Paradise

Mr.Malayaya.

I.

Mr. Malayayaya died — without thinking too much — he died on the first thought. He had never died before, and he wasn’t quite sure yet whether he had liked it. Most people when they died, they took some time to get used to death. Some of them didn’t take enough time and hated death too soon. Some of them did, and they waited until the ends of their funerals, — just to be safe –, before they could gather enough confidence to take a peep at the new world, after life.

The world after life, it had been rumoured by the living, had the answers to what life is. It had grapes and strawberries and high flames for those who rejected the gardens of grapes and strawberries. But Mr. Malayayaya wasn’t interested in all those nor was he interested in finding the answers to what life is. Mr. Malayayaya died for a special reason : he died on the first thought — not on the second after — because he stole a heart the colour of hope, and he was the only one who had ever seen the colour of hope, and he liked to keep it that way.

His friend, Ms. Jaguya, had heard the sound of hope and recorded it on a reel-to-reel tape deck, well accidently.

Ms. Jaguya died of an auto accident. A common death for a Nabiskan. But it was an unusual death for Mr. Malayayaya. He died without thinking too much.

“Is it time to wake up?”