A box of possibilities – Cassandra Zoro

Another brilliant piece from a GUNNAS WRITING MASTERCLASS WRITER

The Japanese have a saying that the sands of time run softly for those who shine golden light. This may well be true for the lucky ones, many people in Japan live a long and fruitful life.

In spring, cherry trees bloom and people gather around the flossy flowers. For some, falling cherry blossom symbolises the fleeting nature of life. Like grains of rice being sifted in a sieve, the blooms flourish then drift lazily down to the ground. Later they will wither and die.

One morning Haruko (“spring child”), a local Geisha girl, stood underneath a marvellous billowing tree, admiring the pink cherry blossom. As she stared at the beauty of the tree, a solitary tear trickled down her painted cheek. In the early hours of that morning, her beloved Grandmother Aiko had died.

Surrounded by family and friends, Aiko had rattled her last breath. But not before she had asked Haruko one last favour. We’ll talk about that later…

The sun was still rising over the vivid hue of pink cherry blossoms and towering Tokyo buildings. Jaunty skyscrapers coming in to view, looming out of the night’s shadows. It was eerily quiet – aside from the occasional last breath of a cherry blossom, as a falling flower drifted down to the ground.

Haruko sighed. She could taste life’s bitter discontent on the wind. She did not wish to continue the life she had. Serving men. Contained in the House of Geisha’s. Her wings clipped by the life she had been forced into. Servitude was crushing her soul, slowly sucking the life out of her.

Soon, as the city woke up, she would be expected to return to her daily regime. Cleaning, preparing, perfecting her painted face, dressing up, entertaining, serving guests. Being the “perfect” Geisha girl and living the life she was told to.

“I need a box,” she worried, clutching her Grandmother’s diary beneath her Kimono. Letting out a deep sigh, that just scratched the surface of her troubled mind. Sidestepping a cockroach, she pattered up the path. Back to the dirty alleyways of the city.

A foul-smelling and turgid looking water was coursing down the back-alley. Haruko cursed as she jumped over a rock and mis-judged it. Tottering in her impractical sandals and stubbing her toe as she accidentally splashed down into the murky water. Dark splatters stained her Kimono.

“I need a box,” she muttered as she scampered on. Somewhere, a few streets back, she could hear clattering. The city was arising. She must hurry.

Back at the House of Geisha’s she slipped out of her sandals. Her fingers deftly rubbed at the muddy marks on her Kimono. She cursed. She could not wipe it off.

Oka-san wasn’t awake yet. This was unusual. “I may still have time,” Haruko thought, as she peeked into Oka-san’s room. The Geisha House mother appeared to have passed out on the floor. One too many sakes? A smirk spread across Haruko’s face. And there – just to the right of the snoring lady was an empty box, which looked just the right size. It lay discarded, as if fallen from her hand.

It was a difficult decision. If she accidentally woke the House mother, then she would have failed in her mission to fulfil her Grandmother’s last wish. She lunged for it and grasped the box in her sweaty hand. Backing gingerly out of the room Haruko whistled in relief, dropping her Grandmother’s diary into the box deftly and hastily scribbling the memorised address onto it.

What I had forgotten was string, she mused. To tie the parcel. Without a second thought, she did the unthinkable and pulled the red ribbon from her hair. Instantly breaking the rules of the House of Geisha. Her once neatly piled high hairstyle now ran amok.

Haruko tiptoed down the corridor and tumbled back out into the alleyway. Barefoot and fumbling with the ribbon she tied the box tight. Then ran for her life. The box swinging beside her as she set off. “Good morning everyone” the speaker system sounded out as she ran. The Geisha’s were being woken up. She pelted down the street.

This was it. Freedom. Nervously checking the coins in her pocket. Haruko had just enough to post the hastily packed parcel. She rounded the corner and joined the queue that was already forming at the post office.

Gingerly, Haruko placed the eccentric looking box on the counter. The counter assistant was too absorbed in dealing with the queue of people promptly, to comment on the quirkiness of the box or realise its importance, or notice the haphazard appearance of the Geisha girl. Haruko hesitated for a second before paying the postage. The box was on its way.

Haruko quickly turned on her heel, out of the post office door and made as if to start back towards the Geisha House. In the same instant the sun rose up as if to greet her, dazzling her completely. She turned her face the other way down the street, and in that split second a new world of possibilities opened up. Turning away from the sun, and to a new future, she ran.