Strange Light Afar by Rui Umezawa Read Free Book Online Page A

ground but simply break it open where it sits nestled in the dirt.
    The mind is a powerful thing when confused. I actually for a moment see the glimmer of gold, but it immediately changes into a living, crawling darkness. The centipedes and roaches and worms and spiders crawl over each other, seeking shelter from the sudden daylight. The smell of feces twists my stomach.
    The dog looks at me smugly, as if amused by this obscene, sick joke. Anger swallows confusion. The emotion is a living, breathing thing that erupts from my soul like a blisteringly hot geyser.
    Shiro ignores me when I tell it to sit. The dog is sorely in need of a lesson, so I provide it by swinging my spade across its pointy ears and skull. The sound of metal hitting bone is strangely satisfying. The dog yelps and stumbles backwards.
    But it still does not come when I beckon. Why won’t it come? I think again of my father. Anger becomes easy, like an old friend. I shout something that I will not remember later and swing the spade again.
    The more I hit the dog, the less it seems willing to do what it’s told. I hit harder, over and over. And the rage becomes a pure, beautiful thing, like a pillar of blue flame. It burns on, engulfing everything before me.
    After an eternity, I notice Shiro lying still on the ground. Its fur no longer resembles snow.
    It’s nightfall before my brother comes looking for his dog. I am spent and strangely content. Still, I’m relieved by Jirobe’s appearance because I was unsure what to do with the carcass.
    He can hardly keep from falling backwards when he sees the mangled, bloody heap that used to be Shiro. Shock turns into despair, then to anger and disgust. He seems to want to say something, but I’m holding the spade, dirt and blood on my hands and clothes. I may not appear quite as calm as I feel.
    He carries the dog back to his house without a word.
    In the morning, I see Jirobe and Sakura burying Shiro in the same hole where they found the treasure. To mark the grave, they plant a sapling so thin it looks ready to break if the wind blows the wrong way.
    By the following day it is twice as thick and tall. Two days after that, it’s a fully grown fig tree that overshadows the garden.
    But I am shocked on the third day to see Jirobe taking an ax to the tree. We have not spoken since I was forced to kill his impertinent dog. I am still feeling awkward, but not enough to keep my mouth shut. He turns to me angrily when I ask what he is doing. In the end, though, he is too excited not to tell me.
    â€œIt’s uncanny,” he says. “Last night, I had a dream that Shiro came back to life and dug himself out of the grave. He stood over us as we lay in our futon, his fur covered with dirt and caked blood. In the dream, he could speak. His voice resembled a faraway thunderstorm.
    â€œHe said to us, ‘My dear father and mother, before I leave you forever, I should give you one more glad tiding. Because of your deep love for each other, your garden is overflowing with bright ki that centers on the tree you planted over my grave. If you cut the tree and from it carve a mortar in which to beat rice into mochi , the luminous energy shall bring you more riches.’”
    Jirobe goes on to explain how he was shocked to learn his wife had had the same dream. They both decided it would be best to do as the dog said. So I look on, perplexed, as my brother chops down the fig tree.
    I go over later in the day with some dried fish just as Sakura is steaming glutinous rice for pounding. Her smile fades when she sees me. She pales, as if she is treading on thin ice on a frozen lake. I move my mouth to say something, but guilt is like a plum seed caught in my throat.
    The silence lifts only when Jirobe enters, eager to show off his handiwork. He has carved the thick trunk of the fig tree into a mortar big enough to bathe an infant and constructed a large mallet with what remained of the wood.
    When