The Light That Became A Star

by A.N. Pinckard

The old monk of the temple warned us not to go to the meadow, but Haru and I, we could not help ourselves. The strawberries were so ripe, like jewels, and we were so hungry. Other children had vanished there, but we were willing to take the risk.

It was the fifth year of the clan war and the seventh year of the drought. The dry, cracked rice paddies, the dusty taste of millet, and the ever-present gnawing in our bellies defined our existence.

That spring, Haru and I rose early each morning to fetch water from the Yubari river before the heat became unbearable. We’d haul it back to the rows of millet, dump it on the ground, and watch it disappear into the cracks. Year after year, the customary summer and fall rains had not come, and the earth’s thirst was insatiable.

The cloud dragon was sickened by the war, the old monk said. The thunder god was insulted by the poor offerings. The mountain gods were angry and withheld the rain. Every few days he had a different explanation. What were we to believe? We knew only our hunger. (Continue Reading…)