Cancer The Crab

June 22 - July 22

Cancer is a Water Sign and Cardinal Sign
Cancer is ruled by the Moon

Cancer is the 31st largest constellation in the sky, occupying an area of 506 square degrees. Cancer contains two Messier objects – the Beehive Cluster (M44, NGC 2632) and M67 (NGC 2682) – and has two stars with known planets.

     There were many stories told.

Parables, tales, legends, metaphores, and oddly enough, astronomy.

Byun Sora was only eight when her father died. Beforehand, he was her storyteller. Her gateway into the skies far above the galaxies and the nebulas and crossing paths between planets far imaginative than the current ones in the solar system.

Her father, Byun Sangook, was a illustrator and childrens book writer. While everyone around them deemed it a completely futile job her father persisted and made the most of his and hers imaginations combined. Those brown eyes would sparkle brighter than the billions of stars intermingled into this one heated ball of the sun. There, his large hands would map out this newly crafted world and body imitate the creatures haboring it.

"Don't you see it, Sora? I can see each and every partical dancing around you." Where? She would ask him.

"Everywhere!" He then exclaimed. "Absolutely everywhere. And they are quite fond of you, too."

Eventually came the phrase so ingrained in her conscious. Walk two moons. Simply what did it mean? At least by the way her father addressed it they were walking in many scenarios. Many lives and numerous of adventures crafted by his colorful drawings and unique sketches and intriguing tales.

Sora for the most part was plain. A very plain girl with plain eyes and plain hair and an incredibly plain personality. She never thought of herself as extraordinary, and yet her father exaulted her as some significant person worth the praise. In her eyes, her father was actually the exuberant one. The person with all the bright ideas and constantly talking about them.

How many children would come to storytime every weekend to watch them role play the stories he told Sora before she went to sleep. The one she remembers most is the Cancer Crab and little Moondrop. It was a simple story about no more than ten pages, yet it felt everlasting than all the other stories. Why? Probably because it is based off herself.

Maybe its the ego from within. Or the appreciation Sora feels as being described plain doesn't affect her as much.

Curious little Cancer Crab stood near the sea,

Wondering where her family went, and feeling a little lonely,

Cancer Crab decided to travel far and wide,

Hoping to find some companionship, using the moon as her guide. 

Eventually, Curious little Cancer Crab grew very sad,

Why so sad? "Well, there was no one here to befriend me." Said the little crab,

So the little Cancer Crab cried and cried, crying to her hearts content.

"I will befriend you!" The crab looks up and saw the moon, large and round and smile quite innoncent,

The little crab shouts to the top of her lungs, "How can you befriend me? You are in the sky!"

"That I am," The Moon soon replies, "But I can send a little Moondrop to make everything alright,"

So the Moon then sends one of the stars from the galaxies into the sea,

Washing upon the shore, the star becomes a little Moondrop, a shining pearl far prettier than any other pearl, an absolute beauty.

"Do not worry Cancer Crab, it will be alright." Says the little Moondrop, "Let's become friends and roam the night."

Curious little Cancer Crab rushes towards the precious pearl, "Oh, why thank you!" A big hug, the crab smiles happily,

Little Moondrop and Cancer Crab then wanders the shore and seas, finding delight in each other's companionship, forever close they vowed to be.

Byun Sangook was, and always will be, the magnetar of her life. But it has to be a cursed of fate when her father went to work one morning only to be greeted in the evening with a sobbing mother and two police officers comforting them. The news hits Sora like fierce lightening parting the skies followed by an intense rumble of thunder. 

The revelation that the world they wonderfully built ceased to exist. It crumbled. Hard and devestating similiar to an apocalyptic nightmare that came into fruition. The reality overrided fantasy, and it was a hard pill to swallow that her father died in an unnecessary accident due to someone's drunken reckless actions.

And as for Byun Sora, well, she returned into a plain girl. A very plain girl with plain eyes and plain hair and a blank slate of a personality. She held interest in very little things even when her mother became some radical fanatic over a bunch astrological nonsense. Maybe a way to cope with the loss. Maybe a way to seek past the bleakness in their dull lives. Although it held mysticm, it lacked formation and structure that her father always managed to properly create.

It lacked a world, to say within the least.

She grew up without much to say. What is there to say, really? She never cared for sports, never liked singing, dancing, listened to very little music, held little interest in novels and makeup and definitely cannot draw a single stick figure to save her life. Her mother on the other hand married three different men and became irrational with fortune tellers and unrealistic card reading. The first husband was young, far too young, and the marriage went into flames, then the second one was viscious and cruel, and the last one was far too old to be a husband and more of a... life insurance provider.

Her eyes looks at the clock again. The minute hand grazes lightly against the the twelvth roman numeral followed by the short hand. About a couple seconds later both hands reaches the twelvth hour. The urge to groan swirls inside her but Sora refused to make a sound. Instead, she decided to busy herself by wiping down the tabletops and hoping for the third hour to eventually arrive.

Working double shifts can only do so much. She was deteriorating gradually, her body dissolving into fine ashes in an hourglass and counting the minutes before her bones finally shatter and health crumbles. But she must persist. The options are quite limited and it is not like she has many opportunities to choose from at this time.

Bell chimes. A string of voices follows.

She already know those voices. The tunes, the sounds, the pitches of their flunky vocabulary and rich laughter and Sora soon sighs. She can already hear the hideous squeals of the waitresses behind the counters and it is this time that Sora finally groans.

"It's them again!"

"I have been waiting all night just to see them. I almost was ready to clock out."

"Which one do you want? I'll take Jungkook and you can get Jimin..."

"No! It's my turn to serve Jimin this time!" Their squabbling sounded like a bunch of hungry vultures fighting over the last corpse available in the field. Not that it truly matters because those boys looked like people who would turn their noses at mere peasants such as herself.

Look at them! Dressed in their awfully lavish clothes with material far expensive than the annual income of this entire town combined. But suppose that really shouldn't matter. The word is spreading around that some of those boys flirt and tip the waitresses good money, and by the sound of their high squeals they obviously do not seem to mind. Regardless, Sora finishes cleaning her tables and swept the remaining trash into the dustpan.

Just a couple more hours and then she should be able to return home.

Working at a Western-inspired 24 hour breakfast joint happened to have a few perks. Suppose the main enjoyment is the frequency of foreigners coming in and the option of customers tipping. Yes, having extra money. It might be considered arrogant to eagerly accept it, but hell, as if her already struggling self can live off seven dollars an hour without constantly working doubles.

10 AM to 2 AM in the mornings every single day. Is it tough? Damn straight it is, but luckily enough she can have three days off every other week. After all, it shouldn't matter how she feels as long as her mother is comfortable. That is what truly matters.

Her plain eyes then meets the familiarity of blazed bronze. A comforting stream of hot chocolate eyes staring straight at her and Sora can feel the strangeness happening in her face again. Her jaw slacks, then tightens almosts immediately and she glances away.

.

Perhaps the only thing remotely interesting about her is having a crush. Yes, she admits, having a measily little crush probably shouldn't be worth defining her characteristics but there's not much to say about herself. 

Byun Sora, a plain girl who lived her majority life without purpose has a crush on someone. Pfft, as if that is even worth stating.

But yes, she finds herself heating up whenever she look into those eyes, and the owner of those same eyes appears incredibly interesting and bold and quite vivid with expressions far imaginative than her own. It sends her monotonous mind into this wild frenzy of anxiousness, nervousness, uncertainty and the constant fear...- but in a good way. A way that she almosts begs to feel it, somewhat. To whisk her away from the once harsh reality into a place of comfort and hope, an outlook on life rather than endless misery sounds blissful. Sadly, it is only a few fleeting moments before reality knocks on her door of consciousness and reminds her it is nothing more than that, fiction. 

So Sora watches with careful eyes as the giddy hostess seats the four gentleman to a relatively large table. It is then when one of the eager waitresses, Soojin, swiftly greets the table. Sora decides to ease near one of the back windows to observe in silence.

She's familiar with most of them...- at least, the ones who frequent the place. Usually there's seven of them in total, but within the last week or so it has only been ranging from three to two. Still, regardless of the different guys changing out there is one particular person who remains.

The One with Umber Eyes.

She isn't the one to title situations this way, let alone describe people in such a manner. Damn her for carrying her father's traits but again, that is what her mind reverts to when seeing him. 

Sora doesn't really recall his name nor bothers to. There is nothing intriguing about his name. "Welcome to Pancake House guys! So glad you managed to come back and see us again." Soojin follows with a sickly sweet tone of laughter. The gentlemen seemed to be equally receptive of it with their own set of chuckles.

Sora pursed her lips.

Ah, Lee Soojin, a popular girl in many regards but most notably her appearance. If father would describe Soojin, he would frame the young woman as a marvelous Queen of the Neptune Sea. Doeish almond eyes, a clear complexion and delicate hourglass frame that would bring many women (including herself) to total jealousy. While Soojin's face was structered with porcelain from the finest materials and polished beautifully with every cautious detail, Sora is nothing more than old ceramic splattered with cheap paint.

Alas, Sora knew that standing from afar observing the scenary would bring eventual attention to herself. And let's be honest, there is nothing remotely comforting having all eyes directed on her. With a subtle limp in her step Sora took the broom and dustpan back into the kitchen, but not before she sent another fleeting glance at The One with Umber Eyes again. He seemed to have his attention focused on the waitress, yet for a split second his eyes met hers again. 

By the time it happened Sora entered the back door.

Sora waited in the back of the house for a few minutes before peering outside the kitchen window. By the looks of it the hostess just seated a two top in her section. Foreigners, probably no older than in their thirties and very blond and donned in lazy graying jumpsuits. 

Usually with foreigners Pancake House has an English menu and a few translators. She happened to be one of the translators, but sadly her English can be broken and somewhat misplaced, too. Even so, it's enough to get by and communicate the basics between her and them.

     "Mom? I'm home!"

"Deary? Oh I am so glad! Please come over, I need to show you something." Walking home with a limping leg has always been quite the challenge. Not to mention overly aching feet burning deep into the bottom of her soles; so much so that the skin of her heels were already rubbing raw from standing over ten hours, and she would only receive perhaps no more than six hours of relief. 

"Yes, mom?"

Their home was, and always have been, the same home from twenty two years ago. It is nothing more than a traditionally small home to be blunt. A small home with a simple living room, with walls painted in a soft amber and old wooden floors that would creak everytime they moved across the room. Long curtains beyond old age in a rugged color of mildrew green. The lightening provided by the old table lamps illuminated their home in an almost reminiscent manner, but she could honestly care less.

The furniture outdated and dusty, and then the television is old and unused for quite some time. Sora follows her mother's voice in the kitchen with a frown since majority of the times that is where her mother would always be.

A burst of souring vegetables hits Sora's face the moment she enters into the kitchen. The lights were off, darkness pooling into the kitchen if it wasn't for the six candles littered around the marbled counters. 

"Mom? What are you doing now?"

"We are entering into the Pieces crossed alignment," mother states this as if it is the most critical information to consider. Hunched over the table was a woman in her late fifties with wispy short and pepperish colored hair all tied in a messy bun. Mother's frame was relatively thin, although much frailer than usual as majority of her clothing were steadily increasing in its size. Eyes tight and slanted upwards the woman murmured some incoherable words, then full sentences.

"While Mercury retrograde slows down communication and urges you to avoid signing contracts, you can still expect more psychic insights, especially on the new moon in Pisces. Your sign tends to romanticize the past, but use your self-awareness to remember that those relationships ended for a reason." Dear god, not this again.

Sora pinches the bridge of her nose and inhales a sharp breath. "Mom-" "honey, I think this month might bring a new spark in our lives." Her mother always held this strange fascination towards psuedoscience. It never made any logical sense but it never stopped her mother from believing it.

Sora sighs, staring at her mother.

"Did you pay this month's utility bills?"

"The what?"

"Utility bills," Sora repeats, almost in sheer frustration at the lack of response. "The ones that is due this week." Mother pulls away from the messy table hoarded with a discarded side of mail and magazines and glittery cards laid in a mismatched pile. She blinks owlishly, confused by the words and trying to process it.

"I thought it was due next month?"

Sora wanted to bury herself in her hands.

This has been the third time mother forgot to pay the bills. Additionally, she has been forgetting other things like taking her daily prescription or attending weekly doctor visits. Sometimes she will even forget to clean the fridgerator and accidentally eat expired food. "No mom, the bills are due this Friday." Sora's words tumbles out of as her chest grew heavy with dread. 

. , , .

I have to work a double shift this Friday. Maybe I can take off for a couple hours to pay them. It shouldn't be too hard, though the utility bills suddenly went from seventy dollars to over a hundred within the last couple of months. Unfortunately the committee board that oversee their local county concluded a genius idea to raise the expenses and taxes to, quote, "allocate finances for better opportunities".

Opportunites her ... 

"Honey, what's wrong?" In those confused and awfully concerned eyes of her mother's Sora wanted to grieve. Wanted to cry how painful it is to watch the only person in her life slowly deteriorate. To simply watch on the sidelines, seeing how someone could forget even the most basic tasks in life. "Nothing. Have you eaten?" The early to mid-stages of alzheimers are the worst kind because it is only a matter of time...

That, time.

The doctors stated it was an rare case of fast progression. Compared to the standard ten to twelve years, the progression stage is cut in half which makes the disease spread twice as faster than normal. Receiving disability benefits only ended up as a budgeted health insurance plan where it only pays for the doctor visits and medications and treatments. Everything else landed on her to oversee. 

Mother blinked a few times before her eyes lit up. "Oh, yes! I had some of your steamed vegetables. Those were good." By the overwhelming stench seeping from the refridgerator it is automatically assumed that her mother did consume something rancid.

For some strange reason mother eventually lost a sense of smell. Perhaps it is the medications provided, Sora is not entirely sure, but within the past month her mother is unable to detect the fouling scent of filthy clothes, dirty dishes nor any of the gutwrenching smells of garbage piled outside the backdoor.

Speaking of such... the dishes were piled uncomfortably high as the hamper seemed just as full, if not stuffed with clothes. After work Sora usually tended to the chores once she sent mother to bed.

"Mom, I think you should get some sleep. Can't read properly with tired eyes."

"Suppose you're right. Come help me, deary." And help Sora provided. While exhaustion leeched on her bones and tugged on her eyelids Sora pushed it away and continued walking her mother to the bedroom. "Make sure to take your medicine before you sleep." She laid the woman on the bed and handed the woman her prescription and a simple bottle of water. Once Sora made sure mother taken the medication she quickly left the room, mind preoccupied with more pressing matters.

Where are the bills? Her eyes looked around the kitchen until they landed on the table. 

Three... four... five.

Five bills.

With haste she takes a look at each bill and can feel her heart rattling in her chest. Fast, then slow, hard, and then light in these erratic movements.

There is a utility bill, the house note, phone bill, water and gas service bill, and finally something in regards to a state tax. And they are all due this month.

Sora never really understood the constant appearances of these things. How they pop up like miniature spores and spreading around the house as if a bundle of nasty mice were invading their home. Sadly, it is not like she can trash these obnoxious items as if they are common spam mail. Every bill must be paid in full, and it's not like her mother can really pay them anymore without trying to remember the difference between a regular bill and an AARP advertisement. It is only now that Sora learned how to properly pay these things without tearing out her already thinning hair.

So it's settled. She will have to take off Friday morning.

Her eyes glances at the dishes, and then suddenly her feet ached. Maybe it is a body reaction, Sora supposed, but she cannot allow them to sit another day or else she'll be inviting every pest and rodent in the county at her house for a massive sleepover. Guess she'll put it on her objectives to clean the house Friday morning as well...

In the meantime sleep was drugging her senses. Lulling her. Begging to hit the sheets and forget about everything: the internal and external pain, the endless hours and days blurring into this one cycle of hopelessness. Of nothing.

To dream. To dream about the days when her living father held her in his grasp and told her stories. Stories of the planets and its creatures, tales of her being the little crab traveling the shores in search of companionship and finally finding her own moondrop. And soon, Sora blows out each candle and treads towards her room. It wasn't intentional. Her feet just happened to take charge over her brain and made the ultimate decision. 

A simple flick of a switch and her bedroom was filled with light. It was dim light considering one of the lightbulbs above the ceiling had blown out about a couple weeks ago. It doesn't really bother her since there's nothing interesting in her room to see, anyways.

A decent size room, a twin sized bed, a small dresser, a full length mirror, a shelf, and some books. The flooring was also made of old wood, the rickety shrilling of wood echos throughout the room each time her foot presses against it. The familiar smell of aged sandlewood brings a soothing sense of tranquility and Sora starts to undress.

Normally she would take a quick shower before bed, but it seems like she will have to take one in the morning.

Thankfully her mother managed to remember to wash an extra set of her uniform. Although mother sometimes forget to dry them Sora can appreciate the days when she's too exhausted to wash her uniform straight after work.

Her eyes reverts to the full bodied mirror lying in the corner of the bedroom. From where she is angled Sora can analyze the overal growing shape of her body. And no, this is not in any way implying puberty.

Plain. How plain.

Now don't get it mistaken. Sora is not really insecure about her plainess at all. She states the fact as it is, she is a plain girl with a bit of an eating habit. With so much stress going on Sora happened to lean towards her job's freely paid breakfast meals to compensate for the lack of groceries sometimes. Of course, she buys enough to cook for her mother, and by cook Sora means heating up frozen dinners in the oven and pairing it with pickled veggies and rice. She tried brining home breakfast foods before only to find it untouched in fridge for days.

Oddly enough, out of all things mother does not like breakfast.

Within the last year Sora noticed her body finally taking its toll. Beforehand she was quite the petite individual. At least by what the Korean health standards considers an ideal weight for 110 pounds when she was only around 103 pounds. For the most part Sora was always a thin girl, perhaps a little thinner than most girls in school. But suppose it was after graduation and into college had she truly began to gain weight.

The stress of constantly achieving, figuring out what to major in, dropping classes, failing them... it is only so much to take in before it becomes too much to withstand. Furthermore, having to drop out of college to help her sick mother didn't make things any better.

Byun Sora used to have a thigh gap. Now? It is practically nonexistent. Her pillowy thighs were constantly smushed in-between each other, smothering and writhering until they burned and turned red, and how her once inverse triangular build soon became a subtle unriped pear. Skin stretched with thin streaks of red outlined around her hips, her thighs, her arms and (surprisingly) her s. Still... it does not negate the obvious factor that she is still plain. Only this time she is just a plain fat girl with problems now.

Is it shameful? Potentially, and she probably should feel ashamed too. How she allowed herself to consume far more calories than needed, as if needing to fulfill the time with something. If she look a little deeper into it then it's possible to assume she gained an eating disorder along the way. But still... it's life, and she can only adapt to it. Harsh or not.

Sora roams over her chubby body one final time. The flat dark brown hair falls over her shoulders and hangs right past her chest, unruly and somewhat untamed from the lack of caring for it. Her eyes, shaped traditionally narrow, were dark and devoid of any life. Skin inflicted with the common issues of acne and pimples and discolored spots freckled upon her arms. It is only then that Sora remembers those piercing umber eyes from earlier.

Despite the beauty of his face, it is the eyes that drew her in. Those eyes were vibrant, colorful and exciting with emotion far hotter than the intensity of molten lava. Those eyes were able to successfully craft the curves of his shaped cheekbones. So soft, so gentle...- wondered what his face would feel like?

Sora touches her own and cringed.

Hers felt rough and dry, scaling, definitely crackling underneath her brittle fingertips. Oh, and don't forget doughy. The irritating squish as her fingers presses down is enough to distort the fantasy.

But his...

She would be extremely careful. Very, very careful holding his face. A piece of delicate glass easy to break if mishandled. Sora would then hold this delicate piece of glass in the palms of her hands. She would look, eyes analyzing every detail and admire how the sculpter constructed such stunning artistic piece.

Her eyes widened.

That's right.

He is an artistic piece. She is a construction project.

They wouldn't mix. They couldn't, really...

Despite the way her mind reels whenever she sees him, Sora knows reality condemns fantasy. He would probably prefer someone more attractive like Haeun, or Jinae or Seulgi or even Soojin...

Or maybe he's actually gay. Who knows? It's not like she ever served him before. In fact, throughout the last couple of weeks observing him Sora had never received an opportunity to serve him nor any of his friends. It was not that she didn't want to, it is just that her coworkers would always strip away any chances before Sora could choose.

A sigh escapes her lips.

Sora then shrugs on a large t-shirt before sitting on the side of her bed. The springs underneath the mattress constantly pokes underneath her, but she pays no attention to it. Her hand digs underneath the cotton white pillow and pulls out a tiny yellow booklet and little pen.

When Sora opens the booklet a warming chill slides down her spine. Though she may be a plain girl by her very nature, there is one thing she held a form of interest in. Honestly, maybe it's a trait her father had passed onto her after he died, or maybe she prefers to keep the world of tale telling alive inside her empty heart. She's not sure.

For one who glances at The One with Umber Eyes is immediately cursed,

Brown and bold, rich in its earth tones and meanings spoken without a single word,

Hypnotized in an illusive trance, they lose all their free will.

The One with Umber Eyes is aware of this ability and uses it to his advantage,

Like the deepest seas lives Medusa, a sea witch who paralyze one into stone,

The One with Umber Eyes lives in many places, but preferrably lives alone.

One is warned, one should heed,

But many, including myself, disregards with ease,

Arrogant, cocky, and filled with human pride,

We all fall trapped under his stare with little to hide.

As for me I write this message as a warning,

Please, whatever happens, never gaze into his eyes.