Past (The Testimony of a Magical Creature)

  Piano Sonata No. 1

  If thou hadst been hanged, like a hanged man from a tree,

  Then thou shouldst have been torn from thy mother's womb.

  If thou hadst not been hanged, like a madman,

  If traversing through time, then thou shouldst time-travel.

  Perhaps thou couldst have become a Shakespearean fool.

  Perhaps thou couldst have become an actress and a princess.

  That is what I said to her: to the girl blessed by the heavenly order. She did not understand what I was saying. She was starving. She was a peasant and an idiot.

  She wanted to play on a stage, to perform, but she did not have all the necessary means. Thereon, she spoke little; she did not possess the strength that is necessary to survive. To survive and have a conversation with others. Meal conversations and lunch conversations.

  This little girl, like an embodiment of a corpse, looked boneless. This was, of course, since she was thin, thinner than a corset.

  The only remarkable thing was her eyes, her eyes glittering and glistening. For she had a whole galaxy in her eyes, and she was watching me. Watching me intensely and closely.

  However, as I had said before, her parents drove her to the abyss of poverty, forgetting that she was a predator herself, as predators often mutilate their creators.

  Piano Sonata Number 2.

  One day, as she was having her only meal that was supposed to replenish her morning and daytime nutrition all at the same time, her father summoned her to his chamber.

  She clutched her stick in her mouth, pretending that it was a popsicle; nevertheless, it hurt, so she could not concentrate on what her father was saying. Her father clasped his hands too, pretending to be her daughter’s favourite person on earth, and made a proclamation. He proclaimed it in such a sweet and adoring manner that for a moment, she forgot that her father did not love her in the way a father is supposed to love his child.

  Thus, his words were such: “Oh, sweet daughter of mine, it is that time of year—that time of year for thee to find a profession. Therefore, I made a decision, a decision that is quite delightful. The day before, a slavemaster visited our cottage, and he was mesmerized by the beauty of thine. He said… He said that he wanted to have thee at his service. That is why from now on, thou art going to serve him. Thou art going to serve him as his slave, and thou art going to become his precious diamond.”

  Upon hearing such DELIGHTFUL news, a little girl did not respond at all. For she was not listening. She was dreaming. She was dreaming of becoming a star and performing on a brilliantly crafted stage. But she, in a way, knew her dream was never going to be realized, so she just settled for herself, not caring.

  Present (Peach Mitani)

  Piano Sonata Number 3.

  It was quite difficult not to care.

  Nevertheless, Peach Mitani has so far managed not to care.

  To all human beings who prayed for her downfall, she wished happiness, because there wasn’t a single human being who would wish her ill. For she was always careful not to stand in the way of a powerful political figure.

  She has always been meticulous in her efforts not to be noticed.

  But now… she found herself at a loss for words—all her efforts had come to nothing. It all went downhill from the moment she chose to take a stroll in the Serenity Garden.

  She tried to calm down. She took a deep breath and tried to analyze the whole situation.

  It was midnight, and the air had a few dust particles floating, and she thought that she was relentless in her pursuit of not caring. She tried not to care, and then she was in trouble. Therefore, she took the trouble to dig to the bottom of her soul, and in there, she was chasing something. She was chasing shadows.

  Her shadows wanted to poison her.

  Her shadows wanted to chain her and squander her, and somehow she understood that her one shadow had her heart.

  Her one shadow wanted to squander her heart because Peach Mitani knew a secret of hers: the tenth noble consort Turakine’s secret. So to save herself, she decided to put poison in her mushroom soup.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  There was a mess, though, and the poison that was supposed to be put in her mushroom soup had been put into the mushroom soup of another girl: Maoline.

  Past (The Testimony of a Magical Creature)

  Piano Sonata Number 4.

  Tonight, as the moon was high in the sky, she was still labouring, chopping the wood, and even though it was her last day at home, her last day at home earning chipped coins for her father, she, strangely enough, was very much exhausted. She was exhausted both emotionally and physically—her psychosis was shaken, and she was thrown out of the loop.

  She was chopping those damned woods for three hours, but it was all the same: it was not enough, so she chopped and chopped. She chopped the wood. She chopped the wood for the stove. But the stove was burning, and there was a sort of dreaminess in her unconsciousness.

  She dreamed that the stove was hot, and she dreamed that she chopped her finger.

  Chopping, chopping for a chop.

  But then she woke up. She looked at her finger.

  Her finger was lying on the ground. It was lying as if it did not belong to her. Somehow, she could not relate to the girl who had been cutting the wood.

  She realized then that she was going mad. She looked at her finger, which was lying on the fresh soil—she realized that she was going mad. She looked at her finger, which was lying on the fresh soil—it smelled of rain.

  She ate it. She bit her finger.

  Honestly, she did not want to eat her finger; she wanted to eat the fresh soil. She has always wondered what it is like to eat the fresh soil.

  She craved eating the oxygen in the fresh soil, for she was hungry. She was deprived and hungry.

  Three meals a day. That was all. That was the only thing she asked for. Because if your parents love you a tiny bit, they give you food, right? However, even such a little thing seemed to be out of reach for her.

  Moreover, everything else seemed to be out of reach for her. So she scratched her head, and then she mumbled, as if she were in a delirium, ‘I don’t want to become a slave. I was not a perfect girl, but still, that does not mean that my parents have any right to own me. I am not that innocent, and I know that the slave master is going to do vile things to me, and he will probably beat me up. Of course, I have always been beaten, and of course, this is nothing new, but I know that the slave master is going to beat me up senseless, not in a traditional way, but in a way that he is going to beat me up, as if he were owning me. He is going to have all the rights to do whatever he wants with me.’

  The little girl licked her tender flesh and resumed: ‘It may sound pathetic, but it may have been better if I had not been born. What is the point of being born if you are just starving?’

  They were starving her.

  She understood that her parents were disgusting. She remembered that time when her father showed his private parts to her. She remembered that time when her mother became a living corpse. One morning, she woke up and found out that the upper part of her body was immobilized. She was furious, of course. So she heard the sound of fury.

  She heard the sound and fury.

  She was a living corpse who did not have legs, which is why she lay on her bed all day long.

  For an immobile corpse, though, she sure shouted a lot. She was demanding something from her. Something that she could not give her.

  Her mother then spoke those strange words to her. She could not understand any of it. Therefore, seeing her not understanding, her mother cried a lot.

  Her crying words contained spice. Her crying words contained venom.

  However, she was done now. She was done now, consuming that venom.

  It was getting cold, but she could not finish her work. In fact, trees were growing and throwing their branches in her face, as if trees were throwing their hands at her face.

  It was a living nightmare.

  It was a living nightmare because it was getting dark out there, but she was still chopping.

  She looked at her hands, and then she realized; she realized that there was something wrong with her. There was something wrong with her, which is why she continued her chopping. Because that was the only thing that she could do.

  Piano Sonata Number 5.

  Present (Peach Mitani)

  The only thing that Peach Mitani could do now was to unfold a portrait of herself. She looked at the silver frame of her portrait and was secretly relieved.

  The background screen was green. There was a green forest, and there were mountains.

  It was a present given to her. By her secret admirer, who has been chosen as one of the successors, and he has chosen her as his supporter.

  He was one of the chosen successors to become the heir to the throne, and it was strange that he, so mighty and strong, had chosen her as his maiden, the maiden of the shrine.

  She was not an ethereal being. She was just an ordinary girl. She could not fly, and she could not read the minds of others. She was just an ordinary girl.

  There was a time, though, when she was not an ordinary girl. She had her parents, and they were poor, and they were furious. They were furious that they were powerless. They had their needs; they were in constant need to relinquish their anger within, so they harassed her; they beat her, but she was comfortable—she was comfortable in her misery until her father decided to send her to the slavemaster. She remembers how, from thenceforth, she was chopping….

  Did she stop chopping and murder them, or did she?

  But that is not what is important. The past has little meaning if you can time-travel; hence, it would be best for her to concentrate on the present time. That is to say, in the present time, she has two murderers going after her and wanting to murder her.

  She thought, ‘Is there anything she can do about them, rather than escape from a palace? She has no friends, and she has no family members left. Hence, even if she escaped, the guild of assassins of Turakine would find her. It would be like running from a huntsman in the long run, so that means that there is only one thing left to do for her: accept the offer from the prince Guyugu., known as the brightest of them all.’

  ‘He came to her himself in the evening.’

  She was resigned to her lonely fate, and she was meditating when a sudden knock was heard by her. She stood up, and the edge of her dress was creaking. She heard the creaking sound; the creaking sound smelled like freshly washed-up cotton wool.

  Suddenly, she wanted to lick the popsicle. She wanted to lick the flavour of snow.

  The door was open.

  The door was open.

  The door was open.

  She was confused and couldn't remember whether she had closed the sheet behind the closet.

  Her maid Dori was still serving her, so she probably had closed the door behind the closet. The maid Dori was a clever woman. She was a girl of fifteen, but she was already a woman. Before entering the palace, she was wed twice and was widowed twice, too.

  ‘He sat on her bed and softly touched the feathers of her pillow, and then he caressed her cheek with his thumbs.’

  “Why are you here?” she asked.

  “I am here to make an offer,” he whispered. His whisper had a divine energy. He was of noble blood, after all.

  “I don’t understand,” she mumbled.

  “You don’t need to understand,” he said. He was looking at her eyes, but he was looking right through her soul.

  “Do you want something from me?” she said. For he wanted something from her, and she certainly wanted to give it to him.

  “I want your body and soul to belong to me. I want you to fight by my side.” He gave his answer, and then he made a present: a golden apple hidden amidst the silver frame of her portrait.

  That was the day after she had taken a stroll in the Serenity Garden.

  Her king had recently died, so she thought that now she was free and that she would not take an offer from a stranger.

  But now that her life was in danger, she must surely become a shrine maiden; after all, she had been a shrine maiden before.