Cuttlefish -> RE: Small Ship, Big War (3/24/2008 1:26:58 AM)
|
December 3, 1943 Location: Kwajalein Course: None Attached to: Disbanded in port Mission: None System Damage: 1 Float Damage: 0 Fires: 0 Fuel: 475 Orders: Await further orders --- Taiki, Shiro, and Riku are on a small island south of Roi Namur. Except for a few palm trees and some brush the island is empty. Taiki and Riku sit on the sand near the small boat that brought them there, talking, while Shiro wanders along the water’s edge poking at pieces of driftwood with a stick. “I had a strange dream last night,” Taiki says. Riku looks at him. “My grandmother always used to say that dreams are often warnings sent by our ancestors to protect us,” he says. “Of course, she was killed when an oxcart full of onions overturned on her, so I don’t know how good those warnings are.” “What a terrible thing!” exclaims Taiki. “She smelled strongly of onions right up until she was cremated,” Riku says. “It is the only funeral I have ever seen where everybody cried. Anyway, tell me about your dream.” “I dreamed I was with Sayumi,” Taiki says. “We had a little girl with us, who was our daughter. We were each holding one of her hands and walking through a large public garden. It was very happy at first, but then we came to the gate. When we emerged from the garden we were in a city, but the city had burned. There were a few blackened stone buildings still standing, but all around us was ashes and waste. “Our daughter cried out in fear and I picked her up to comfort her. When I turned to Sayumi to say something she was all burned too. She tried to say something to me, but only flames came out of her mouth. That was when I woke up.” “What a horrible dream!” exclaims Riku. “Grandmother may not have been entirely wrong, my friend. If you do get married I think you should not keep your wife in a city, especially not Tokyo. Move her to the country someplace.” He pauses. “I am glad that – well, you know who – does not live on the mainland. She is bound to remain safe on Okinawa.” Their conversation is cut short by Shiro, who calls and waves to the other two from the water’s edge a ways down the beach. The other two get up and walk down the gentle slope to him. “Look!” he says. “What a pretty shell!” He holds up a white shell with a dome of gold splashed with large white spots. “Oh, and I also found that.” He points downward with his stick to where a human skull grins up at them from the sand. Riku skips back with a hiss. Taiki kneels and carefully digs it free from the wet sand, some of which clings to the gleaming white bone as he lifts it up and examines it. “Probably a native,” he says, turning it around in his hands. “Probably,” agrees Shiro. “But it could be Japanese, or American, or anyone at all. Maybe a German missionary or a Chinese trader. With the flesh gone you can’t really tell.” “I wonder how he died?” says Taiki. “Or she, I suppose.” “He probably stayed on this little island until he died of boredom,” says Riku, staying back. “Come on, let’s go back to Namur and get a drink.” Taiki carefully replaces the skull and the three men head towards the boat, Shiro still carrying the shell. Behind them the skull grins up at the sky until the incoming tide once again buries it in the sand. --- [image]local://upfiles/23804/28061175062440E1BA3F82451CFC73EC.jpg[/image]
|
|
|
|