Two Shadows on Yorozuyo Bridge

Inspired by an image of two people, forever imprinted on the walls of Yorozuyo bridge in Hiroshima.

        In the early morning, Eijiro had told her, they would meet. Kiyomi had not slept.Her parents were old, her brothers all gone from the house, and no one ever woke her early these days. She feared she would not make it to meet him in time, that he would be left to sit alone on the bench at Yorozuyo bridge, where they had first met. To keep Eijiro waiting for one moment too long was something she dared not to do.

 

       Her mother always chided her. "Kiyo," mother said, " to win a man a woman must prove herself to be a perfect wife. She must arrive early, or at least on time, every time they meet. She must take care in her appearance, and her manner, when she is with him..."  The lecture would go on for hours, at times, until Kiyomi thought that perhaps a monastic, unmarried life was appealing. Had marriage made her mother the woman she was?

      

      The truth was, her parents no longer wished to feed her. For three years, they had tried to force her upon one friend of the family's son or another, who made enough to support her, but whom she did not love. She was now seen by most eligible men in Hiroshima as too old to marry, at 27. Not to mention, she was not an ideal beauty. Kiyomi's skin was a little too dark, her feet were not as small as they should be, her hands were not dainty, her eyes were almost black.

 

       Yet, much to their surprise, along came Eijiro, whose young wife had died in childbirth, and the child with her. He was an employee in her brother's shop, not a rich man, and not a charming one, by her mother's standards. Still, her parents allowed him to see their daughter, and hoped to soon see Kiyomi out of the house. They were only allowed to meet in public, often with an escort. It was only in the early hours of the morning that they could sneak off and find time alone. Eijiro worked at night, and Kiyomi's parents slept until well past noon, since they were no longer working.

 

      Theirs was a deep, consuming passion. The time between moments alone was excruciating for Kiyomi, and she knew that Eijiro felt the same. It was evident- the way he crushed her with his kisses until they should have hurt, the way he looked at her every time they touched fingers. They would meet beneath the bridge a few mornings a week, and just cling to one another, often to the amusement, or the disgust, of the few passers-by. They would whisper of the time when Eijiro would have a home ready and made for them to live in together, so that they could marry. He had lost his home in burying his arranged wife, and son. They dreamed of the sons they would raise, the times they would share, just being together, as one...

 

     Bathed, perfumed, dressed in her finest green silk  (the one he said made her most beautiful) and with her feet shoved into her tiniest shoes, Kiyomi half-ran all the way to the bridge from her house, fearing that she was tardy thanks to her efforts to stun Eijiro.

 

     She was a little late, her feet stinging, probably blistered in those little black satin shoes she had bound so tightly.  Yet, there he sat, her Eijiro, and she forgot about being late. How he smiled when he saw her, as no other woman had ever existed, as though she were the sunrise on the most beautiful day of the year. His tall, thin frame rose to greet her in one of those crushing embraces. As always, it made her tremble, her legs feel weak. Kiyomi gasped and flushed, as yet again she imagined embracing him in this way without silk and linen between their fleshes.

 

    "I have wonderful news, Kiyomi!', Eijiro then half-shouted.

 

    "Yes?", she beamed at his joyousness, so filled with love and light for this most wonderful man, eager to hear him say what she knew the news must be.

 

    " I have purchased a house! We can be married in a month!" His eyes were nearly tearful, and again they clung together, half weeping with joy, the both of them.

 

   " And begin to fill it, our home, with the steps of our son's feet," Kiyomi whispered, " the sons of our love. I so long to touch you, alone."

 

   Eijiro looked at this woman, then, as though seeing her for the first time. He could not believe that after the tragedy of losing his wife, his infant son, his new love was standing before him, more radiant and beautiful than he had imagined any wife of his could ever be. Her beauty was in her love for him, in her manner of speaking, in her intellect and wit. She never bored or annoyed him, and she never complained as his deceased wife had. And then, his face dropped, the smile faded, the guilt came rushing back.

 

   " I should not be this happy," he admitted to Kiyomi, whose smile had faded as she had seen him do.

 

   " What do you mean, Eijiro?"

 

   He did not know how to tell her his thoughts without making her sad. Yet he was sad, and he had no one else to speak with. He dropped his head, trying to form the words right. " I feel sometimes that I do not deserve to have you, to love you in this way. I feel sometimes I dishonor my other wife, my son, in loving you- and the idea of OUR children- more."

 

   With this, Eijiro resigned himself back into the bench, and Kiyomi sat down beside him. There were tears in her eyes. The knowledge that he had created those tears tore him down to his soul. He should not have shared his thoughts. He only wanted to see her happy. Never again in their lives would he make her cry. He loved her too much. If some things he had to keep hidden, to prevent her tears, then he was determined that he must.

 

   " I love you, Eijiro. I love you more than anyone else could ever love you. Please do not feel guilty for loving me the same, as I believe you do.I have waited all my life to be no one else's wife. The others I turned away, for it was only you I was meant to love, and will do so for all of my life, if you will just let me."

 

   She turned from him for a moment, wiping her tears away, hoping he had not seen them. She pretended to look out over the gently rippling water, at the calm trees, the clouds.

 

   It was unseemly, according to Kiyomi, to gush to him as she just had; Eijiro knew her thoughts. He turned from her, and then heard something. Something loud. He looked toward the sound, stunned, as did Kiyomi.

 

  "What..."

 

    And then a great blazing light, a powerful flash- -their hopes, their fears, their dreams... incinerated, leaving only two shadows upon the wall of Yorozuyo bridge, forever.

 

 

 

 

Remembering the Shadows of Hiroshima May 10, 2008 - Dec 15, 2008

My story, Two Shadows on Yorozuyo Bridge, was inspired by a photo of two x-ray "shadows" left on the wall. ( I am featuring it so it will be easy to find.)The picture is included in the story.
The challenge to you is to make your own story about these two people sitting on the bench that day in Hiroshima, when the atomic bomb incinerated them, leaving only this "shadow". Look at the picture, decide who they were.
Your entry can be a story, a poem, anything you are inspired to write. [more]

 

Author's Note

I have tried to create a personality for those two souls incinerated, amongst so many others, that fateful day in Hiroshima. No one has ever ventured a guess as to the identity of those two "shadows". The images of these people, left on the bridge, have not left me unaffected. Who do you think they were? Feel free to make your own story. They could have been anyone, doing anything, on that fateful day.

Reviews

[Susan S.]

I am so very glad that you have told this story and that the people who reviewed it have spoken as they have. When I first heard about the two images set in flash on the stone I wrote a story about it. It was the beginning of my writing career.

Your story is far, far beyond anything I could have written. As I recall, my story was more madam butterfly in nature. I was quite young. I wish you all the luck in the contest you're promoting. I'll try to do something, but I'm not sure I can come close to this amazing write.

[sutoraika]

this is amazing and extremely sad. great job!

[Ian Lundin]

You have done justice to two souls who were dealt a great injustice in life. I should think that wherever they are, those spirits are smiling upon you. Your insight is phenomenal, and this made for a fantastic read. Thank you for sharing it.

[Samuel Dickens]

Some would prefer to think of those lives lost as just being "the enemy," but that's not how I feel. I'm a citizen of the world, and I feel loss, no matter where or who the people are. Thank you for giving identities to the shadows, Constance. If I was king of the world, I'd put a stop to wars, or I'd certainly try. Samuel

[Ralphy]

You took me back into my childhood with this extreme story about the shadows. I remember the stories but never have I read any personalities that bring the precise moment to light.
Your story not only signifies a love but also bridges them in time forever. This was unique and powerful.

[Wyatt McIntyre]

A powerful story. You definitely got the effect that you were looking for as two lonely souls, searching for happiness, and a sense of companionship, two people looking for another to escape to the arms of so that they could leave the hardship and the hurt of the lives they had behind, only to have their lives cut short by circumstances out of their control. Just as they find that peace they are taken from this world. Yet there can't be escaped this feeling that now they belong to time or that they, though not in name or in who they were specificly, go on, almost as if to be seen and to question who they were and what their story was in the tragedy of that one moment, existing forever as shadows on this earth. Definately a powerful story, with vivid images weaved together with deep passion and longing and the way the world can change in the blink of an eye, either good or bad, to create vastly different picture than what we see or what we know.

[Jason]

Wow. Great job. I never had known about those 'shadows' you speak of. Thank you for the history and for the story. Terrific!
~jason