The cherry tree with blood-red blossoms

On outoa, että olen alkanut kirjoittaa mieluummin englanniksi kuin suomeksi, varsinkin novelleja. Se tuntuu oudolta. Mutta on asioita, jotka kuulostavat paljon paremmilta englanniksi kuin suomeksi. Ja pidän tällä hetkellä klassisesta musiikista todella paljon. Se vain on niin kaunista ja siinä on sekin hyvä puoli että voi keskittyä paremmin johonkin muuhun, jos haluaa tehdä jotain muuta samalla, kun ei tarvitse (aina) laulaa mukana.
 Valokuuvaaminen on jäänyt vähän vähemmälle, koska olen kirjoittanut ja piirtänyt enemmän. Vaikka haluaisi tehdä kaikkea, ei niitä kuitenkaan samaan aikaan voi tehdä. Soittaminen ja laulaminen jäävät usein vähemmälle, kun on inspiraatio kirjoittaa tai piirtää. Soitan ja laulan silloin enemmän, kun on inspiraatiota valokuvata. En tiedä, onko niissä oikeasti jokin yhteys, tuntuisi olevan...

"I don't need another umbrella  I'm already wet from head to toe

There's no need to wear a sweater  I'm way too deep in the cold"

(Sunrise Avenue, Stormy End)

 It's odd that currently I like writing especially short-stories in English rather than in Finnish. It feels strange. But then there's words and things that sound better in English than in Finnish. Currently I like classic music very much. It's just so beautiful and it's easier to do something else while listening to classic music (than for example, rock) because I don't (always) have to sing along.
 I haven't took any photos in a few days. I have written and drawn more. Although I would want to do everything I can't do all things at the same time. I usually don't sing and play music so much when I am inspired to write or to draw. When I have the inspiration to take photos I sing and play viola and piano more. I don't really know if those things have a real connection, seems like to be for me...

The cherry tree with blood-red blossoms

They say terrible things can happen under a cherry tree with blood-red blossoms. I believed it when I heard it the first time but on the thirty second time I didn't believe in it anymore. I was told so many ghost stories with blood-red cherry blossoms in them that I stopped believing in that.

My mother had a enormous cherry tree garden but she said she had never seen a cherry tree with blood-red blossoms. Only exceptions were those few trees that wouldn't blossom. There were few of them in the garden but nobody knew why they wouldn't blossom.

It was months after I had heard the latest version of the blood-red cherry blossom ghost and forgot it when I actually saw a cherry tree which had strange buds. It looked so strange to me that I went to have a closer look. All the other cherry trees were in full bloom. I realized that this tree was one of the trees that wouldn't blossom. I didn't tell mother what I had seen because I wanted it to be a surprise for her that one of those strange trees would blossom.

Next night I went out in the cherry tree garden. It was almost full moon so I saw pretty clearly. Still I had to seek for the tree I had found that had buds. I sought for a long time and I finally found it. I had thought that it would be a tree that grew only at it's own pace. It didn't yet have blossoms but I was overjoyed when I found out that it would probably have blossoms on the next day. Then I didn't have time to see that the buds were ominously dark red.

In the following day I practically forgot the whole cherry tree and maybe that's why I didn't listen at all when few annoying girls on my class began to talk about cherry trees with blood-red blossoms.

From school I went directly to the cherry tree which I had remembered when I saw the garden. It didn't have blossoms but I somehow knew it would be in full bloom very soon. I settled myself at the foot of the tree and begun to read. I also ate there and finally fell asleep.

I woke up in the middle of the night. It was full moon and the moon hung above the cherry tree garden. All trees were in full bloom, also the tree at which foot I had settled. Frantically I got up to look more closely at the blossoms. I wasn't afraid, only a bit surprised when I saw that the blossoms were blood-red. It wasn't like they were only blood-red, it was like all the blossoms were covered in blood.

I got pretty scared when I heard footsteps from behind me. I hadn't really just yet woken up and I had discovered that the blossoms were actually covered in blood. “Have you came to rescue me?” a girl's voice behind me asked. I feared to turn around so I didn't. “Who are you?” I asked. The conversation had gone exactly the way it went in all those ghost stories I had heard. “I am the spirit of this cherry tree”, the girl's voice told me. “Have you come to rescue me?”

I was terribly afraid by then. “I haven't ever rescued anyone,” I said. “So I fear I can't rescue you.”

“But why?” the little girl sounded disappointed. I noticed that I couldn't move my legs. It was as if they had grown roots and I was stuck to the ground. “Why can't you rescue me?”

I tried to scream but I couldn't make any sound. “What's wrong?” the girl's voice asked, mocking. I heard her steps coming closer.

After that I can only vaguely remember what happened. I remember only bits and pieces of the moments after that. I can remember seeing the girl. She looked like to be my age. Almost everything in her was blood-red. Her hair, her lips, her eyes, her fingernails, her clothes. Only her skin wasn't blood-red. It was stained with blood, especially her hands. She asked me something, maybe the same question. I don't remember what I told her but I could speak again and I cried while I spoke. “I don't deserve to get to rescue somebody like you,” I remember telling her. “You are too beautiful to be rescued by somebody like me. Aren't you happy like this? I don't even think I can rescue you. I'm a girl, after all. Shouldn't you want to be rescued by some pretty-faced boy? Almost every girl I've met has that kind of dreams. Why in the world do you even want to be rescued?”

I don't remember if she ever answered. I remember feeling overjoyed that I could move again. I remember moonlight. Her eyes, beautiful, so beautiful eyes. Even her eyelashes were blood-red. I remember her hands in my back, her soft body pressed against mine. Blood-red cherry blossoms. A kiss. Then nothing.

I was told that a stranger girl had found me in the morning under that tree and brought me to my mother. I was told that I laid in the hospital in coma for seventy-six days. But still the very next night when I got home I went to the cherry tree which had had blood-red blossoms. She was there, sitting on the foot of the tree. I smiled when I saw her. She smiled to me, raised up and we ran into each other's arms.

As is the case with many weird stories – they don't very often come true.

Yritin tehdä tuosta kauhutarinan, mutten halunnut tappaa päähenkilöä. Siksi tuli onnellinen loppu. En tiedä, osaanko oikein kirjoittaa kauhutarinoita, mutta itseäni ainakin pelotti, kun kirjoitin tuota joskus puoli yhdeltätoista illalla. En saanut sitä silloin valmiiksi, ehkä koska en halunnut lopettaa sitä siihen, että päähenkilö kuolee taas kerran, olen kai kirjoittanut liikaa sellaisia novelleja...

 I tried to write a ghost story but I didn't want to kill the main character. That's why the happy happy ending. I don't know if I can write ghost stories but I was scared when I wrote that at half past ten in the evening. I didn't finish it, then, maybe because I didn't want to end it to that the main character dies. In my opinion I have written enough of that kind of short-stories...