Tama

Interlude

  The rainy season has yet to begun, yet the air felt moist on her skin. Humid, but oddly chilling. She let her body float across the hallway. Some dust are flying about, glittering as they bathe in late summer sun. Past chatters and gigglings echo about, gradually fading into static and back into clear laughters. It was like listening to an old radio tuning in into a station left on autoplay, regurgigating songs from tens of years before, back when the body and mind are still so young.

  Obake stared up, hands on her stomach. Everything went out of sight ages ago, but she felt no need to bother refocusing. After all, everything she wants to take in cannot be seen.

  The smell of wood, dust, brand new and old uniforms passing by so slowly. The faint warmth enveloping freezing spheres that burst as they touch her skin. Then, her skin sizzles quietly, just like drops of water on a frying pan on fire. They sizzle, sputter, and then burns even hotter than before.

  It does not pain, and yet it stings.

  She has been chasing (more accurately hovering ever so slowly) after an indistinct, sweet fragrance drowned in the sea of rotting timber and vines. The scent that arouses nostalgia within her. A warmth that felt truer than the sun.

  The off-white ceiling, adorned with countless holes, came into focus. Beams of sunlight pierce through, falling onto Obake.

  From somewhere far, far, far away, a bird is chirping ignorantly. And from somewhere even further, a laugh rings out loud. A laugh that is genuinely happy, and satisfied with everything the world offered.

  Sizzle.

  Short, numerous bolts stabbed Obake's head. Her whole body stiffened, relaxed, stiffened again repeatedly lightning fast. Screaming or the feel of warm blood trickling down would have offered a small relief, but Obake was not blessed with such a capability.

  Her body beats into transparency and desaturated colours. Along with the endless pricking, both are stuck in a loop. Obake continue to stream down the hall, helplessly.

  That is, until at least what felt like a whole century passed by, and the waves came to a halt. Gravity bore down on her body, and she crashes down to the ground.

  Thankfully, her sense of pain has finally disappeared again.

  Obake put her hands down and pushed as much as she could, only to lose strength and collapse down again. She took a short, deep breath and rose again within a second. With all the strength she had left, she crept to a part of the wall that survived as a chunk and rested her back against it.

  The humming of a bird that she heard ages ago are now circling around her. Energetic and sparky, looping endlessly. The laughters and giggling echoes clearer and louder now. They are no longer static; so palpable she can feel them pounding on her chest.

  It does not pain, and yet it throbs.

  As another cycle of agony begun to come into the foreground, layer by layer, Obake felt her eyes melting and her cheeks hot. Yet she knew her face is as pale as ever, and the tears that trickle down are as cold as ice.

  Another, the most distinct layer of pain are gently laid upon her. The torment of knowing that the pain she feels will never really hurt, but still experiencing what aches deeper than that a million times more.

  "Please," she choked. "Please put a real end to me this time."