Chapter 6: ‘Memories Traced by a Corpse’
The novel “Memories Traced by a Corpse” is classified as a surreal fantasy.
Told in the first person, it begins with a man whom we know only as “I” awaking in an unfamiliar train station.
With no idea why he is there, the main character leaves the station and starts to wander the city at twilight. The everyday scenery around him gradually begins to distort, and discrepancies develop between his memory and what he is experiencing.
He begins to lose his grasp on what is reality and what is not, and as the story progresses even his identity becomes uncertain.
In the end, the boundary between life and death itself becomes blurred, and while walking along the beach with a long-dead schoolmate he reveals that he considers himself as “nothing but a corpse”.
The story ends suddenly with a scene of the beach below the moon.
Back then, I’d bought and read a new book almost every week, but my discovery of “Memories Traced by a Corpse” was by pure chance.
One day, in a bookstore I frequented, I came across a man staring intently at something on a display table.
When I followed his gaze, I saw a book’s cover depicting a moonlit beach.
There was an illustration of a large beach seen from above, and in its center was a tiny silhouette of a person.
The figure was mostly likely the protagonist. But it was hard to make out any details from its small shadow.
Feeling a certain attraction to this mysterious book, I picked it up.
It ended up taking me three years to decipher it.
Even now, I’m not confident I understand it completely.
That’s because the book has carefully thought out hints placed all throughout it.
––––”Memories Traced by a Corpse” is a pandora’s box, and its author Mitsunori Sugikata is a monster.
Or so I had thought.
“Go to see Mitsunori Sugikata…You mean in your imagination?”
“I don’t understand why I would do such a thing, nor how I would bring you into my imagination.”
“It’s your imagination, so you’d only be thinking I was together with you, whereas in reality I wouldn’t be.”
“You make me sound like a really pitiful person. To think I’d go information hunting with an imaginary person who doesn’t even exist…”
“Hold on a second–I do exist.”
“Oh well. I guess I’ll go to Mitsunori Sugikata’s place with an imaginary you. That’ll be nice since I won’t have to pay your bus fare.”
“Will you stop already? Why the heck are you trying to visit Mitsunori Sugikata in the real world?”
Whether I existed or not wasn’t the issue here, and talking about going out with an imaginary me was just Saki’s attempt to annoy me.
Ready to pull my hair out from frustration, I tried to get the conversation back on track.
“Do you really know where Mitsunori Sugikata lives?”
“Of course. He lives in this city.”
“That’s close.”
Naturally, this caught me off guard at first, but after thinking about it, I realized that maybe it wasn’t that surprising after all.
Of all the many books that are on sale everyday, there’s surely some reason for each book that gets displayed upon a bookstore’s table.
The most common reason is simply that the book’s author lives nearby.
I guess I’d never considered such an obvious connection because to me, Mitsunori Sugikata was like an imaginary person.
It’s not uncommon to confuse a book’s author and it’s characters, but it was embarrassing to have done this myself.
If Saki were to rub this in my face I’d probably drop dead on the spot.
“Silly boy. That means you had thought of Mitsunori Sugikata as a character in his own book, right?”
“I’m not going to drop dead. Sorry to disappoint you!”
“Did you just loose your mind? Or are you battling with an imaginary person?”
“Don’t blame me. This is all your fault!”
We’re not getting anywhere.
Talking to Saki is just like reading her novel. Long-winded and utterly unproductive.
I said, “Anyway, let’s go. Come on already,” and lead her out of the station.
We boarded a bus departing for the outskirts of town.
From the last seat of the nearly empty bus I watched the scenery outside the window.
Since we’d wasted so much time on the train going in circles, it was already evening.
Saki began talking from the seat next to me.
“Whenever I let you speak, you’re so long-winded and the conversation is utterly unproductive, so I’ll just explain.”
“You’re the one telling me?! This is all your fault!”
“When I was young, Mitsunori Sugikata lived next to me.”
“Oh really?”
“He moved away when I was in middle school, but when he published his book we were still neighbors.”
While I listened to Saki speak, I tried to recall what I knew about “Memories Traced by a Corpse”.
The book had went on sale five years ago, but like many others it apparently didn’t sell very well.
The actual sales figures were only available to the government, and the general public had no way to know them. But judging from the fact that there were very few blogs or sites which mentioned this book, the rumors about it not selling much were probably true.
But at the same time, it was also true that there was a passionate cult following by a small group of people.
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