By Anastasia Perkovic
Morana had never intended to return to her hometown. As a child, she often yearned to escape the constraints of the unchanging town she had long been confined to. Her dreams had once burst with wanderlust—stories of vibrant cities and distant lands had forever been an escape from the suffocating place. She wanted her travels to last for an eternity; even so, they had only ever amounted to a single flight.
Her departure for that flight had been abrupt. Nothing more than a scribbled note left on a single white chrysanthemum—an impulsive and fleeting farewell to her heartbroken but understanding mother. However now, after that single flight but many years, Morana returned to the town that had long since faded into a memory.
As she wandered through the cobblestone streets she found herself reminiscing of the life and childhood she had fought so hard to escape. The tree in the centre of town, the stores that lined every street, and even the handpainted signs remained seemingly unchanged. It looked as though time was collapsing on itself as Morana felt she could not be more different from the little girl who had walked those same streets. Her pace wavered as she glanced at the “open” sign illuminating the front of the local bakery. She gazed at the freshly baked treats on display. They were the same as she remembered. The same assortment of golden breads, swirling chocolates and pink berry tarts that she had viewed as a child. Now, she longed to open the bakery door, to finally taste just one of the treats that had long occupied her thoughts. However, she just smiled, remembering how she once begged her mother to take her inside. She watched for a moment as the people in the store went about their lives. They were so full of life and joy, each with their own dreams. They were just like Morana had once been.
Ignoring her desire, she strolled onwards through the town, eventually reaching the elder tree that stood in the very centre. It had stood in this very same spot for hundreds of years. It was there for her as a lively child and here it was for her now. Her eyes circled the branches swaying gently in the autumn breeze. Scattered amongst the leaves hid hundreds of small, ripe berries. She smiled softly, thinking of when her schoolmates would race to gather the tiny fruits, carrying baskets of them to the nearby school. She thought of these times with fondness and regret, wishing that she had just once had the courage to pick some berries for herself. Ignoring such wishes, she took one last glance at the berries before drifting over to the schoolyard, following the same cobblestone path she had walked upon all those years ago.
The sounds of joyful children soon occupied the silence, flooding her mind with memories of past friendships and games. Peering through the corridors she was met with the photos of graduating classes. Each face, gazing down at her, with a unique story and corresponding birth date. She stopped when she saw it. Her own face, smiling back at her with her own dates displayed beneath it. She stood silently for a moment, recalling the emotions of that smiling face. All her dreams, all her pain, seemingly waiting for her to return.
Unable to bear the thought of the dreams she once had, Morana drifted from the photo, continuing her journey onwards through the town. As she neared the edge she caught sight of the old church. Nearby, she spotted a familiar sight; an old bookstore. It stood alone, as it always had, with its wooden exterior aged by the hands of time. It appeared almost as a memory, confining the history of the town and Morana’s childhood within its severed walls. The bookstore was one of the places she remembered as clear as day. It had been her favourite place, an escape. She remembered fondly the days she would rush to the quaint shop after school just to chat with the owner. He was an elderly man, who Morana once believed had lived thousands of lives. He told her tales of his travels, all around the world. A stark contrast to the small town where he now resided. As a child, Morana wondered why he would ever choose such a town. She realised now that his dreams had been fulfilled, that he was glad to settle down and enjoy the peaceful nature of the town with his wife, despite how sick she may have been. Tears swelled as she gazed at the hand painted sign above the door. The sign that had always been welcoming. The sign that had always been open. The sign that now read: “forever closed”.
Overcome with feelings of sorrow, Morana headed for the nearby church. Just like much of the town, the church too was aged but seemingly the same. The wooden doors still stood, their intricate design calling to Morana. Feeling another's presence, slowly, she entered inside. There, on the red upholstery of the familiar wooden pews sat an elderly man and his wife. She sat near them and for a second there was nothing but silence, nothing but peace. Before long, the elderly couple turned to face Morana. She smiled at the familiar faces. They smiled back. Nothing was said in that brief moment. She didn't really want to leave but that smile told a thousand words. Carefully, Morana stood up, knowing she must continue on her journey.
Finally, she found herself heading towards the very end of the very last street. In the distance, she could see the familiar home of her childhood awaiting her arrival. The house stood as a time capsule. The copper-toned brick walls, the wraparound porch, the white picket fence and even the gnomes displayed in the garden all remained intact. However now, they seemed different, quieter or perhaps more distant. She made her way closer to the house when she caught her first glimpse of her mother after all those years.
She was tending to the front garden. All her attention, all her thoughts remained purely on that garden. Morana watched her, observing her appearance and movement. Time had carved lines into her face and stolen the pigment from her hair. Time, slowly, had taken her mother's youth and just like the town had left her the same but ever changed. She moved slowly around the garden, her focus on the abundance of flowers and plants that surrounded her. Each step seemed unsure as if they were attempting to turn back time. It pained Morana to see her mother like this. She had imagined returning home, one day, after her dreams had been achieved. Now she was here, but not the way she wanted to be. Not with a sense of achievement but with a feeling of great regret. She wanted to call out to her mother, to tell her about her travels. But she couldn't bring herself to speak. Instead, she stepped closer to the house, now noticing the flowers her mother was so focused on.
One such flower had been plucked from its bed. A white chrysanthemum. Morana’s mother stopped, and her focus shifted. With shaking hands, she knelt, reaching for the flower. Slowly, she rose back up, looking out at the street. A tear ran down her face at the sight of the familiar flower, but still, she smiled. Out onto the street, she smiled. Ear to ear. Morana had longed to see that smile for so long. Her own eyes welled with tears. Tears that streamed down her face, leaving not a mark on the road beneath her. She smiled, she looked into her mother's eyes and she smiled.
She wept and she smiled, one final time, for she knew her mother couldn't see her. She never would. But in that moment, even for a second, she felt seen. She felt alive again.
The short story Morana uses a range of literary devices and structures to represent the central theme of death. Throughout the story, death is represented with sub-representations, via themes of regret and grief. This is indicated as the main character follows a journey, initially without the indication of death, allowing it to be represented in a more metaphorical way. In doing this, the emotions and feelings associated with death can be represented without death being the main focus, only later is the exact representation revealed. This allows the reader to become immersed in the story without any prior assumptions about death. This further causes the reader to be subconsciously influenced by the symbols in the story, as they initially are not aware that these are all a part of death. Additional messages are also created by representing death in this way. For example, regret is a major part of this story, forcing the reader to empathise with the character via the theme of “never take anything for granted”
The structure of the story follows the traditional short story style. Starting out with an exposition, background information relating to the character's situation is provided. From this point, the “journey” through the town acts as the rising action in the story. The climax would then be considered the moment in which she reaches her house, the goal of her “journey”. Finally, the coda of the story refers to the revelation that she is a ghost, allowing the reader to look back at the story in a different light.
The most prominent technique used in this story is the use of symbolism and subsequent foreshadowing. For instance, the name “Morana” is used as the title and throughout the story. Initially, this name acts as a symbol, as the name itself symbolises death. This also works to foreshadow the plot twist shown at the end. Similarly, the chrysanthemum flower used twice in the story acts as a strong symbol of death, foreshadowing the same plot twist as well as symbolising some aspects of acceptance. Furthermore, repetition is used to place emphasis on specific actions in the story, helping indicate their symbolic meaning. The main use of repetition in this story is seen through the action of smiling (the original title). This action is the only form of communication in the story. This helps represent that it is deeper than a simple movement, it shows regret, reminiscence, and finally, acceptance. This influences the reader the more it is used, as eventually they become aware of the movement acting as communication. Imagery and descriptive language are further used to highlight important visual features in the story. For example, “Time had carved lines into her face and stolen the pigment from her hair.” (Perkovic, 2024) describes her mother's face, indicating grey hair and wrinkles caused by ageing. This forces the reader to envision the situation by showing rather than telling. Rather than simply describing the mothers features, the reader needs to think beyond descriptive words, forming their own interpretation of how time impacts an individual. Furthermore, flashbacks are used throughout the whole story. For example, “She remembered fondly the days she would rush to the quaint shop after school just to chat with the owner. He was an elderly man, who Morana believed had lived thousands of lives.” (Perkovic, 2024). In this instance, a childhood memory is shown, helping the reader empathise as such childhoods are often associated with innocence and vulnerability. This same part of the text also hints at the sickness and death of the couple in the story, helping foreshadow their later ghostly appearance to the audience. Finally, a plot twist is used at the very end of the story. This is one of the main techniques as it reveals the symbolism and foreshadowing throughout the entire story. The final sentence “She felt alive again.” (Perkovic, 2024) reveals this plot twist. From this point, the reader understands that throughout the entirety of the story, the main character has been a ghost. This reveals the deathly meaning of the flowers, as well as the appearance of the seemingly passed couple. This plot twist also works to reveal how much the reader has been influenced by the smile repetition in the story. This further reveals why her tears never hit the pavement as well as why her photo contains 2 dates beneath it. Birth and death. The reader understands that all the emotions and messages they have noticed throughout the story have all been an aspect of death. This leaves a mark on the reader, as they have read the story without any assumptions about the emotions associated with death. This forces them to rethink what and how they were feeling throughout the story. A similar method can be seen in “The Sniper” by Liam O’Flaherty, as all of the emotions and messages throughout the story have come from the belief that the individuals are strangers. Similarly, all of the emotions and messages throughout Morana have come from the reader's belief that Morana is alive.
Onomastics Outside the Box. (n.d). Deathly Names. https://onomasticsoutsidethebox.wordpress.com/2016/10/19/deathly-names/#:~:text=Morana%20was%20the%20Slavic%20goddess,is%20commonly%20used%20in%20Croatia.
Osbornes Funeral Directors and Advisors. (n.d). The Meaning of Popular Funeral Flowers. https://osbornes.co.nz/the-meaning-of-popular-funeral-flowers/#:~:text=Specifically%2C%20in%20France%2C%20Spain%2C,and%20mourning%20in%20these%20countries.
Liam O’Flaherty. (1923). British Socialist Newspaper. https://www.supersummary.com/the-sniper/summary/