Seto (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
buryyourfriends) wrote2018-04-05 12:49 pm
buryyourfriends) wrote2018-04-05 12:49 pm
Entry tags:
Memory Items
Just a list for all the memory items in Fragile Dreams, for future references and event shenanigans that may come up.
Observatory
Subway Station
Underground Shopping Center
Amusement Park
Hotel
Underground Tunnels
Dam
Underground Duct
Laboratory
Tokyo Tower
Observatory
Subway Station
Underground Shopping Center
Amusement Park
Hotel
Underground Tunnels
Dam
Underground Duct
Laboratory
Tokyo Tower
Underground Tunnels
Seven Colored Bells
I looked upon those seven girls no longer breathing. I recalled the world "deathbed." In that bright white alley, they lay there lifeless. I don't think to explore the cause behind it. Death cannot be overturned or reversed. It stays right where it is. It doesn't go anywhere.
The only reason I spilled tears was because of the wretched shape I was in. I had no memory of being loved. Especially not at first glance.
The day they were welcomed into their homes, they were given heirloom bells. It proved that they were loved like family. In all my days, I'd never been given a bell.
And yet here I was, alive, while these girls, who were supposedly loved unconditionally, were dead. It might have been poison. Perhaps even disease. Maybe I, too, would be whisked off by the cold wind of death.
Either way, I was alive.
A part of my heart scoffed, "Serves you right. Just look at the evidence. You ridiculed me, and I survived. You paid the price of cruelty with your lives. Behold! I'm alive."
But no matter how much I yelled, none of them opened their eyes. And my tears didn't stop.
As I picked up one bell after another off the floor, I swore to myself that I wouldn't grieve over them. Not after I'd endured such suffering my whole life. I had the right to mock their life and death. The sound of the bells that were not mine echoed in vain through the air like the tolling bells of a funeral.
Red Bell Anri
From beyond the tiny window, fitted into the side of the tiny house, a raspy cough could be heard. There was tiny bed in the room, where a tiny human child's body lay resting.
"Honey, you know you have to get some sleep."
The scolding came from a tall woman who entered the room. She'd come to put out the lantern as she rubbed the boy's back.
"No." he replied, shaking his head. "I'm not sleeping. Anri might come back home."
"Oh, sweetie..." The mother's face was troubled. It was easy to see she knew something. She knew that the 'Anri' the young boy was waiting for was not coming back.
"Anri's coming back, I know she is! She always comes home. I gave her a red bell. She's my little sister."
Ah! So evidently, Anri was the little boy's sister.
I continued to watch them in silence. Thinking about the boy, I was reminded of Anri, who was even tinier than her poor, sickly brother. Once, she came to visit her big brother. He was so pleased and overcome with love her, that he gave her a red bell. Although I was not there, I could picture the scene already.
"Well, if Anri does come, I'll be sure to wake you."
"I know the sound of Anri's bell better than anyone!"
Anri's bell was small and red, but she was no longer with us. Her red bell was only here because if had been stripped from her dead body.
As I looked up at the moon, I recalled the words 'desecrating the dead.'
What I was about to do was the epitome of spitting in the eyes of the dead. That was exactly what I was doing. I had already abandoned her corpse. And now I was adding another sin to my list.
But this was my revenge. It was the perfect thing to do. This was my revenge on her for calling me mangy. I called to the boy in a delicate voice. I rang the bell, the sign of his little sister that the boy claimed to know so well. The window opened.
"Anri?" The boy called to me.
Yes, it's me. It's me, Anri.
He stretched out his arms to embrace me.
"What happened to you? You're all scruffy," he asked. I looked nothing like the beautiful little girl he knew and sounded nothing like her either. Only the red bell remained the same. My revenge was secure.
I'm Anri. Anri, with her red bell. The youngest little sister embraced by her brother's small arms.
Blue Bell Fleur
"He missed the deadline again."
"And he smacked me just yesterday. Said I left the ashtray full."
"Huh, if he didn't dog us like that, he wouldn't have anything else to do."
"Heh, he said all we do anyways is smoke cigarettes."
"I just don't get him."
"Boy, you said it."
There was the banging sound of a mallet. Word had it this mill was built by the skilled, but eccentric foreman. He'd since taken on two assistants to make furniture around the clock. But the men just idled their days away, breathing out an endless stream of white smoke.
"It must be you-know-what."
"Wouldn't be surprised."
"Ask him."
"You idiot. He'll do more than just box your ears if you do. I wouldn't complain even if he ran me through the sander alive."
"Ugh, you just can't win with him."
"Boy, I'll say."
And with that, they let out white sighs.
"It's seriously been a month since Fleur went missing? Huh, I guess she's not coming back. she probably finally had it with that barbarian. But I'm gonna miss how one look at her kisser and the boss' mood would do a 180."
That was as far as I overheard. Stealthily, I did an about-face and skirted the wall of the mill. From my neck now dangled a blue bell. The symbol of the mill. Today, I had come to be the boss' Fleur.
Approaching the window, a loud voice boomed from inside.
"I told you, it's just not possible! You're not making any sense, you dimwit!"
The sound of the receiver slamming down was coupled with wood being shaved. My ears stood on end and the trembles racked my body. The words 'run through the sander alive' danced in my head. No doubt it'd hurt like mad.
I imagined it, looking down at the blue bell. Does it hurt more than death? Not having experienced either, I didn't know, but dying probably hurt more. At that thought, the trembling stopped. It must've hurt Fleur a lot.
"I can't do this anymore!"
This time, a piece of furniture flew out the window. Things were taking a turn for the worse.
I couldn't control my shivers and the blue bell let out a ring. The boss turned his wrinkled brown face in my direction and scowled. I thought he'd look right through me with his muddy gray eyes. I didn't have the beautiful body of Fleur at all. I was terrified he'd say I wasn't his lovely Fleur and would run me through the sander right then and there.
He suddenly swung his hand high. The palm of his weathered, old hand was blistered. The skin, like bark. I was sure he'd strike me, but instead his hand came up to cup my face.
His rough and powerful hand stroked my head so softly.
"You scrawny little thing." His gruff voice was more like a groan. The way it trembled struck my heart.
Didn't he doubt me? Didn't he see right through me? Should I really let him continue stroking my head like this?
I was speechless as he took me in his arms effortlessly.
"Boys, get in here!" He yelled behind the mill.
"Quit your grumbling and get back to work! If you don't want me to wax your heads, then polish me some new wood! And step on it!"
Despite being yelled at, the two men had twinkles in their eyes.
"The boss' Fleur is back!"
They hollered, hands in the air. Unable to speak, the blue bell spoke for me with a trinkle. At that moment, I had won over her name.
I am Fleur. Fleur, with her blue bell. Petted by a hardheaded boss, I am a furniture maker's beloved daughter.
Worn Date Book
I'm sorry.
I hope you get this, Mom. I wanted to apologize to you for so long. This might not ever reach you, but I'm sorry for what I did. It's all my fault. It was a lie, so please smile and say it's okay. If we survive this, I'll apologize in person, so please forgive me.
I'm going home now, but this is a memo for when the end comes. If someone else sees this, please tell my mom for me if you can. I'm sorry for being selfish about this, but please. I don't want to die. I don't want to die yet.
Radio
Good evening.
Thank you for the many entertaining episodes. I'm truly sad I'll never get to hear your voice again. I loved your show and looked forward to it every week. It always cheered me up. I know you'll never get the chance to read this, but I wanted to send you one last 'thanks.'
From your biggest fan, thank you very much.