2:22 AM
My first alarm of the day drives me out of my sleep. My body is jello trembling like it’s never held the weight of my soul any more. My stomach wobbles too, but it stills when it recognizes that it needs food before rumbling a demand for it at me.
I walk on bone soft legs to the kitchen in the corner of my studio. I already planned to eat tamago kake gohan for my first meal of the day. Before I went to sleep, I set the rice cooker with a timer, and it’s already steaming away as I open the fridge. When I grab the egg from the fridge, the beep of the rice’s cook coming to an end breaks through the silence of the house. I rapidly grab the soy sauce, and kimchi jar and close the fridge.
I move over to the counter and place the bottle and jar down. I hit the warmer button on the cooker, and pop open the lid. My mouth floods with water at the delicious carby smell of the steam wafting off the rice. I grab my favorite bowl from the cabinet. The feeling of the cool ceramic under my fingers excited me to swallow my drool. I add some rice wine to the rice before fluffing it up with the spatula hanging behind the cooker.
I am almost in tears at the beauty of the grain as I fill up my bowl. I pile my rice high, and make a small divot at the top. I pick up the egg and crack it into the impression. The orange yolk shines like a little sun just waiting to greet the day. It’s refreshing, as we rarely get to see the suns anymore.
It has been three years since I last saw more than the occasional streak of sunshine through the smog that covered the town. I look out my kitchen window watching as the thick clouds roll passed as if they had somewhere to be. The smoke billowed writhing against itself searching for any air left to be consumed. The magic that animated the clouds flashes occasionally casting the little corner of the kitchen in a sickly purple. I found it quite beautiful despite the truth that one whiff of the magical curse would have you collapsing suffocated. I am glad for the spell of protection that had been placed around the apartment building.
I asked a licensed witch to strengthen the one on my own apartment just to be extra sure that it was secure. The statedom had sent a government witch, but there had been a lot of rumors about them doing more shoddy enchantments in the recent years. I don’t wanna take any chances. I watch too many people submit to the curse out this window in the past three years. Many of these deaths were young adventurers who had answered our mayor’s mission request.
The spell is a difficult and complex blood magic from what I understand, connected to Virgo Stelleti, the son of the owner of Stelleti Steel. The steel factory was the heart of the village until it blew up. It was a mess. The factory held most of the village’s jobs, and many of the villagers died along with Virgo’s father. I hear the explosion was caused by a broken refactor, but there is also the rumor the Stelleti Steel was not up to code. The mixture of grief, truth, and rumor resulted in the village as a whole suing the now defunct factory. This bankrupted the Stelleti family, which drove Virgo’s mother to suicide. It was her blood that was rumoured to have set forth the curse.
After finishing eating, my mind was so full I barely focused on my food. I always seem to be enraptured by the smog and it always drives me to my music. A surge of energy courses through me and I reach for my phone, fingers tapping against the screen as I navigate to the video recording app. Positioning the device on a nearby tripod, I adjust the angle until it captures the kitchen counter and the window beyond. I set up a small front light and use the smog’s glow as a diffusion. I grab my Aslatos and position myself on the counter With a deep breath, I hit the record button, the red light blinking to life as the camera begins to capture my surroundings.
"Hey, everyone," I begin, my voice wavering slightly with nerves. "It's me, Enji, I know it's been a while since I last posted, but I wanted to share something special with you today."
I hold the string that connects the two gourds between my index and middle finger, wrapping it around my hand with both balls pressed together in my palm. I take a deep breath and click the balls together. I shake them in a rhythm that reminds me of the way my heart used to race when I played in the park as a child. I add in clicks that remind me of the occasional chirp of the crickets that used to keep us company in the afternoon. As the rhythm builds through the room, I feel a sense of peace wash over me, the weight of the world momentarily lifted from my shoulders. For a brief moment, it's just me and the music. I was a solitary figure alone in the smog, but as I shoot and flip flop I am playing leapfrog with my older brother before the explosion. I feel my feet swing as they want to dance across the kitchen floor. I let out a laughter of joy and flip flop the balls one more time before clicking them twice in an ending.
I lower the aslatos, and see myself smiling in the forgotten camera. I am startled at the genuine expression of joy on my face but I take in a deep breath releasing my nerves, "Thank you for listening," I say to the camera, my voice tinged with gratitude. "I hope this brought a little light into your day, as it did mine."
With a final wave, I end the recording, the red light fading as the screen goes dark. I barely pay attention and quickly edit the footage. I feel nervous when I hear my playing so I just caption the video and clip some of the end and hit the big red post button.
5:55 AM
I don’t remember falling back to sleep but I awoke to my phone buzzing shaking the bed like an earthquake. I reach out groggily, squinting at the bright screen of my phone. Notifications flood in, a barrage of updates and messages clamoring for attention. Among them, one catches my eye: a comment notification on the video I posted earlier. With a mixture of excitement and trepidation, I tap on it.
"Enji, your playing is mesmerizing! I could listen to it all day. Thank you for sharing your talent with us! 🎶"
A smile tugs at the corners of my lips, warmth spreading through me at the unexpected praise. It's moments like these that remind me why I keep sharing my music, despite the challenges of this cursed world. I quickly type out a reply, expressing my gratitude to the commenter, before moving on to the next notification.
Another message catches my attention, this time from a friend who lives on the other side of the village. They said that they were glad to see me posting again. They had been worried about me because I had just dropped off from the face of the earth . I quickly type back letting them know that I had just been taking some me time. Though, everyday here was a day filled with me time.
As I continue scrolling through my notifications, I catch sight of a news update: rumours that the Hixian government would be mobilizing to do something about the smog. They seemed to be speculating about how that would occur. The comments said a bomb barrage. But, they wouldn’t do that would they?
But before I can delve deeper into the story, another notification pops up— Septembersteel commented: keep up the good work. :). I liked the comment and replied I’d do my best. I really appreciated septembersteel as a follower. Even after such a long hiatus they always commented on my posts and often came to the livestreams when I used to do them.
With a sense of determination, I set my phone aside and begin to prepare for the day ahead. But even as I go about my morning routine, my thoughts keep drifting back to the mysteries lurking just beyond the smog-covered horizon. It seems like trouble is never far away in this cursed village, but maybe, just maybe, there's also hope waiting to be found.
I wish we could clear the smog. The thought really surprised me. I used to think like that all the time. I used to spend every day contemplating what it would take to clear the air. I tried to push the thought from my mind but the familiar weight of my Aslatos in my hands beckons to me. I glance at the clock on my phone and realize I still have a bit of time before meeting my friend for our call. With a grin, I decide to seize the moment and make another video.
I set up my phone once again, adjusting the angle until it captures the cozy corner of my living room where I usually practice. The soft purple glow of the fog light filters in through the window, casting a warm glow over the room. Taking a deep breath to steady my nerves, I hit the record button and begin to play.
This time, I let the feeling of the air being cleared to guide me. My hands shake the aslatos as I see the purple fog in my mind. They feel heavy and so I shake them hard, releasing the bottom balls and flip flopping them to click on the top balls and back down. I felt my heart stutter at the sound, and with a deep breath I felt the outside world fading away until it's just me and the music.
I don’t feel my hands any longer, but I know they are moving. Instead, I see the purple fog more clearly and I want to scream at it to go away. In my mind I stomp and yell and let it know how I feel. How angry I am that it has locked me away from the world. How hurt I am that Virgo did this. We all lost people at the steel factory. I grieved my brother, my isolation, and begged for the fog to lift. I imagined the sun, and the warmth on my face. Laying in the park with my friends.
As the final notes hang in the air, I open my eyes to find myself once again smiling at the camera. My face is wet from tears that I don’t remember shedding. There's a sense of peace in my heart, a feeling of connection that transcends words. With a sense of contentment, I end the recording and quickly edit the footage, adding a caption expressing my gratitude to my followers for their support and hope for a better clearer tomorrow.
With a sense of satisfaction, I hit the post button, sending the video out into the digital world. It's a small gesture, perhaps, but one that carries a message of hope and resilience. In a world shrouded in darkness, music has the power to bring light and joy, even if only for a fleeting moment.
After posting the video, I grab my laptop and sit on the couch. I grab my blanket and open my laptop. After a few seconds, my friends adorable face popped up onto the screen,
"Hey, Enji!" Fakir greet me, waving at me grinning from ear to ear. "I saw your video this morning, it was amazing!"
I can't help but grin at the compliment, a warm feeling spreading through me at the thought of sharing my music with others.
"Thanks," I reply, waving back. "I'm glad you liked it."
“Yes! It made me feel like I was playing the park with my little sister! It was so nostalgic” he laughs
We spend the next hour catching up , sharing stories and laughter as we . Despite the challenges we face living in this cursed village, moments like these remind me of the strength of our community, the bonds that hold us together even in the darkest of times.
As we are wrapping up a chat about the old days, my friend mentions the rumors of strange occurrences near the outskirts of town. My curiosity is piqued once again, and I find myself eager to learn more.
"I heard there have been sightings of Hixian Soldiers lurking in the edges of town," they say, their voice hushed as if afraid to speak too loudly. "Some say they're scouting out the damage radius of a large overhead attack."
I nod, my mind already racing with possibilities, “oof, I really hope not. What about us?”
“I heard some people are going to try and leave before it happens,” Fakir said, his face twisted with worry.
We turn the conversation to Fakir’s newest painting and soon part ways. With a sense of determination, I bid farewell to my friend and make my way back to my bed. My thoughts are consumed by the mysteries that lie just beyond the smog-covered horizon.
11:11 AM
I awake to the sun streaming in through the window, its golden rays painting the room in a warm, inviting glow. Blinking against the brightness, I sit up slowly, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. It takes a moment for my surroundings to register—a world without the suffocating shroud of smog that has blanketed our village for as long as I can remember.
For the first time in three years, I can see clearly, the air crisp and clean, unobscured by the thick haze that has become a constant presence in our lives. It's a sight so unexpected, so utterly miraculous, that for a moment, I can only sit there, stunned into silence.
Slowly, a sense of wonder begins to dawn within me, a feeling of awe at the beauty of the world revealed before my eyes. Outside my window, I can see the village bustling with life, the streets alive with activity as people go about their daily routines. It's a sight I haven't witnessed in years, and yet, it feels strangely familiar, as if I've been waiting for this moment my entire life.
With a sense of excitement coursing through me, I quickly get dressed and head outside, eager to explore this newfound world. As I step onto the street, I'm greeted by a chorus of birdsong, the melody filling the air with a symphony of sound. It's a stark contrast to the silence that has enveloped our village for so long, and yet, it feels like a natural extension of the world around me.
I wander through the streets, marveling at the sights and sounds that surround me. Everywhere I look, there are signs of life returning to our village—children playing in the park, flowers blooming in the gardens, laughter echoing through the air. It's a scene straight out of a dream, and yet, it's happening right here, right now, in our own backyard.
As I make my way through the village, I can't help but feel a sense of hope stirring within me, a belief that maybe, just maybe, we can overcome the darkness that has plagued us for so long. With each step I take, I feel a renewed sense of purpose, a determination to do whatever it takes to protect this newfound beauty, to ensure that it never fades away again.
And as I reach the outskirts of town, my gaze falls upon the horizon, where the smog once loomed like a dark shadow over our lives. But now, it's gone, replaced by clear blue skies and endless possibilities stretching out before me.
In that moment, I realize that the curse that once bound us no longer holds sway over our village. We are free to forge our own path, to create a future filled with light and hope. I turn on my heel and run back to the center of the village pulling my aslatos from my pockets.
With a smile on my face and a relief in my heart, I raise my Aslatos to the sky and play, the music ringing out like a clarion call, a symbol of the resilience and strength of our village. My neighbors are coming out of their houses and circling around me. And they were moving and dancing.
And as the notes fade away, carried on the gentle breeze, I know that no matter what challenges may come our way, we will face them together, united in our determination to build a brighter tomorrow.
News headline: Virgo Stelleti arrested after clearing three years of smog.