"My existence was as unstable as a stream, changing in every way ; but the moth was like a piece of stone , changing not at all."

- Arthur Golden, Memoirs of a geisha

moth.

.

___

....

Kanya's pov:

As a young child I could remember hearing strange things going around town. They weren't important, but I had a keen ear for the townspeople talk. We were a small community with big gossip, everyone was either a fisherman or a crook. But, it didn't matter if you were on the sea isolated and cold , and trying to provide for your family or abusing and killing people for goods that you needed so badly..everyone heard everything, it was mandatory. Funny thing is there was never anything much to it but tales. At least, that's what most believed.

Our sole town was located in the country side of Siam right by the water. We were bound to be immunized by flesh, to the smell of fish and death, for that is all are small town consisted of. Stench. The town kept this unforgettable blue grey sickling filtered that shadowed above us all, there was never any sunlight. No stars in the night to count instead of sheep, no clouds to keep the rain company as it poured on us. You could make a pool in a day, with how much rain that showered on us daily. We were miserable. Mæ̀ used to tell me, that it was God trying to wash us away, for we had sinned nauseatingly.

When she told me that I didn't eat for 3 days.

I would just sit on the roof of our bamboo hut day and night, counting the roosters that passed by, they were so skinny and wilted. I wanted to give them my body eagerly, for them to take and eat for it was my body. All I could remember is all of us taking from them ordinarily and never returning. But, deep down even with the regret I had, I did not care. As I sat on that bamboo hut religiously, counting the wilted roosters, I would find my eyes stretching towards the sea. That dark, dark sea. Sometimes when I looked hard enough, I could see a head pop up once or twice...that was only if I was lucky or if the rain cried hard enough that day. When I would tell my sisters about what I saw in those waters, they would send me a look of pity and disbelief. Their ugly faces traumatized me, but that didn't stop me from blabbing about that dark sea and that head that would surface from beneath the waves bewitchingly.

Oh yes, I would also tell Pa and Mæ̀ for they were my soulmates. My best friends, my parents that I love so dearly.

"Ah, was it a boy or a girl?".

" Was it bald?".

"It was ugly wasn't it ?".

" What color was it?".

"Oh, aunt Lamai would love to hear about this?"

"I've drunk too much, tell me later, okay Kanya?"

My parents were funny fools. They often would come to me to hear about stories, dreams, stars, light. Their eyes would limelight like 1,000 fireflies in a graveyard. Such curious, querying souls. "Shhh..can you guys let me talk", I chuckled at their questions. No matter how old they were getting, they were filled with immense child's play. Oh, how they were strange, so strange. I would often stare and admire their selfless love for each other, how it was strong and undefinable. Chomesri, my sister, would sit with me and watch their love plays. We were mesmerized. And, as their love plays extended and got more to soap opera. The rest of my siblings would crowd around me and Chomesri to watch the show. We would watch immensely on how our Mæ̀, would paint our Pa face like an open canvas, and how he would do the same to her. They sat lap in lap, arm in arm, face in face, breathes in breathes, warmth in warmth, and hearts in hearts...drawing, crafting, each other's phizog. They were art itself.

I memorized the way Mæ̀ would slope her face, and grabbed onto Pa's face. Guiding the emotions of the others and her paint brush. I would applaud when she did that position, for it was my favorite one and the one I would do on the road frequently. Pa never really guided Mæ̀ when they would draw onto one another, instead he would just admire her beauty silently, swaying his head to the rhythms of her paintbrush. Buppha, the childish sibling, would take that moment as a moment to dance whenever she would see Pa sway.

" Sit down", Dao spoke pinching Buppha.

Buppha never listened, instead she followed the movements of Pa's head, and danced. This moment was the funniest, seeing Dao so angry and unamused, then watching my other siblings amused while joining Buppha into the dance circle. I laughed, and laughed. Then after much laughter I joined my siblings into the dance circle, grabbing Dao along with me after stealing cold glances from her, but what she didn't know is that I also noticed that smile. We danced for what felt like for life. Danced around our Mæ̀ and Pa, danced around their love play, danced around their art. I blew whistles, Phueng sang like a ghoul, Buppha made drums with her feet, Mali threw jasmine flowers into the air, Chomesri hummed, Pen-Chan clapped her palms, and Dao danced like never before. We were an orchestra. All the turning and swaying stained my head with pain, and stained my lips with a smile. I was happy. Even though the town wasn't , nor the sky, nor the fish, nor the dead. I did not care as long as I was and my family. Happy.

On rainy days like this one was unforgettable. I sat on the bamboo hut, watched the roosters, watched the sea, watched Mæ̀ and Pa, danced. Smiled. This day was full but not complete.

-

Aunt Lamai was having a festive at her food court that rainy day. She deserved to have one , she was the most well known in the town, mainly because of her savory food. Lord knows how many trials she went through to get to where she was, I didn't really want to know, but I wouldn't mind listening. I always listened. Aunt Lamai was a beauty, a beauty that was not describable, for it would take all day to script what she was. There was just one thing I could never forget about her and I didn't want to..her nails. They were always so long and white like pearls. I remember being much younger and playing with them like a toy, I wanted her to know how much I valued them, I valued them more than her beauty, for me I saw them as her beauty.

This festive was the biggest in town, the fishermens, common's people and crooks were coming in from every perimeter to see her and her food. For me and my family we just really missed her, and wanted to support her. I remember that night glancing through Dao's room door and seeing her bathe herself in rags that she designed to polish. She looked so fair, her tan skin graced her looks and cleaned her body. Her short hair sat perfectly on her round face, and big eyes. My siblings would joke about her colossal eyes calling her a frog, but I believed that was her most beauteous feature. Man, Dao was beautiful the most beautiful out of all of us. Stuck in a haze, Dao quickly saw me admiring her and aggravatingly shut the door, the cold air that hit my face felt like the ocean at night. How, I loved the feeling.

"Where is Dao?", Mali asked.

"She's changing." , I answered.

I was fluttered by the sudden engagement.

"God, that girl! She's obsessed with herself", Mali scoffed.

No. She wasn't. Not even a little bit, I would say the opposite.

"Kids!", Mæ̀ voice closed the conversation.

I ran towards Mæ̀ holding onto her arm closely, inhaling her scent of fresh lime. She was dressed head to toe in red, the woman in red. Pa entered the room ravishing in pineapple yellow clothes, it complemented his aura wholly. My other siblings were wearing combinations of red and orange. I wore white, it was my favorite color. I stood in the room caged to Mæ̀ with a feeling of comfort and wonder for what was to come that rainy night in Siam.

As we approached Aunt Lamai's court, we were blinded with color beamed lights, lanterns that flickered into the dark sky like stars that we never saw. Flowers in colors of the rainbow glossing the rained road, kids running around hitting each other. Town folks gathered together like chickens in a flock, gossiping and eating. Fishermen stinking the atmosphere with fish on their backs and in their mouths, crooks stealing from other courts close by, Prostitutes whipping their skirts in the faces of hungry men, left right, left right, right left, they never missed a beat and the men never missed a touch. The more we walked closer and closer the more attractions we saw and the more the leg of our pants and skirts sank and soaked. It was a festive of delirious uncanny stories bottled in the rain. For my family, we stuck together like glue, like a milky swan guiding her children in a swamp of yeast. Even Dao that was a book of attitudes and anger never let go.

As we approached Aunt Lamai, we overflowed her with kisses and hugs that almost cleared the sky. In that moment hurled in Aunt Lamai stomach I looked to the sky, pleaded with it, to at least try to smile..just this once. I pleaded until the hug was complete, I needed the sky to see how happy we could actually be. Buppha poked my face, " you're staring into space again, what happened?", she asked calmly. I didn't want to say anything, simply because I had no energy to do so, I just shrugged and faintly smiled. I hoped she would leave me alone, but instead she embraced me with her arms walking me away from the crowd that scattered in my vision like catastrophic blurs. I wanted to stand in the spot I was before, there I felt connected with the sky. But, leaving that space wasn't so bad either, Buppha led me to a small barrel by the cold sea, sitting us both down. And with no noise at all, Buppha scooted towards me with a sudden moment of her head leaning towards my shoulder. Buppha was tired, and sick I could hear her slow and burning heart. She was always a sick child that hid her sickness with play, she never wanted to give herself a break and she never did.

"I'm tired".

" I know, it's okay."

And, like that Buppha closed her eyes.

The festive gradually got louder and louder as time spanned on. The night was so young it couldn't sleep. I bought my focus back to the wind and the sea, forgetting the festive and Buppha. I wanted to mediate, learn the wind, learn myself. So I focused on my breathes one by one, and the wind that danced in front of my eyes. And, for a spilt second the entire world went silent...

That silent second I watched simultaneously as a moth flew into my view, landing on my nose perfectly. Just sitting there enjoying my view.

The waves went mute, so did the crowd that was scattered in a blur behind me. I didn't care to know why, I just knew that something was right.

And, that's where I went wrong. There was nothing that was right about this moment. Nothing at all.

And, In the distance there was a scream. And a road of hot blood dancing with moths.

I opened my mouth wildly, and just like that the moth entered.