Ehhh Sam always did say I should write in one of these. Plus this journal was a fair price at the market. I like that it's russet leather.
Russet. Sam the day you told me what the name of that color was, I must admit, it haunts me. You say your hair is a strange shade of auburn, but one day I know you'll admit that it's the same color I saw in the snow. My mother's blood was the same color as your hair. I remember it clearly.
I was only three, but this is the only memory I have of her. She was in the kitchen feeding me when I saw her face change. From smiles to winces. She went outside and sat in the snow. Having been on the floor, naturally, I followed her. The sky was grey as it usually is in Chishiro. Like all our people, the severe cold did nothing to harm her. If anything, it must have helped the pain. She pulled a knife from her sleeve, rolled up both her sleeves, and slowly she sliced her skin.
Only later did this make sense. Father told me that being bled helped her release the toxins that pained her. Her cuts were on top of her arm and in her palms. Her blood, though, wasn't the right color. I have killed many men and I have yet to see blood that color. Brown, rusty-red. The snow around her was stained by it.
My mother cried while she cut herself, though, looking back, it must not have been because of the wounds. My father described her disease as excruciatingly painful on her organs. Her heart, stomach, lungs, and intestines. I must have read every book on the Soul's Fever to understand the pain she suffered every day.
When she realized that I had been watching her, she sang a lover's ballad to the dead.
"Good-bye my love,
see you around,
for I am dying,
and I won't be coming back.
Good-bye my love,
see you around,
for I am dying,
so please forgive me.
Good-bye my love,
see you around,
for I am dying,
and I won't be coming back.
Please understand,
your life is more important than mine
I had to save
I had to save you
I had to save you
Good-bye my love,
see you around,
for I am dying,
so please forgive me."
As she sang she turned her arms around and sliced her wrists. She looked at me and smiled. I remember I then sat next to her. She sang the song over and over. She would hold my hand or lay her hand on top of my head. Once the night came she had fallen asleep, or so I had thought as a child. My father, once he came home from hunting, knew that she was dead.
I remember he washed my stained hair. Like the snow, it too was stained by her blood.
I know you will never read this Sam, but your hair is the exact same color. I suppose as a little child it was why I was so drawn to you. But maybe not. I really didn't consciously notice the similarity until the year you were force to leave the North Village.
Anyhow, your suggestion of writing in this thing is what prompted me to buy it. Sorry it's ten years late. I hope, as queen of Krasoata, that you're living a full life. Mine was ok until I started teaching these kids. Now I understand why all the Masters say it's rewarding. These kids are something else. I wish you could meet them.
Err, time for bed I suppose. Damn this random mission. I swear the leadership in this village is stupid to think kids, straight from the preparatory school, should be thrown into missions of this caliber. I'm not looking forward to this.
Russet. Sam the day you told me what the name of that color was, I must admit, it haunts me. You say your hair is a strange shade of auburn, but one day I know you'll admit that it's the same color I saw in the snow. My mother's blood was the same color as your hair. I remember it clearly.
I was only three, but this is the only memory I have of her. She was in the kitchen feeding me when I saw her face change. From smiles to winces. She went outside and sat in the snow. Having been on the floor, naturally, I followed her. The sky was grey as it usually is in Chishiro. Like all our people, the severe cold did nothing to harm her. If anything, it must have helped the pain. She pulled a knife from her sleeve, rolled up both her sleeves, and slowly she sliced her skin.
Only later did this make sense. Father told me that being bled helped her release the toxins that pained her. Her cuts were on top of her arm and in her palms. Her blood, though, wasn't the right color. I have killed many men and I have yet to see blood that color. Brown, rusty-red. The snow around her was stained by it.
My mother cried while she cut herself, though, looking back, it must not have been because of the wounds. My father described her disease as excruciatingly painful on her organs. Her heart, stomach, lungs, and intestines. I must have read every book on the Soul's Fever to understand the pain she suffered every day.
When she realized that I had been watching her, she sang a lover's ballad to the dead.
"Good-bye my love,
see you around,
for I am dying,
and I won't be coming back.
Good-bye my love,
see you around,
for I am dying,
so please forgive me.
Good-bye my love,
see you around,
for I am dying,
and I won't be coming back.
Please understand,
your life is more important than mine
I had to save
I had to save you
I had to save you
Good-bye my love,
see you around,
for I am dying,
so please forgive me."
As she sang she turned her arms around and sliced her wrists. She looked at me and smiled. I remember I then sat next to her. She sang the song over and over. She would hold my hand or lay her hand on top of my head. Once the night came she had fallen asleep, or so I had thought as a child. My father, once he came home from hunting, knew that she was dead.
I remember he washed my stained hair. Like the snow, it too was stained by her blood.
I know you will never read this Sam, but your hair is the exact same color. I suppose as a little child it was why I was so drawn to you. But maybe not. I really didn't consciously notice the similarity until the year you were force to leave the North Village.
Anyhow, your suggestion of writing in this thing is what prompted me to buy it. Sorry it's ten years late. I hope, as queen of Krasoata, that you're living a full life. Mine was ok until I started teaching these kids. Now I understand why all the Masters say it's rewarding. These kids are something else. I wish you could meet them.
Err, time for bed I suppose. Damn this random mission. I swear the leadership in this village is stupid to think kids, straight from the preparatory school, should be thrown into missions of this caliber. I'm not looking forward to this.
