A group of teenagers are gifted abilities that relate to their childhood.
Horosha has the ability to revive animals using clay. However, such powers don't come without a cost: Another animal's life has to be sacrificed.
She shares her ability with...
The umbrella started crying, and tears filled with the sky's soul were dangling from the tips of its rib. The rainy season was about to take over, for spring was dying. Another cycle in the endless life struggle was about to begin. I wonder why is it that, in this time of the year, I always remember a distant memory , a fleeting dream triggered with the earthy scent of petrichor. A dream that makes my heart ache...
From the days of my childhood, I loved clay. The spoiled girl whom I was would probably consider it "The best thing in the world! ".Soon after I comeback from school, I would run to the garden. There, Bearing the long steady gaze of flowers, my fingers kiss the clay. My father, after the long and exhausting hours of hard work, seemed to enjoy seeing me play. His quiet smile filled my heart, as he watched over me. Sometimes, he complimented me and gave me sweets.
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When he wasn't watching me play or busy with housework, my father used to sit on his bed and watch the bird clay model that my mother made a long time ago. Shinisugi, my father, has always claimed that this bird flew once. We always joked about it during the dinner. "Finish your bread before the bird comes and takes it away from you" he would warn me. My mother would laugh quietly at my confused face. Those were the times before my mother left us for some reason. Sometimes, during the night, I can still see her back getting farther and farther away from us. My father was all I had.
"Clay is the best thing in the world isn't, Horosha?" Said my dad while cleaning the tatami room. My response resounded in the garden "Yes!". Someday during the rainy season, I found a cat's head lying in the garden. At first, tears ran along my cheeks. Along sadness, I was overcome with disgust. Yet, somehow, I felt the need to attach it to clay model. It was an irrational decision that a voice inside my head shouted incessantly. Covering my nose with my soft hands, I took it away with two fingers and attached to a clay cat model made beforehand. Somehow, it seemed beautiful to me. The head, slightly tilting, was hanging on top of the blood drenched clay.
I ran to my father and before he could utter a word, holding the model in my hands I said thoughtfully "living things are really beautiful". Suddenly a "Nyan" echoed in the room. The model has turned into a living cat. I stood there dumbfounded as the cat jumped from my hands and landed on my father's lap. Grossed by its purring, his reaction was to throw it against the wall.
Red traces of shame were drawn on the wall and life ceased to exist for a second. My father was enraged for some reason. He went out and started digging a grave somewhere in the nearby forest. Soaking wet, I gave him the black bag. While I gazed upon the grey clouds, I listened to the shovel's sounds. Once we returned home, he clumsily cleaned the sticking blood and took me by his side. He was overcome with sadness "Please, Horosha, listen to me! Forget that this has ever happened. Can you stop playing with clay? please! I'm begging you" I nodded and held his blood stained hands. That night, the cat had died for the second time.
