Pyry

Pyry is a 25-year-old exchange student from Tampere, Finland. He loves experiencing, discussing, and creating stories. Studying at Akita International University has been the best time of his life, and it has also fueled his creative writing.

Our Summer Cottage, an Old House on a Hill

Birch and spruce trees and the shore of a lake, no sign of outsiders. Safety, comfort, soothing silence. Silence were it not for the birds, their cheerful high-pitched songs echoing far away. Green leaves everywhere outside the window, brown dirt mixing in, eternal turquoise up above, the sunlight frozen in time.

Inside the house, I am sitting on my favorite chair in the world, a rocking chair, easy to move back and forth. Next to me my mom, enjoying her book as much as I am enjoying mine. Our tuxedo cat resting on a blanket, tired after a morning of preying on moles in the bushes. She stretches while being comforted by a ray of light.

The smell of roses coming from pink, scented candles, emphasizing the sweetness of the moment. Ancient, brown cupboards with sculpted cuckoos and fruits, a fireplace dark with ash. The cat’s water and food cups half-full, snacks scattered by her, bits smeared into the fabric of the rug. Sunlight bleaching white old walls with cracked wallpaper.

Me, too absorbed in my book. For time is, in the end, not frozen, and this tranquil scenery is rare and fleeting. The summer ending, life and death resuming, far away from paradise. Stress crawling back into the system.

But for just a bit longer, appreciation of the little things. Sielu lepää.

The Anthill Bustle

Rapid movement in the anthill,

Folk tumbling about,

Crashing, connecting,

No rest for the intoxicated

Ant colliding with ant,

Hugging, kissing,

Losing more control each second,

In the tunnels across the anthill

All in the service of their personal queens,

Pleasure, substances, money

The past, the future

Hopes and dreams

Inside it is warm and soft

Never mind the stench

Of liquid and broken people

For this is the best night of the ant

No space for the quiet ones

For the anthill bustles

The bright night dependent on the ideal

Of a fun party with fun ants

And the anthill never stops

The party eternal

Worker ants trapped in the cycle

Created by their hedonistic monarchs

Backback in Bastille

I am hugging your back daily,

Sometimes light, sometimes heavy.

Always taking care of thine

valuables, trash, and plum wine.

Some would call me cumbersome,

For I am huge in comparison.

I am a bottomless pit,

On me you can even sit.

But from you I ask:

When will the labor end,

Letting me get on the mend?

Are your items necessary,

Or just vanity’s emissary?

Can I not ask for some care,

When you give me so much wear?

Toward Solitude

Blea leapt a few dozen feet onto the side of a tall signboard on top of a broken-down mall and surveyed the vista for a moment. He saw his scaly siblings swimming in a muddy riverbend nearby, slowly and unenthusiastically. For all of them, the situation was dire: food was running low. While insects were still around, easy enough to catch with his lengthy extending tongue, the thought of fresh human meat made him mad with gluttony. But he hadn’t seen them in weeks. He wondered whether they had escaped his pack intentionally, or if something else had made them disappear. Blea’s hunger made him miss the clumsy two-legged prey. If only some would stagger to him from the street below…

The lizard momentarily regained his composure and continued upwards, using his sticky pads and thick tail to stay balanced. In moments Blea had climbed high on top of the sign coated with overgrown vines. There he could enjoy peace for a little while, away from his pack where the atmosphere was moody at best. However, the normally beautiful sunset made him feel more desperate than before. This new shortage of flesh was a never-before-seen obstacle for them, and it felt like this could be the end of everything. To survive, changes had to happen soon. Should they swim upriver to uncharted territory, toward the larger cities? Should they split up, despite having stuck together since breaking out from their mother’s eggs? As tensions had begun to rise, the giant reptilian had started considering a solitary lifestyle. Maybe all of this was a sign from the God of Depths that it was time for independence?

These thoughts were interrupted by screeching and hissing. Some of the siblings were fighting next to the pack’s burrowed nesting grounds. Blea sighed, reminisced for a second longer about the good old days of glorious hunting, and then bolted toward his pack. As the strongest, he had had the responsibility to take care of others for a long time. But now he was finished with this farce. Breaking up this fight would be the last thing he did for his pack – it was time for freedom.

Inari

Cold, fresh air, fought against with blankets and warm plum wine. A million glimmering holes above, created by an almighty one’s needle to shine light on and inspire us. Then, fast movement, coming from something elegant enough to not be a bear, but also too large to be a cat. Under the shadow it approaches, entering a bush ten feet away. Sparkling eyes and bright fur betray the secret agent – it is a fox! We circle each other for a long time, changing positions, curious but not daring to approach the other party. Eventually it is time to leave half a mile away, to watch the heavenly holes for a bit longer. There, complete silence and relaxation, until the fair agent makes a mistake, a rickety noise from its step. It has followed! Once again, curious pairs of eyes examining each other. Then, respectful distance, and a parting of ways. The furry friend does not appear again, perhaps because of having his pride hurt by being noticed multiple times. But the shooting stars above underline the magic of the night.

Our Shrine

Sacred shrine, warming light in the darkness, covered by blessed nature. The pleasant smell of shampoo, fair bats flying above us. An invisible bird making an infernal sound, a stark contrast to what is below him: serenity. The melody Sixth Station, comforting but also reminding me of finite time. Still, we are far away from there.

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