Micro-fiction 074 – Cherry Blossom (Echoes series)

In the far future on Titan, Saturn’s resource-rich moon, comes a tale of a family feud, a cherry orchard, and the death of a father…

Cherry Blossom

The breeze flutters at the petals on the cherry blossom

In a distant future in 3030 of the Common Era, on Titan, the most inhabited of all Saturn’s moons, Arturo sits within the Cherry orchard nurtured by his sister Mariposa, admiring the resilience of the Earth-born seeds that had travelled with their ancestors to this lonely colony in Space. The siblings had been instructed to read separately, but simultaneously the secret letters left for them by their father who had died after a long life of angry and bitter family feuds. He had placed hand-written missives in the old style, mimicking the letters of the middle period earth families, the study of which had become an obsession for those who felt abandoned in the outer reaches of the solar system, distant in time and memory from the planet that benefited from the vast natural resources mined and shipped from Titan, back to the home planet.

Arturo sits on the wooden bench, the vast orange eye of Saturn peering down through the evening skies, with sunlight suffusing through the silicon domes to the heavenly canopy of cherry blossom. He knows his sister is close by, out of sight, but connected by the confusion of anxiety and grief they both feel as they lift small, carved wooden boxes to their laps, then fumble for the old-fashioned key to open the lid. Arturo gazes at the contents, a simple folded sheet of paper with a seal, the family crest impressed upon its red wax. He hesitates for a moment, tempted to close and bury the box, or tear at the letter and burn it. His father was a hateful man consumed by suspicion and imagined slights, fuelled by a desire to outlive and out-perform his offspring, he had done nothing but deride and taunt his progeny, even in front of their own children. And the years had not softened his resentments against age and infirmity.

Delicate pinks and whites shiver with the murmurs of life.

Arturo calmed himself and lifted the letter from its long imprisonment. He felt an immediate sympathy, imagining that he too had been released by the death of his father. He unfolded, gripped the edges of the letter with both hands and read.

“Dear Arturo, my son and heir,

If you read this then you will have outlasted me. You will imagine my disappointment. I write at a point in my life when I know that an end is in sight, that for all the hard work and dedication all will come to an end, that what I know to be mine, must be passed on to others. It will come as no great surprise to you to know that I abhor the very notion of surrendering control to anyone, let alone someone who does not deserve the benefit.

You will be surprised to know that I have reconciled myself to the battle against time, that perhaps I might even acknowledge some truth in your own views about the passing and survival of the human soul. Where before I clung to my belief in the here and now, that the present must be endured for it is everything and nothing, that striving will make the best of us better, and the worst of us revealed as unworthy of life at all, now I yearn to carry my efforts with me, like a Pharaoh, surrounded by my worldly goods, my awards, my workers, animals, my family, into the afterlife where I should continue as I left off, benefiting from the riches of the mines here on Titan.

But you will know that Titan is a cruel mistress. The mines, the lakes, the vast stores of hydrocarbons upon which my work, my wealth is founded, exist for all to plunder unless my interests, those of the family as a whole are protected. In spite of what you might think there was a time when I thought kindly of you. The disappointments of your later years after your mother died and the many arguments between us should be put aside: the mining operation is so large, and your sister’s distractions with the orchard so mesmerising for the workers I must leave it to you to uphold hold my interests, our interests.”

Setting loose a fragrance that whispers of new fantasies

Arturo lay the letter down, still holding it with his tense fingers. Curiously the words were more emollient than he had expected, his father’s usual excoriating tone suppressed beneath the surface, like his beloved mines. Imagining, and hoping that his sister too must be surprised Arturo read on.

“I am told that you have proved yourself to be more than capable on the work you have done for others. Of course I have spies in all the mines of Titan, secret shares in most of them, and they have reported back regularly that you work diligently which is as much as I could ask for. I am told that you are fair and treat others with dignity and respect, but although I have never had time for such things, I am told also these have been effective in your work.

Now, as we come to the end of this letter, I hope you have read for long enough for my intentions to bear fruit. Perhaps now you find your fingers are stiff, your hands and arms ache. You might find too that you have a headache from reading this in the sun, in, I suppose your sainted sister’s cherry orchard? If you have read this far you will be unable to remove your hands from the letter, and my sweet words, sweet enough for me at least, will have done their wicked work and I will have dragged you and your sister after me. The paper is poisoned, the ink is poisoned, I have beguiled you with what you have always hoped to hear, that I have relented, mellowed. And if you have any wits about you, you will have known it.

If you still believe in the separation of your spirit from your body, I will see you in Hell, and we shall renew our dread acquaintance.

Sincerely yours, in victory on you both.

Your father.”

Arturo looks up, my eyes confused by the bright sunlight filtering through the cherry blossom, his hot forehead tantalised by the breezes. From behind the trees his sister Mariposa appears, distressed, blurred, waving her hands. He sees that she’s wearing her gardening gloves. His vision slips away as he forces a half-smile towards her. His letter falls and his eyes rest forever.

The petals sigh, shed their tethers, and drift into the skies.

[End]

Part of a new series of micro-fiction stories, released as These Fantastic Worlds SF & Fantasy Fiction Podcast on iTunes, Apple Podcasts, Google Play, Spotify, and Stitcher, Vurbl and more. Also on this blog, These Fantastic Worlds.