~Kai

A Place in my Head

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The whole Earth felt absolutely beautiful during that time of year. Like a spilled pallet of reds, oranges, yellows and browns all of the colors splashed together perfectly, connecting like puzzle pieces on a backdrop of rich powder blue that was lit a majestic purple at the top and glowed a soft orange towards where the sun set over the dusty green hills. It was the kind of magical day that you read about in story books about long lost loves, life-touching animals, and fruit-full childhoods. As I sat, on the western side of a large grassy hill, hugging my denim covered knees to my chest I felt like I was in a Harlequin romance without the pink lace, and thick accents. I enjoyed the nights where I could just sit on the ground, all comfortable without worrying about the bugs in spring, the dampness in summer, or the frostbite in winter, and open up my minds eye to perceive everything around me as beautiful. I just wouldn't tell anyone that I thought of Harlequin romances while admiring sunsets every fall.

We all had gone our separate ways ages ago, or at least it felt like ages. We were like a finely tuned machine that ran out of coals to burn so it all fell apart piece by piece, one by one we each slipped away. I'm still reluctant to say that I was the first to go. Although there's a part of me that would be strangely excited if we became a team again. These were the kinds of things I pondered whenever I had more than a minute. "What if? What if? What if?" New ideas came to my mind without me even noticing and I realized that if I took the time to think about it, I was a very creative individual so I learned to use this newfound virtue to my advantage.

Wooden ships. They were everywhere inside my cabin up the hill that I bought with compensation money from Kritiker and a little bit of my fair share from the old shop. Little ships in a jar, the same craft everybody's grandfather that smelled like pipes and maple wood perfected. They were all my original design too. Everyone of them came from my head. It surprised me of all the time I took to make them seeing as I never considered myself a patient person. I guess it's true, we learn something new everyday. Along with the ships and my lack of anything close to work, I've been able to write down thoughts on paper which led to me turning on the computer once in a while and writing a story or two. I'm not the king of grammar, or drama that is but I get out what's needed to be said and it's enough to make me feel content at the end.

It was a routine now. Every night in autumn I'd sit on the hill and watch the sunset just pondering while wrapped in a warm fleece blanket and then I'd go through the house, stopping in the kitchen to make a nice hot chocolate or tea, depends on my mood, and I'd drink it on the back porch overlooking a small suburban area. It wasn't until one night in late October that my other wise pleasurable life turned into something I could've only dreamt up during a buzz.

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The phone rang with a startling cry that echoed to my ears out on the porch. I groaned a few times, reluctant to get up but when a snappy cold gust of wind bit my cheeks I decided the hot tea just wasn't strong enough to do it's job and headed inside.

I deducted that I had been a little more light-headed than usual tonight considering the abnormal darkness of the cabin. By the time I usually came in it was late dusk but there was still a foggy haze of grayish purple light filtering in through the windows. That's the last time I put some liquid Tylenol in my tea, which I figured would take care of these fleeting headaches I seemed to experience. At least I'd go to bed early and get a good night's rest. Oh the phone, almost forgot.

I wouldn't want to miss the call of anyone that has the guts to call me at nine at night when I'm full of hot nerve jacking tea and stress medicine. I set the glass down, not noticing the little splashes of liquid that escaped over the sides of the mug from my irritable force.

"Hello?" I wondered if my voice sounded as tired to the person on the other side as it did to me.

"Hello, Ken Hidaka?" I rolled my eyes, surpressing the urge to congratulate the person on dialing the phone correctly. I certainly wasn't acting like myself. While waiting for the voice to speak I noticed the tea stains quickly contaminating my new marble counter and bent down to dig in the cabinet for a dish towel. Anxiously searching for cleaning supplies because on two small stains…this was extremely Aya-ish of me.

"Yes?" I said sounding more like a secretary than a property owner. The phone dangled between my hand and ear as I pushed aside various household chemicals and searched with a furrowed brow.

"Hi, Ken." The voice was light and breathy and so familiar. "It's Omi." Omi?

"Omi?" Yet again my brain acted on cue and I straightened up, the cabinet lightly swinging shut with an echoing squeak and slammed throughout the dark empty house. That's when I looked down at the counter, the edges of my half-full tea mug glowing at me beckoningly in the moonlight that filtered through the open porch window. The two dots of tea were gone and there was the checkered white and green dish-towel, folded by someone with a skilled artistic hand into a thick cotton origami crane.

"Yes Omi." I whispered trying to sound as inconspicuous as possible despite the fact that the blood had run out of my neck and face and was collecting in my stomach.

His voice was hollow and soft and the words came out slowly and carefully like he'd been practicing before he called. "Ken, we need to talk."

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TBC...