In the dictionary we found mist (霧), that in duplicate would give us a nest of crickets (きりぎりす). Those are the two words at the heart of this little tale.
A small child is looking for crickets in the forest because he got lost and the mist doesn’t let him find the way back home. He tried singing, but his voice didn’t even put a dent in the mist. He tried clapping, because he knows that crickets don’t sing with their voice, they sing with their wings, but that also failed to clear the mist. His only hope is to find a fistful of crickets before nightfall. He has to convince them to sing and cut the mist to pieces.
Poor child, it seems you are using a blunt knife. You keep missing those high notes. The mist is getting thicker, but you are losing your voice. I wish I could help. Don’t be deceived by my face, the wish is really there. What’s missing are the stars. Better luck on the 25th?
I know you are a child of this day and age, but you are outdoors right now. Can’t you tell the difference? This isn’t your home, clapping won’t turn off the mist. Here, what you say doesn’t go. But do try, please. Let’s see if you have what it takes to work your fingers to the bone.
Are you looking for a cricket? In this mist? To each their own, I guess. I would hate to disrupt the quiet. It’s not space, I know, but I don’t shine and I won’t get many more chances to feel like a star in this life.
Haven’t you ever heard the words live and let live? You were lost, yes, but the mist would have lifted long before you starved to death. You aren’t even under curfew. Did you really have to enlist the help of those crickets?
Night isn’t my cloak of choice, I prefer mist. If I were to sharpen my blades at night, sparks would fly and the stars would betray my position in a heartbeat. Mist is more trustworthy, it knows that secrets are meant to be taken to the grave. It’s the only place where crickets like me can chirp to our hearts’ content.
I am not a master of disguise. Truth be told, mist does all the work. I know I have no grounds for complaint, but it would sure be nice to have something of my very own. Something I could be proud of. Chirping is what birds do. Admit it, nobody conjures up crickets like me when they hear that word. But it’s the one that we have been given, and I am starting to resent being invisible.
I am lost. Look at these stars. My compass is broken, and I want to throw them away. They are useless, but I still cling to them. Homesickness is pointless. Stars should lead to the future, not to the past, yet here I am. A lame-legged cricket that will never take the leap. I hate this song. I keep trying to rewind time, but each failure only turns up the volume of my tears a little bit more.
Do I look like I am in need of a conscience? I live under cover of darkness, I am invisible. Untouchable. No one can shame me. Not starlight. Not moonlight. And certainly not the likes of you.
That star was in the way. I may be stuck in a compass, but I don’t have blind faith. I would rather watch my step. Call me greedy, but I want to hoard all the praises and I am willing to take the blame if that is what it takes.
I’m not lost. What I am is free. Reference points are overrated. There’s a reason I left home and I have never looked for the North Star. I won’t be tied down.
Any other name might work for a rose, but no matter how I look at it, that’s a star. Maybe if most of the petals hadn’t fallen off, I would give my eyes a talking-to. But I read somewhere that roses only have 5 petals in the wild, and I won’t waste my breath defending a defective product. Stars, on the other hand, can have as many points as they want. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. See? My star has 8 points, and there’s no need to make up an extra cardinal point just to please some flower that has been manufactured to please me, anyway.
There’s no pull. I am a broken compass, my heartstrings hang loose. Indifferent. Detached. Adrift. That’s how I feel. As though all the little stars had fallen off my brain and my lighter had forgotten how to spark. But, as the saying goes, this too shall pass. I will eventually be washed ashore and have my pick of quartz.