A Letter Left by Monica

After he left, the pain in my heart felt like a sudden snowstorm, blowing waves of sorrowful songs. I cried in this fierce wind of heartbreak, but I could not summon back his silent silhouette. It was as if all of this would become a futile waiting in my homeland. With a desolate expression, I took out my Scottish bagpipes from the house and played them, hoping to send my longing to him, drifting gently into his heart.

At that moment, I suddenly recalled his last words before leaving: "Louisiana." I didn't know why, but my intuition kept telling me that this was a region in some country. As I thought back to the places I had traveled and the locations he had visited, it seemed to be somewhere in Europe or America. Without hesitation, I returned to my room, took out my long-forgotten world map, and studied its intricate routes. I wanted to give up, but when I thought of him suffering for my sake, I gathered my resolve. After packing my backpack, I prepared to embark on my journey to Europe.

I walked lightly through the bamboo forest he once traversed. Unable to resist, I stopped to admire the small pond among the bamboo trees, where the gentle sounds of flowing water intertwined with the playful splashes of fish. Their playfulness reminded me of what I had done to him. My ears seemed to turn red at the thought. The sunlight spread its golden gaze across the verdant earth, and for no apparent reason, tears welled up in my eyes. I continued walking, with the melodies of folk songs drifting into my ears. The singing had now become proof of my determination to find him, an expression of my love for him. This love, I did not wish to walk alone, nor did I wish to leave behind. Even if snowflakes fell endlessly, I would have no regrets, bound by the vow of eternal companionship.

"D-D-Demon is coming! Run!" a villager suddenly shouted.

I had no idea why they called me that or why they scattered in fear. But I had no time to concern myself with them—my instincts told me that I had to leave immediately, or I would be in danger. I quickened my pace, at first just walking briskly, but soon, unconsciously, I found myself running. Eventually, I escaped from the small village hidden within the forest. Still panting and trembling from the fright, I looked up at the sky and realized it was already nighttime. Among the stars, I seemed to see his outline. Tears streamed down my face, but when I recalled his back as he departed, I wiped them away. Encouraging myself to move forward, I knew I had to persist. Regaining my composure, I continued on my journey.

As the deep night enveloped the land, my path grew increasingly lonely and desolate. Exhausted, I found a large tree to lean against and drifted into sleep. When I opened my eyes again, the warm morning sunlight had already greeted the sky. Birds chirped atop the tree branches, as if protesting the arrival of dawn. I tried to stand, but my body refused to move. Only when I turned around did I realize that carrying my backpack all day yesterday had drained me completely. I took it off, stretched a little, then shouldered it once more and resumed my journey.

Along the way, I spotted a particularly large banyan tree, its dense vines winding up the trunk and sprawling across the branches. They swayed freely, undisturbed by the wind and rain. How I wished I could sit here with him, resting quietly against his not-so-broad yet reliable shoulders! Whether lost in thought or simply overwhelmed by exhaustion, a sudden urge to cry welled up inside me. But I quickly calmed myself, drew a small knife from its sheath, and carved a mark into the banyan tree—so that when I returned, I could follow these markings back to the home I once knew.

I continued walking through the land when, all of a sudden, I heard the faint sound of horse hooves. Following the sound, I waded through tall grass, passed mysterious trees, and crossed layers of misty woodland. As I parted the dense foliage, the sight before me was far from the beauty I had imagined. Thick smoke curled up from chimneys, and beneath the grass lay gaunt, hollow-eyed soldiers trudging forward with great difficulty. They looked as if they hadn't eaten in days. Fearful that any sudden movement on my part might startle them into firing their guns, I dared not move an inch.

I didn't know how much time had passed, but eventually, one soldier after another collapsed from exhaustion. Suddenly, a group of men arrived and began loading them onto a vehicle, their destination unknown. It was as if orphans were crying in the wind. My curiosity about this place deepened, and I reached out to grab a passerby, asking where I was.

"This... this is an endless hell," the stranger replied.