here, would you scatter some of my ashes on this field for me? A handful would do.
Kaim is at a loss for words. He forces a smile.
Husband dead, children on their own, the woman lives by herself on the farm.
Kaim know that if he goes on working here, like it or not, he will eventually have to watch over the womans deathbed, even if she were to die one hundred, two hundred years from now.
The church bell rings, signalling the end of the workday.
The woman clasps her hands before her as she did when the funeral passed.
I have been allowed to come safely through one more day. For this I give my heartfelt thanks. May tomorrow be another healthy day for me
Her voice in prayer resounds forcefully in Kaims breast. This happens every time he hears the churchs evening bell: the conviction overtakes him that he does not belong here.
Maam, he says to the woman after the last chime resounds.
Yes?
Wouldnt you say that people give thanks for each safe day, and pray for good fortune in the day to come, because they know their lives will ende?
Wha- whats wrong, Kaim?
Ill be leaving the village when the harvest is over.
Why, all of a sudden? Whats happened?
I have no right to live here, he says.
Ignoring her stupefaction, Kaim lifts the vegetable basket in both arms.
He takes another good, long look at the setting sun.
Where will you go, Kaim, if you leave here?
I dont know. Somewhere.
Are you just going to keep wandering like this?
I dont have anyplace to go home to, says Kaim.
Hoisting the basket onto his shoulder, he starts down the hill.
His back glows red in the setting sun.
End.
imspectr:
Those were some really wonderful short stories. I can see why you wanted to share them, babe. 
brightredscream:
Thank you for sharing