tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35181268168496703192024-03-14T02:18:42.004+01:00Questing for FoodAnd feeding on fiction.<br>
A light meal indeed.Avohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15808959359850145003noreply@blogger.comBlogger118125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3518126816849670319.post-60223445881335543912020-05-03T17:24:00.001+02:002020-05-03T17:28:42.744+02:00Whizbang<br />
<span itemprop="text">Snapped cycles slipping into spiraling funnels,<br />Random atoms hopscotching through time and causality,<br />Vectorial hives, nested networks, e-motive tunnels,<br />The privates of industry have met for a cup of tea.</span><br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rfVKyaVYJmU/Xq7h_Se52HI/AAAAAAAADaQ/vwGNUq-L3LUupF6f-a-8fv57bevXgRcsQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/1blpricfqed82.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="899" data-original-width="1600" height="179" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rfVKyaVYJmU/Xq7h_Se52HI/AAAAAAAADaQ/vwGNUq-L3LUupF6f-a-8fv57bevXgRcsQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/1blpricfqed82.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Avohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15808959359850145003noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3518126816849670319.post-42572547893099659102020-05-03T17:21:00.000+02:002020-05-03T17:21:24.620+02:00The birth of hero?<br />
<span itemprop="text">Homemade bread. Flour, ewe's milk, salt, chemical leavening. <br />This
was the second batch, the edible one... The first batch turned out
unexpectedly. It had been in the oven for 30 minutes or so when I heard a
knocking sound. I opened the oven and out came this little dude, a
bread golem. It waved and walked out the door saying "See you around,
babe!"<br />I tried to reproduce the event, but the second batch turned out to be nothing but regular bread... Lunch!</span><br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oijfvospM_E/Xq7hE4o06FI/AAAAAAAADaI/puujgl5GszA3pyIpmHBDNy68PsLONpKzACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/19z35wp80iupe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="899" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oijfvospM_E/Xq7hE4o06FI/AAAAAAAADaI/puujgl5GszA3pyIpmHBDNy68PsLONpKzACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/19z35wp80iupe.jpg" width="179" /></a></div>
Avohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15808959359850145003noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3518126816849670319.post-37006637313041599522020-05-03T17:17:00.000+02:002020-05-03T17:17:08.370+02:00New year<br />
<span itemprop="text">Noise and empty movement, the world celebrates around me. </span><br />
<span itemprop="text">I am still and quiet save for the six dancers and the music we share.</span><br />
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Avohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15808959359850145003noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3518126816849670319.post-80619723348522878132020-05-03T17:13:00.000+02:002020-05-03T17:29:26.773+02:00Murder most foul<div class="main-content" style="text-align: center;">
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<span itemprop="text">The victim was found by a jogger at 7.30am, lying deceased, face up in a shallow plate of water.</span></div>
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<span itemprop="text"><span itemprop="text">Investigations have come to a head.<br />
The prime suspect will be brought in for cuddles and questioning.</span> </span></div>
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Avohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15808959359850145003noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3518126816849670319.post-63810551790132633372020-05-03T17:06:00.002+02:002020-05-03T17:29:40.729+02:00BAB<br />
<span itemprop="text">Our long journey has been completed.<br />The bridge trolls and heartbreaks were dodged.<br />The mountains crossed and challenges overcome.<br />The arrival is sweet.<br />But sweet as an ending can be, it is also just a beginning.<br />A deep breath before facing tomorrow.<br />A deep breath as I savor this moment in time.<br />The sun shines over the endlessly dancing ocean.</span><br />
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Avohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15808959359850145003noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3518126816849670319.post-85002675067317952952020-05-03T17:02:00.003+02:002020-05-03T17:29:51.302+02:00Cycling<br />
<span itemprop="text">Some woods aren't enchanted, but they are all inhabited by strange and wonderful beings. <br /><br />The
cycle of life and death plays out at a pace that is so slow as to be
alien to our disconnected lifestyles. The trees all strive for
sustenance from the sky and the earth, feed upon their fallen kin,
powerfully push out roots and limbs, and ultimately go about the chaos
of life with its infinite and infinitely interacting factors with quiet
grace and complete indifference. <br /><br />I had, for a brief subjective
moment in time, insinuated myself into this engine of life but now I
return to my world that is wonderful in its own right. <br />Time to go home. <br />A hot shower, a delicious dinner, and my own bed await... for now, that's magic enough for me.</span><br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SUrnR1rpk1Q/Xq7cPqEGpgI/AAAAAAAADZU/TrD8WLIatRIky_ciZX7AOo3x6RaWaDmHQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/19ql6ebni8s1u.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EsF3upw7Qk8/Xq7cPCu6qTI/AAAAAAAADZQ/E7osa7q-FaMjg9gC909JyXzDrS7fqrDcwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/19ql6eb2dd0xu.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="899" data-original-width="1600" height="177" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EsF3upw7Qk8/Xq7cPCu6qTI/AAAAAAAADZQ/E7osa7q-FaMjg9gC909JyXzDrS7fqrDcwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/19ql6eb2dd0xu.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Avohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15808959359850145003noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3518126816849670319.post-61157768575937907672020-05-03T16:53:00.000+02:002020-05-03T17:30:01.260+02:00Partage<br />
<span itemprop="text">How sweet the warm waters of the Hawaiian spring
shower felt after five hours of hiking. It lasted just long enough to be
refreshing without being chilling.<br />This log had dried faster than everything else and was the perfect place to drop my pack and have a snack.<br />As I unwrapped my dorayaki, I noticed an unexpected guest.<br />What did he want?<br />My Japanese pastry or was it a deeper mystery?</span><br />
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Avohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15808959359850145003noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3518126816849670319.post-5437428327691970332020-05-03T16:50:00.000+02:002020-05-03T17:30:17.048+02:00Fastening<br />
<span itemprop="text">They had both lived life fully, experiencing good times and bad times.<br />When finally they tied the knot, no half measures were taken.<br />The knot was <b>tied</b>.</span><br />
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZXpaQwyJ3Cw/Xq7Z8kWYoWI/AAAAAAAADY8/JIseB97g4mcJ_tLhP06bEDBjFhZaXEcogCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/19pfkp7i4a3j6.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZXpaQwyJ3Cw/Xq7Z8kWYoWI/AAAAAAAADY8/JIseB97g4mcJ_tLhP06bEDBjFhZaXEcogCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/19pfkp7i4a3j6.JPG" width="240" /></a><span itemprop="text"> </span>Avohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15808959359850145003noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3518126816849670319.post-4792049742915628752020-05-03T16:45:00.002+02:002020-05-03T17:30:29.921+02:00Away from Giza<br />
<span itemprop="text">Mere moments after sallying forth on my quest, I came upon a sphinx.<br />For
a moment I worried that it would give me an impossible riddle and then
devour me. Luckily, it was old and tired. It preferred to rest
undisturbed and so I safely went my way.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1msT2Za1408/Xq7Y4wnH7tI/AAAAAAAADY0/URn7obHCVX0hbZvDXyXnS83dfyDR3oNOACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/19oj6dgdhuvwy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1msT2Za1408/Xq7Y4wnH7tI/AAAAAAAADY0/URn7obHCVX0hbZvDXyXnS83dfyDR3oNOACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/19oj6dgdhuvwy.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sphinxmoth</td></tr>
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Avohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15808959359850145003noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3518126816849670319.post-66596888277975927112020-05-03T16:39:00.000+02:002020-05-03T17:30:42.268+02:00Tracking<br />
<span itemprop="text">Beginnings and endings.<br />The rainy station embodies both as I wait...<br />Change is part of life. The rail ties crossing the track look massive, immovable, and dirty.<br />It is time to move on.</span><br />
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Avohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15808959359850145003noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3518126816849670319.post-6197860240154241202014-05-24T01:00:00.000+02:002014-05-24T01:00:14.273+02:00The rise of the last moonchild<div dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-7277b2bc-2b41-9184-4d73-bee09d065ef7" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Long ago, when I was still young and joy flowed more freely through the world, the teller shared with me a story of a time before the fall. During the twilight of the age of Humanity when the decadence and decay was matched only by the brilliance of the technological achievements.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Indeed, it would seem that their nights were lit… Or so the teller told it, and I had no reason to doubt her. You see, there used to be magnificent creatures called moons that would fly through the night skies shedding silverlight in their wake. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Humanity was always in search of more power, and they had found a way to capture these moons in order to force them into service. It is a testament to their technical ingenuity that in the space of a few years they had managed to capture almost all of the free silverlight creatures. Thus the wild beautiful moons were tethered and in their slavery their lights grew dim, silverlight had turned to tarnished brass. Stationary lives ill suited their spirits which existed to be free. Slowly they began to die out, and without the silverlight, no new moons were born replace those that had been extinguished. I don’t know this for a fact, but it is my opinion that it was in large part the loss of hope that took such a toll on them. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">At any rate, the last free moons, facing imminent capture, entrusted their child,little more than a teardrop of silverlight, to the cold winter clouds and the bitter north winds… Neither of whom bore Humanity any friendship. The last free moonchild was secreted away to the far north. Back then, it was a frozen land so inhospitable that even Humanity had failed to find a cost effective way of exploiting it. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">There the moonchild lived for a while, far from its kin. It was not quite alone: under the tutelage of the cold northern elements, it grew abnormally strong. It learned the ways of light from a distant relative named Aurora, of whom naught but the name and a reputation for elusive beauty remains. Eventually it grew so strong that it could fly higher than any of its kind had ever done before. It grew so skilled in the ways of light that it could weave silverlight into tools. Finally, after many years, it was ready. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PPmfzLATwcs/U3_PjdsvG5I/AAAAAAAAB3g/gB1bi8-czhU/s1600/moonthieves.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PPmfzLATwcs/U3_PjdsvG5I/AAAAAAAAB3g/gB1bi8-czhU/s1600/moonthieves.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The moonchild coming to free the first of its brethren</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Upon its request, the harsh north winds flung it out over the frozen lands towards the domain of Humanity. It shaped sleek wings of silverlight and flew with the darkness around the world. Fueled by an anger alien to its kind, it undertook a mighty labor: it traveled everywhere at the speed of night, and wherever it went, it used a blade wrought of silverlight to slice away the shackles binding its kind. Finally, with every surviving moon freed in tow, the last moon child grew even brighter and stronger still. Faster and faster it flew, burning a silver white streak across sky, bright enough to be indifferent of night and day. A grand gesture directed towards Humanity, though I know not how they interpreted it. Finally, the train of moons had gathered enough speed and light to leave our world, and that is exactly what they did. The teller claimed that they went to live with the sun. Perhaps that is so. We can not deny that our nights are dark. </span></div>
<br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Hmm? What of Humanity, you ask? By my pointy ears and aching tail, that is a story for another day. Suffice it to say that you need not worry of them. They are merely the stuff of nightmares and legends now.</span>Avohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15808959359850145003noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3518126816849670319.post-66831233435180843862014-05-18T00:27:00.000+02:002014-05-18T11:22:50.053+02:00Respite<div class="Ct">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ON0s-DDioJg/U3feTqHJxII/AAAAAAAAB10/zwpn1nNCp94/s1600/LIGHT+OASIS.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ON0s-DDioJg/U3feTqHJxII/AAAAAAAAB10/zwpn1nNCp94/s1600/LIGHT+OASIS.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a> </div>
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Traversing the dark expanse was
never easy. </div>
<div class="Ct">
As a veteran, she knew the risks, but not even she could
have planned for what happened: everything that could have gone wrong
had. </div>
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Now, the vehicles, the cargo, and the client (by order of
importance) were most likely lost and never to be seen gain. </div>
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But none of
that mattered: after weeks on foot in the darkness, no sight is more
welcome than that of a light oasis.</div>
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Avohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15808959359850145003noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3518126816849670319.post-23653505003789118492014-05-15T00:34:00.000+02:002014-05-18T11:50:34.182+02:00Once upon a bleak midwinterOnce upon a bleak midwinter, driven by hunger and her dwindling stores, a young woman fetched up her bow and went out a hunting. Braving wind, frost, and snow she traveled far by vale and by wood in search of game.<br />
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Alas, skilled though she was, neither quarry nor spoor did she espy. After many long hours she found that she could go no further, for her travails had worked with the cold and hunger to rob her of her strength.<br />
<br />
Knowing full well the risk that she took, she settled against the trunk of a welcoming pine whose snowy boughs sheltered her from the worst of the chill wind. Wondering if ever again she would awaken, she resignedly succumbed to slumber. <br />
<br />
Sometime later, and somewhat to her surprise, she opened her eyes. Night had fallen and with it, a heavy blanket of snow and stillness. The young moon shed a weak light that seemed only to emphasize the darkness and the shadows of the trees, familiar by day suddenly made strange and uncanny.<br />
<br />
There was an utter and unnatural lack of sound. An eerie silence that weighed heavily upon her, she felt as if it might steal her breath away. Then, without her noticing the precise moment it occurred, the silence was gone. In its stead, growing from barely audible to increasingly loud, a thrumming sound or perhaps some sort of vibration. <br />
She grasped for something to liken the sound to, the only thing that came to mind was a hundred hives of harassed hornets. In truth, she had to admit to herself that it was unlike anything she had ever heard before.<br />
<br />
She shivered when she saw the light flittering through the trunks of the trees. Half-forgotten stories her grandmother would try to scare her with so very long ago resurfaced. The mercurial and terrible Pouhkas with their ghostly lanterns, the malevolent flying spirit flames called Onibis, the endless and destructive despair of the lost souls called Feu-follets… But as the sound got louder and the light approached, what she saw was unlike any of the creatures she had ever heard of.<br />
<br />
It looked like a flying sunflower whose bloom was made of bizarre green light.<br />
<br />
It grew nearer and nearer and finally alighted in front of her. The stem unfolded in some manner that defied her comprehension and became something like a twiggy torso and a pair of legs. Finally the intense thrumming sound was quelled, and she realized that what she had mistaken for a flower was the creature’s three shining arms spinning repeatedly around its neck under its head like some kind of wheel around an axle. The creature staring at her was about two-thirds as tall as she. While the proportions of its face were a bit strange, the expression there was definitely and most irritatingly human: the creature looked both smug and pleased with itself. <br />
<br />
Finally it spoke: “Heya dollface! I know I’m beautiful, but if ya keep staring like that ya gonna wear out mah good looks.”<br />
She couldn’t put her finger on it exactly, but something in the creature’s tone and attitude irritated her so much that she quite forgot about being frightened. Instead she looked at the creature levelly and said: “I was just wondering whether yea be beast or plant…” <br />
“Yeah, dat’s right! And youse can take dat to da bank.” it said, not answering the question. <br />
“…to decide if I should roast you or boil you.” She said grinning toothily and pointedly fingering the hilt of her hunting knife. <br />
“’Ay now, ‘ay now, doncha be talkin’ lahk that sweetie. Everyt’ing be irie doncha know?”<br />
The creature’s voice changed every time it spoke, but somehow that only contributed to its aggravating nature… She finally decided that whatever it was, it was going to be neither help nor hindrance, and that, jest set aside, it was inedible. “Ignore it and head home.” She told herself.<br />
“Hey lady, are yah gonna help me or what?” it said impatiently.<br />
“I don’t think so, I have to get home before I freeze to death.”<br />
“Thy mortal concerns are none of mine, know thee not that my kith reward well those who render us service?”<br />
She frowned, “Your kith? I still don’t know what you are… Tell you what, if you take me back to my Hogan, I’ll try to help you.”<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://navajopeople.org/images/hogan02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://navajopeople.org/images/hogan02.jpg" height="126" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Navajo hogan</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The creature twirled its arms noisily and expectorated: “Yo yo yo, I’m an effing fairy yo, and I’ll ball wit’ you. Ain’t never turned down a chance to take a skirt back to her crib yo.” <br />
She thought to herself about how meaningless a sentence with two negatives was and followed the creature as it noisily took flight. The loud humming noise of its spinning arms precluded communication and so there was no asking it how it knew where to go. “Besides,” she thought to herself, “…it probably wouldn’t answer me.” <br />
<br />
Shortly afterwards they were on her doorstep and she released a sigh of relief. The creature had been true to its word. But before she could enquire as to how she was to repay it, it belligerently said: “Now you lissen heah’ lil’ lady. I reckon’ it’s time you pay up cuz I’m plumb tired a waitin’.”<br />
“Alright, alright. What is it you want?” she sighed.<br />
“Well, mate. It be right obvious, innit? Oi’m a genius, ahn’t I? But I cahn hahdly hea’ ma’self think while ah’m flying.”<br />
For such a strange creature, it has a remarkably mundane problem, she mused. She pushed past her door and returned but a moment later holding a small flask.<br />
“Hold still while I put this on your neck, it should solve your problem.”<br />
The creature reluctantly complied and took the flask from her when she was done.<br />
“Hide not thy poison with such sugar’d words. Thy unction smells to the heavens and shall surely make me the friend of maggots.” And having said that, it gave its arms a tentative spin and was astounded by the quietness of its flight. “Oh true apothecary! Thy drugs are quick, thus with a daub I fly! Though thou hast served me well, glad am I to be shut of you. Before I take my leave, take thee this egg of mine and plant it within the earth before dawn. In two days’ time thy reward will be beyond measure.”<br />
And so it quietly flew away into the forest, taking with it her flask of olive oil.<br />
<br />
Following the creature’s instructions she buried its egg, and two days later a giant thing had grown up, towering over her home. And so she set about discovering how to use it, but that is another story.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-y_re9jtxa9c/U3PsK3kAGjI/AAAAAAAABy4/Zlk-WB04TPM/s1600/egg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-y_re9jtxa9c/U3PsK3kAGjI/AAAAAAAABy4/Zlk-WB04TPM/s1600/egg.jpg" height="400" width="297" /></a></div>
Avohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15808959359850145003noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3518126816849670319.post-83436710330166038002012-09-28T17:20:00.000+02:002014-05-18T11:51:37.269+02:00Gwen - Passing through Paris<div class="im">
Often, when Americans think of Paris they imagine a Hemingway flavored, Woody Allen directed figment that is loosely set in the twenties with highlights and overtones taken straight from pop culture and Disney. The interesting thing is that somehow, regardless of the reality of what lies before them, many American tourists come away from their trips with the impression that their delusion is true.</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-c4gkBP-tv-4/UGW-HbJR-MI/AAAAAAAAA4k/vYV_0m_9Wks/s1600/passing+paris.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-c4gkBP-tv-4/UGW-HbJR-MI/AAAAAAAAA4k/vYV_0m_9Wks/s400/passing+paris.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a>
Something about Gwen’s personality afforded her her own view of Paris. Tall dirty gray Haussmann buildings with their decaying splendor hobnobbing with faceless gray post war buildings. Clusters of feral young men with predatory eyes. Pairs of painstakingly dressed women, rail thin and tiny. The smell of expensive perfumes and human waste.<br />
Perhaps at heart not that different from any other big city, but with a French touch.<br />
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People told her she was crazy when she announced she was breaking up with her fiancée, and just shook their heads when she decided to try and sell her house and go traveling. And yet, somehow here she is in Paris flipping burgers and steak-frites in a brasserie. Watching people take the top bun off of their burgers and eat the rest with a knife and fork, then clean their plates with the top bun, or worse yet leave it in their dishes. </div>
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Yeah, some Parisians really do that.<br />
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She had come to France hoping to find a new life, hoping for food that would inspire her, but after several months she was coming to the conclusion that the French food scene wasn’t for her. While good French food undeniably exists, it seemed to her to be an elitist thing rife with snobbery. “Good food should be about good taste, not how much money you have.”<br />
<br />
Over all, Gwen was disappointed. Paris was a place for people with money. The main way of spending time there seemed to be related with either the spending, or the acquisition of money… But her tastes were, if not simple, frugal. She spent what free time she had walking around Paris looking for a spark, something to set her soul alight. Her expenses were limited to food, the tiny room she was renting, and an occasional used book from Shakespeare and co. on the rive gauche. In a sense it was an ideal, but not hers. Her plan was to leave as soon as she had enough money put away for a ticket.</div>
<br />
This wasn't the place she was looking for.<br />
<br />Avohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15808959359850145003noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3518126816849670319.post-13204351906469863002012-09-06T04:23:00.000+02:002014-05-18T11:56:47.639+02:00Gwen - Zucchini bread zeitgeist<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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This is my kitchen. It isn't spectacular and it doesn’t
have all the latest gadgets or designer furniture. It is neither pretty nor fashionable, but it is functional and it is mine. </div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
It’s my space in which he is sitting
and talking at me, yet again, further illustrating the completely one-dimensional relationship he maintains with the world instead of interacting with it fully. I’m there peeling my zucchinis and I
know that he doesn’t realize that it is over. </div>
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I don’t need drama. I don’t need an argument. I don’t
need to lay blame. </div>
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I just need to be alone in my kitchen again.</div>
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Well, that could have gone better... but then again, it could have gone
worse. </div>
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"They" say all kinds of stupid things, for instance, they say that going down is the best part of roller
coasters... but let’s face it, two years of free-falling downhill isn't fun, it's just tiring. I like the parts where you ramp up, where you can enjoy the view, and savor the
moment. </div>
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But then, I’m not really into roller coasters… so, what
am I talking about?</div>
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<br /></div>
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It’s not like he was bad guy. I wouldn’t have stayed with
him as long as I did if he had been. </div>
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Although it felt like hours, “the talk” only lasted thirty minutes… Not so bad, nothing got
broken, though he did throw a framed picture at me –missed by me by a mile- which I caught before it smashed against the wall. He got a bit carried away. He said some things that may
have been true and some that I know were not. He said I was cold, and while it’s
true that that whole scene left me cold, I’m pretty sure he meant to say
frigid, and he meant for it to hurt me. But the truth is, although we may have
connected at one point in time, eventually, when I looked at him all I saw was dust
in the air. Little flying particles you can’t normally see that are brought to
life by light. Pretty enough, in their own way, but ultimately immaterial. I’m
not sure when I discovered that there wasn’t anything left behind it. </div>
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Maybe later I’ll think back fondly to the good times. But
I wonder if maybe they’ve all been so diluted that they have ceased to exist for all
practical purposes. Either way, although I may be kidding myself, I don’t think
it matters.</div>
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For now, I’m happy to reclaim my space...<br />
and I’m going to
bake some Zucchini bread.<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3o2Up-JsDQU/UEgHbub3BtI/AAAAAAAAA24/VeVlEna9lJk/s1600/zucchinibread.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3o2Up-JsDQU/UEgHbub3BtI/AAAAAAAAA24/VeVlEna9lJk/s400/zucchinibread.jpg" height="136" width="400" /></a></div>
Avohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15808959359850145003noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3518126816849670319.post-8189692308590826942012-09-02T09:02:00.001+02:002014-05-18T11:55:24.934+02:00Found in my inbox one morning<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Hello my friend, thank you for taking the time to read
this important message. The situation is grave indeed and I’m not sure how to
best express it so that you can understand it. I’ll try by starting sometime
after the beginning…</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Long, long ago, when I was a mere child, I was told
that 209 years from now a giant colony ship would leave Earth for Mars carrying
terraforming technology and a crew of colonists that were to be the last
hope of survival for your -our, I suppose,- flawed race… </div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Something happened. Perhaps navigation calculations had
been made in metric for hardware calibrated to antiquated imperial
measurements… I wasn’t told the specifics, only that it was human error.
Regardless, the ship lost its mind and took a wrong turn at about five past
moon o’clock. </div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eKFvVpvb-sg/UD50MMVDvLI/AAAAAAAAA2U/q0hNsAJ-UMg/s1600/5+past+moon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eKFvVpvb-sg/UD50MMVDvLI/AAAAAAAAA2U/q0hNsAJ-UMg/s320/5+past+moon.jpg" height="224" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wrong turn at about 5 past moon o'clock</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
This catastrophe caused the ship’s soundness
to fail piecemeal, killing thousands on-board. Only a handful of colonists
survived the initial failures, and discord swiftly wended her way into their
hearts. They argued violently as to what the next course of action should be.
The majority entered escape vehicles and deserted the ship. I cannot say where
their path took them, no doubt to oblivion, as it eventually does for us all-
even me… </div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
However, one of the ship’s physicians (my father) and an
engineer (my mother) decided to see the ship through. By some cosmic accident,
the ship’s wrong turn had sent it hurtling into the past… I do not know by what
means my parents navigated the ship back to earth, or when they discovered that
they had been flung into the past… I do know that then, they too deserted the ship in
an escape vessel as it flew by Earth on a course headed for the sun. </div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I was born 6 months later in the year of their lord 1081…
My parents gave me the best education they could in order to prepare me for the
challenges I was to face throughout my life, and they also armed me with a book
wherein they had scribed as much foreknowledge as they could recollect. Their idea was that my descendants and I would prevent humanity from committing the terrible
mistakes and grave errors in this, its second chance - at least from my parents’
perspective. </div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
However, my father soon discovered that our journey through time
had rendered us all incapable of procreating… Apparently I had been conceived
before our arrival. Their conclusion was to initiate carefully selected
individuals into our secret and to form a cabal that would shape history, but
that went quickly awry and their disciples killed them in their sleep when I
was 13. It was the year 1094… I fled, taking with me our book of secrets. The
disciples went on to form the basis of many of the secret organizations that covertly
control the Earth’s governments.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
My parent’s geas was upon me and I decided to fulfill
their dream as best as I could. I spent the next year inveigling myself into
the court of the Byzantine Emperor Alexius I. And in short, I played a key role
in the first crusades… sometimes with Seljuk Turks, sometimes with the
Christians… as need dictated. </div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Sometime late in the year 1111, I was at the siege of Tyre
under the banner of Zahir ad-Din Toghtekin. It was there that I was contacted
by a very old man going by the name of Alhazred. He claimed to be over 400
years old, and certainly looked it. He gave me an original copy of a book
called Al Azif with a Greek translation by Theodorus Philetas… Why the man gave
it to me, I do not know, he would only say that he had been ordered to do so.
He left without a trace after completing his task. Within that book lay
secrets that could shatter mortal minds, but somehow I retained a marginal
grasp on my sanity and found the secret to eternal life… </div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LjhpxRfJFoo/UD51SuVWE2I/AAAAAAAAA2k/DizFQ2std1Y/s1600/225px-Necronomicon_prop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LjhpxRfJFoo/UD51SuVWE2I/AAAAAAAAA2k/DizFQ2std1Y/s200/225px-Necronomicon_prop.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Al Azif</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
What I suffered to achieve this I will not say lest
someone else should attempt it and unleash the dark beings with whom one must
contract… Let us just say that death became a past concern for me, and though I
can no longer die, pain has since become my constant companion.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I have led my cursed existence through history striving to
thwart the power hungry machinations of the disciples, thwarting the vile
prophecies from Alhazred’s book, and trying to cure the ills listed in my
parents’ book… I have failed many a time and things were made worse than before,
but I have also known a handful of modest successes; however, we still seem to
be headed towards a future where my parents’ ship departs… This brings me to
you, my friend. </div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Your donation triggered a chain of events that help move
things in the right direction. What donation, you ask? Oh that’s right, that
hasn’t happened yet. Please donate 20$ to the following paypal account <b>(redacted)</b>,
for the good of mankind. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KF4st1Ew_u8/UD50tqvIYII/AAAAAAAAA2c/1ZQ5Ax1z6nQ/s1600/bag_of_money.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KF4st1Ew_u8/UD50tqvIYII/AAAAAAAAA2c/1ZQ5Ax1z6nQ/s200/bag_of_money.png" height="200" width="155" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Thank you for helping me to save planet Earth.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Yours gratefully,</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
X.</div>
Avohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15808959359850145003noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3518126816849670319.post-21022001221784758862012-08-28T07:28:00.000+02:002014-05-18T11:57:19.175+02:00Lions<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">-Preamble-</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">BTW, I forgot to mention, I'd like to thank Theresa Milstein (<a href="http://theresamilstein.blogspot.com/">check out her blog</a>) and <a href="http://khnoumdanslaboue.blogspot.fr/">Khnoum</a> for their support, Okurokami may never have gotten done if it weren't for their interest.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Now I can finally post other stories. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Some of you may recognize this story as taking place in <a href="http://www.terrypratchett.co.uk/">Terry Pratchett'</a>s Discworld, however, some things might strike you as unusual. That would be because it is actually set in the universe of the <a href="http://discworld.starturtle.net/lpc/">Discworld MUD</a>. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">What are MUDs? Hmm... Without getting technical, MUDs are the ancestors of MMORPGs. Essentially, it's a text based game in which the players create a character and control them through text based commands as they explore the world, bake pies, slay creatures, learn musical instruments and whatever else the developers have thought of. TDTTOE. ; j
<span id="goog_1062031732"></span><span id="goog_1062031733"></span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">I've been mudding for a long time, and the only MUD I ever play at all anymore is the DW mud. I wrote a couple of stories for one of the player run in-game newspapers (the AM-Daily, the best newspaper on the disc!), and of course it is rife with DWmud jokes and references. For instance, about bows being useless: you can buy them in the game but they haven't been coded in yet so they don't do anything </span><span style="font-size: x-small;">(as far as I know)</span><span style="font-size: x-small;"> except let you look cool when people take a gander at your visible equipment. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">I'm hoping it might still be entertaining to read, so here it is.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Now for the story.</span></div>
--------------------------------- <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SW78HM-BwyE/UDxF9tk99cI/AAAAAAAAA0w/DTE1lpgXbrM/s1600/desert-lion.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SW78HM-BwyE/UDxF9tk99cI/AAAAAAAAA0w/DTE1lpgXbrM/s320/desert-lion.jpg" height="195" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A lion... And sand. The stuff of nightmares.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I've been wandering in this desert for years, maybe even
weeks! It's been nothing but lions! Skinny lions, fat lions, angry lions, lion
cubs, prides of lions (see one pride, you've seen them all, they practically
all the shame)... and they all fit in the generic category of hungry lions, at
least until they meet me... You see, afterwards, they all permanently fall into
the category of 'lions-that-were'.<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Ok, I'm exaggerating, it hasn't just been lions: there
have also been vultures, scorpions, and enough sand that I won't even be able
to hear the word sandwich without shivering in disgust. Come to think of it, I
think I might even have fought a desert wolf, or coyote or something last
week... but it might have been a lion in disguise. My mind feels fuzzy, or
perhaps sandy? I shouldn't be surprised, sand seems to be getting in everywhere
else, why would my mind be any different?</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Or maybe the sun is getting to me. I'm thirsty and banged
up pretty bad, and I'm out of tea... For now, there are no lions in sight, they
must be hiding under some dunes or something... I think I'll sit down a bit...
and rest... I wonder if I'm dying?</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Father told me I'd end up like this -it was more of a
shout really, and it was cut off by the sound of me slamming the door hard
enough to crack it as I left. Yes indeed, he told me I'd come to this end. Of
course, he didn't specifically say anything about lions, it was more of a
nonspecific lion-free forecasting of a sordid ending.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
It all started with the town dance… We had fun, laughed,
and danced together the entire evening. We did the same thing at the next dance
as well, and the one after that. We started trying to find opportunities to see
each other. It wasn't easy considering how far apart we lived from each other.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-H1H50YLEMzo/UDxIrKO6dQI/AAAAAAAAA1E/tvp9lp6p16Q/s1600/carriage+brief.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-H1H50YLEMzo/UDxIrKO6dQI/AAAAAAAAA1E/tvp9lp6p16Q/s400/carriage+brief.gif" height="225" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just a small segment of the carriage routes in the mud, full map is <a href="http://maps.gothmudders.com/more/carriage.gif">here</a> </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Ye gods, it all sounds so banal in retrospect.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
My father was, still is as far I know, a hunter and we
lived in Slice. We weren't poverty-stricken but we had nothing to spare
either.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
My dance partner claimed to come from "somewhere in
the Sto Plains" but forgot to tell me that he was the offspring of some
very minor baron in Sto Helit. Well, when his parents heard about our budding
romance they quickly decreed that I wasn't good enough for him.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Pah... I'd spit if I had any moisture to spare.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Their title didn't change the fact of what they are:
pretentious merchants, cabbage peddlers. What else is there in the Sto plains? Of
course I only discovered all of this later...</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DGxNiABLPAo/UDxJ2zcoK-I/AAAAAAAAA1M/pwikmgTzK0k/s1600/cabbage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DGxNiABLPAo/UDxJ2zcoK-I/AAAAAAAAA1M/pwikmgTzK0k/s200/cabbage.jpg" height="142" width="200" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
It was a nice dream. We were going to run away to
Ankh-Morpork and make it big setting up a business importing Lancre furs. This
was going to be facilitated by the fact that I knew a good number of Hunters in
Lancre through my father. Yeah well, that was a bust. When he didn't show up at
the appointed time and place, I figured he had chickened out. Still, I wanted
to make sure, so I paid him an unexpected little visit.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
In retrospect, I wonder why I was so surprised at finding
him in the arms of a pasty faced milk-maid cow-woman. I was introducing his
rear end to my foot and giving him a free lesson in good manners when he had to
gall to draw his puny “made in” Ankh-Morpork foil on me. Well that tore it, I
drew my longsword, good Ogg-forged steel of course, and made confetti out of
his toy sword and his fancy pants dancing moves. Didn't hurt him -much- but the
cow woman was screaming her over-sized lungs off and I just knew the watch
would turn up shortly. So I got one last good kick in on the good-looking
foppish sap who had previously pretended to have been my paramour and made a
discrete exit.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Well, from then on I took to the adventurer's life. I
sold my useless bow in a general store, and hit the road. I met a few good
people, a bunch of bad folk, and some people that were out of this world.
Overall it wasn't an experience I enjoyed, in fact I had decided to
forget...<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>which brings me to my current
predicament: I got lost looking for the Klatchian foreign legion.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I don't remember when I ate last, and that's probably a
good thing since it was probably raw lion. I'm wearing a lion pelt I found next
to a dead hattite priest. All of my original clothes and armor have either <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>broken or fallen apart. My sword is so notched
it feels more like a blunt instrument than a blade. In fact, every now and then,
I get the distinct impression that I've gotten better at wielding blunt
weapons. Maybe that's the heat delirium talking... Speaking of delirium... Is
that a horse I hear?</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Impossible...</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Is that a... What is that?</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
A leopard print frog on the back of a horse? </div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
A mirage, surely…</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
No, I can see it a bit clearer now, and I wish I didn't.
It's a severely acned potbellied gangly young man wearing a leopard skin over his shoulders, a
leopard skin loincloth, and a leopard print push up bra (no comment). For lack
of a better word he can only be described as riding the horse... Though that is
stretching the word. He seems to be barely hanging on and in grave danger of
biting his tongue off.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Whoops, there he goes in a flying tangle of leopard clad
stick-like limbs.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I should knock him out and take his horse before he spots
me... Drat too late.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He picks himself up with surprising dignity considering
his ludicrous appearance.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
"Greetings, fellow barbarian! I am Deep Lover,
mighty warrior." he said with an air of shaky self-importance.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Deep Lover? Seriously?</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
My doubts must have been obvious because he then admitted
rather bashfully:</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
"Ok, ok... my name is Repo... Repo Leved. I just say
I'm Deep Lover 'cuz a dwarf lothario told me it would help seductionate ladies
of your gender, beggin' your pardon miss. At any rate it works as goodly as
this here horse I'm testing... Pfeh. Now where did I put that scroll..."
he trailed off into mumbling as he started digging around in a leopard print
satchel.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
What a curious character... But this could be my ticket
out!</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
"You know, I'm actually better at this magicking
stuff than at barbraining, as I call it. Haha... Course pa would never have me
going off to learn it proper: I had to become a barbarian, just like him and
his pappy before him... Oh well. Would you like to come<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>back with me to the winter camp? But where
did I... It's simple really... All I need..." once again he trailed off
into incoherence.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Whoever he is, he doesn't seem interested in my answer.
He is reading from a scroll whilst holding a golden ring, capering, and moving
his hands in a pattern that looks suspiciously like the Macarena. A flimsy
looking plywood door pops into existence after he traces a rectangle in the air
with his finger... A magical portal to somewhere else. I hope.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I am ready...</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Or maybe I'm not.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I don't know what's coming but I'm looking forward to
finding out.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fND9Rij49bY/UDxUHZ-1qSI/AAAAAAAAA1g/5Yh037YY0I8/s1600/door.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fND9Rij49bY/UDxUHZ-1qSI/AAAAAAAAA1g/5Yh037YY0I8/s320/door.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
</div>
Avohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15808959359850145003noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3518126816849670319.post-25183302910599962532012-08-23T14:14:00.000+02:002020-04-23T09:57:01.622+02:00Okurokami - Postscript<br />
I hope you derive some entertainment from this very belated conclusion.<br />
<br />
Happy reading.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-U9y-bIq0VzI/UDYdQfnZs9I/AAAAAAAAAy0/9PJ_hjcTTiY/s1600/Hokusai+-+watching+the+mountain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="281" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-U9y-bIq0VzI/UDYdQfnZs9I/AAAAAAAAAy0/9PJ_hjcTTiY/s400/Hokusai+-+watching+the+mountain.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Katsushika Hokusai (1760, 1849) <br />
"Boy watching the mount Fuji"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />Avohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15808959359850145003noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3518126816849670319.post-11790620531202925152012-08-23T07:37:00.000+02:002014-05-18T11:58:44.781+02:00Okurokami - part 18 (end)<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">The old man with the strange silver hair
looked at her sadly and said, “That’s quite a story and I think you haven’t
quite finished telling it. But before you go on, here have some chichi dango.” As
he handed her a plate with the sweet treats on top of it.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-w3xYGgVPyyc/UDW8kKp_nfI/AAAAAAAAAyU/elnUrEOLmnk/s1600/IMG_2930.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-w3xYGgVPyyc/UDW8kKp_nfI/AAAAAAAAAyU/elnUrEOLmnk/s200/IMG_2930.JPG" height="150" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chichi Dango: a sweet confection made of <br />
glutinous rice flour and coconut milk. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">She bit into one and smiled, “These are
great. Ingen would have loved them too.” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">The old man’s ears perked up. “Speaking
of him, did he die? And what did Magunojo-san ask of you?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Takeko grinned wryly, “That lunatic? Of
course not, it turned out that Teruro’s last attack did two things: one, it cut across Ingen's back leaving a giant scar, and two, it shattered Ingen’s sword. Last I
heard, he donated most of the gold to the temple where he stayed until he had recovered from his wounds, and afterwards he went traveling on a quest to find a legendary
sword as a replacement for his. I'm sure he's getting into whatever trouble he can find along
the way.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Takeko finished off the last of the
dango before continuing. “As for Teruro’s last request, well… Let’s just say that
a high ranking official had little package next to his bed when he woke up a
few days ago. One broken sword and one head. Had I not fulfilled my promise to finish his mission for him, I'm sure he would have come back from the dead to do it…” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Takeko shrugged. “And there you have it, that’s the whole tale.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">The silver haired man nodded, “So it is…
So it is. I suppose it’s time we should get going. Are you coming?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Takeko laughed because finally she
understood what was so strange about the man, finally she understood many things.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">---</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">The morning sun was well up in the sky.
Cicadas had begun to sing. No one saw the two foxes leave the burnt out husk of a wayside
eatery. One mature silver-furred fox, and one small vixen whose fur was like a
mirror of night. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">The two slipped away into the tangle of
trees.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kN1UJCoU3uk/UDW-d60VN6I/AAAAAAAAAyc/eCcFmFwbpcY/s1600/black+fox.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kN1UJCoU3uk/UDW-d60VN6I/AAAAAAAAAyc/eCcFmFwbpcY/s200/black+fox.jpg" height="147" width="200" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--8kC752WOk8/UDW-f9ZGSdI/AAAAAAAAAyk/-GMffEhvSTY/s1600/silver+fox.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--8kC752WOk8/UDW-f9ZGSdI/AAAAAAAAAyk/-GMffEhvSTY/s320/silver+fox.jpg" height="213" style="cursor: move;" width="320" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
Avohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15808959359850145003noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3518126816849670319.post-50100572553130100922012-08-23T07:36:00.000+02:002014-05-18T12:01:32.183+02:00Okurokami - part 17<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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A frozen pall of ashen clouds robbed the world of its
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As she surveyed the small clearing of the cave mouth, the
blackened remains of a recent fire, and the ripped corpse… Takeko wondered if
they had crossed the river Sanzu and had wandered into the realm of the dead where neither she nor the two living
men by her side belonged. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Ingen approached the body and poked it,
"Huh, this guy is still alive! Kinda..."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">"In that case I shall interrogate
him." Teruro said with a frown.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">"You do that... While you do, I'm a
gonna have myself a look around." </span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gP5hRgu0Kwg/UDWiLAsfmrI/AAAAAAAAAxs/cKSVvvbFRMY/s1600/hiuchi+ishii.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gP5hRgu0Kwg/UDWiLAsfmrI/AAAAAAAAAxs/cKSVvvbFRMY/s200/hiuchi+ishii.jpg" height="165" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Japanese flint and striker</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> Takeko watched Ingen relight the fire
using his hiuchi ishii, grab a brand from
the fire and head into the cave. Meanwhile Teruro set about interrogating the
body. This much she had already seen. A sad tale quickly coming to its
conclusion, one that ultimately had little meaning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a brief dispassionate affair, a few
short pointed questions, a flashing blade punctuated with a decapitated body. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Before the flash, the last whispered venomous
words of the dead man, "Cur of your corrupt Tokugawa masters, at least I
die having tried to fix our rotten world." </span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Teruro's movements were marked with
clear respect as he bound the head in the cloth he had brought for that
purpose. Though many would qualify the mystic's actions as immoral, Teruro
understood the amoral nature of duty, indeed he had lived his entire life
walking two overlapping paths, that of duty and that of the blade, neither of
which ascribed to a standard definition of morality.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">He frowned as he watched Ingen saunter
out from the cave, a small weighty-looking cloth bundle tied to his scabbard
that was brazenly slung over his shoulder.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Ingen chuckled "Wow, you need not frown
so, oldster." </span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">The frown deepened "I see you lost
your backwaters accent in that cave."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">With a shrug and grin Ingen replied
"All things have their time."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">"Indeed they do, and now is the
time you will answer my questions. Who are you and what is that you are
carrying?"</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">The grin widened "Ohoho, is this an
interrogation? I reckon I'll be more fun than your previous subject." He
said pointing to the wrapped head that Teruro had carefully put down out of the
way.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">"Answer the question."
Teruro's body had subtly shifted its position and his hands seemed to casually
rest near his belt, a subtle but certain threat. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Somehow, Ingen's posture seemed to
become even more relaxed, he laughed and pulled the small bundle of the end of
his scabbard. He seemed to amuse himself by tossing the bundle up and down in
left hand like a child's ball. "Well now... Me? I'm nobody."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">He grinned and dropped the bundle in the grass by his feet, "And what was the other question?" </span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Takeko observed the two men, resignation
and weariness stamped across her face. She knew that the events that had passed
had all led inevitably to this point in time, she had seen it. She also knew
that the outcome was open. She knew that Teruro’s mission was twofold: recover
the stolen gold if possible, and the mystic’s head at all costs. Ingen’s
motivation however was less clear, overtly he seemed motivated by greed, yet even
his greed was ambiguous, seemingly affected. Ultimately, she wondered if he might
not merely be in search of entertainment. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eg8Um9Sf50E/UDWjXqsRbwI/AAAAAAAAAx0/ylyOMc_k-aA/s1600/jodan1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eg8Um9Sf50E/UDWjXqsRbwI/AAAAAAAAAx0/ylyOMc_k-aA/s200/jodan1.jpg" height="200" width="135" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jodan stance</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Teruro adopted the jodan
(ascending/high) stance. His form was flawless. His fighting was that of a
veteran craftsman, practiced to the point where it has become more than a
second nature, to the point where it has become a part of his true nature. Not
a movement wasted, nothing superfluous, an illustration of mastery.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Ingen’s stance, on the other hand, was unlike
anything Teruro had seen before. He wouldn’t stand still he kept moving, and it
looked almost as if he weren’t ready for combat, as if he just happened to be
holding a sword, but for no specific purpose. It seemed sloppy to Teruro. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Although Ingen had taken care never to
reveal the true form of his fighting style Takeko had already seen it, she knew
that his fighting was instinctive and constantly changing, a reflection of his
tremendous innate talent and exceptional physical abilities, his fighting was
mercurial and ever shifting, he fought like the sea, unpredictable, wild and beautiful…
a counter-point to Teruro’s jodan stance, which was an ideal of formal kenjutsu
(sword fighting) made manifest, massive power that is quiescent before exploding
into action, the stately power of a volcano with all of eruptive force.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Most duels end in a matter of seconds, but
sometimes, when two fighters who have both reached the highest levels meet, the
resultant battle is matched only by the superlative reality of epic tales,
indeed such battles are the fodder from which such tales are derived.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Back and forth the battle went, the
lives of both combatants crystallized in a single blazing point in time, and
for them they existed out of time… But finally, both bloodied, battered, and exhausted,
they paused. Abruptly the explosive and violent tension between the two men
vanished, or perhaps merely transformed into something completely different. Ingen
laughed brightly as he sheathed his blade.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">“Partner, I gotta hand it to ya, this is
everything I was hoping it would be. But I reckon it’s over. You can barely
stand anymore.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">“Hmph… Neither can you. Come at me, and let’s
finish this.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">“Well, I reckon I could do that… Or…” As
he talked he had been positioning himself so that, abruptly his hand flashed
down and he grabbed the bundle of gold at his feet. With a quick chuckle he
bowed mockingly and made to run away. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">But Teruro was ready, he dashed forward
and sprang high in the air. His sword flashed and the sound of metal against metal
rang in the clearing. Ingen’s blood splashed on the grass. A shiny piece of
metal sprang up above them, spinning and catching the first glimmers of sunrise and looking strangely like a star, falling to earth next to Teruro’s feet. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Ingen roared in pain, but escaped
nonetheless and vanished into the shade of the trees. Terruro stood alone in
the clearing, still holding his now broken sword at the ready. Finally, with
obvious difficulty, he picked up the broken piece of his sword and put both
halves in his scabbard. Although Teruro was bleeding from several grievous
wounds and his face was pale and drawn, he walked slowly and straight backed,
to the edge of the clearing where Takeko stood. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">“I die as I have lived, yet I cannot die
in peace unless...” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>Takeko
sighed softly and answered the unasked question, “Of course.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Teruro smiled wearily, “That is good, thank
you.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Finally, he sat down against the trunk
of a tree and seemed to just fall asleep.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Years later wild white lilies would grow
there, where Takeko buried the old warrior’s at the foot of the tree where he slept
the final sleep. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EnHnWbaaNnc/UDWm2ZSMg_I/AAAAAAAAAyE/PoVdLNjtEEY/s1600/shira+yuri.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EnHnWbaaNnc/UDWm2ZSMg_I/AAAAAAAAAyE/PoVdLNjtEEY/s200/shira+yuri.jpg" height="200" width="151" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
Avohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15808959359850145003noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3518126816849670319.post-58949187258357506842012-08-23T07:35:00.001+02:002014-05-18T12:02:30.341+02:00Okurokami - part 16<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">In the twilight of dawn in which two
opposite worlds meet, the sparse woods lay quiet as if still uncertain whether
to begin a new day or not. The dew-pearled grass and leaves have yet to come
into their full colors with the half light of the early morning, and yet they
are ripe with promise. Amongst them, a dirt road, hardly more than a path,
makes it way down from a hill. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Takeko, travelling alone, crests the
hill and spies a small wayside eatery and tea house at the bottom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was surprised to see that their Noren was
already out, but not one to question a good thing she made her way down the
path to the promise of a warm breakfast.</span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rf1RTVMDyu8/UDWdTtR-imI/AAAAAAAAAxU/EsK4WvhFKE0/s1600/noren.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rf1RTVMDyu8/UDWdTtR-imI/AAAAAAAAAxU/EsK4WvhFKE0/s200/noren.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A noren: curtain set above the entry of shops and restaurants, often advertising their trade</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">"Hello young lady." The old
man said as he stepped through entrance… As she returned his greeting, she
wondered what it was about him that struck her. Perhaps it was the thick pony
tie the man had tied his strange silver hair in? Or the brightness of the eyes
in his age-lined face? </span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">"You look like you need a rest,
young miss. Have a seat and I'll get you some food and some tea."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">"Uhm… Thank you." Takeko said
as she sat down on the wooden bench in front of the small wooden building. No
sooner had she taken the weight of her feet that the old man reappeared with
tray laden with a large bowl of noodles and two cups of tea.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">"That was quick!" She said as
she took the tray from him. She eyeballed the noodles suspiciously, they had to
be have been ready in advance, which meant they were yesterday's noodles… In
other words they had to be soggy, also there was a pair of strange brown spongy
looking squares on top. At any rate, it smelled delicious and was piping hot,
judging from the steam wafting up from the bowl. She shrugged picked up her
chopsticks, said "Itadakimasu" and experimentally slurped some
noodles from clear soup. She paused for moment, chewed, and was amazed to find
that the udon were perfect! They had that springy bounce that characterizes
good noodles, and they had absorbed some of the rich yet subtle flavors from
the clear broth. She then took a bite from one of the spongy squares. Her eyes
widened as the rich sweet fried tofu flavor exploded into mouth. The old man
chuckled as he sat down on the other bench and stretched his legs, "I knew <i>you</i> would like it."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">"I do, it's delicious! What do you
call this dish?" </span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">"It's called kitsune-udon." He
said giving her a wink. "Judging from the way you're going at it, you must
not have had a good meal in a while… have you been travelling long?"</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">"Mphhu mphuu slrrrp." Takeko
answered as she finished off her bowl. "Phouaaah, that was delicious. Yes,
I have been travelling for a while, but it's a long story."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">"Well, tell you what… it's a slow
morning, I'll trade you some chichi dango for the story?" </span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GUl7TOa0Xs8/UDWdS55M_OI/AAAAAAAAAxM/Di0hSII9LTY/s1600/kitsune+udon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GUl7TOa0Xs8/UDWdS55M_OI/AAAAAAAAAxM/Di0hSII9LTY/s320/kitsune+udon.jpg" height="211" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> Kitsune udon</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> Under normal circumstances, Takeko would
never even have considered retelling her tale to this strange man, no matter
how kindly his seemed, but there was something about him, something she
couldn't quite place, he inspired a feeling akin to nostalgia for something she
couldn't remember... Perhaps she was merely lonely and emotionally weary. She
sighed and nodded, in broad strokes, she started retelling the story of her
life. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">The unfortunate circumstances of her
birth… The blind old warrior hermit… The quiet years in his grove spent
learning bushido, reading his books, and tending to his twilight years… His
death and the appearance of Teruro Magunojo in her life, quickly followed by
that of Ingen. Their travels together as they trailed after Taizan Deshimaru.
The twin evils he unleashed by attempting to bring a man's wife from the dead. Finally, she came to recent events and her retelling got more detailed. She had
tried to avoid thinking about it, but somehow she felt that now, in the company
of this old man was a time to reflect over those events.
If only as a form of homage to those involved.</span></div>
Avohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15808959359850145003noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3518126816849670319.post-44024699220805514582012-08-23T07:31:00.000+02:002012-08-23T07:31:40.088+02:00Okurokami - part 15<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nHk5JOYOsXk/TLY7-OEivRI/AAAAAAAAAgk/ohDvNWbYkl8/s1600/ONmyoji+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="204" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nHk5JOYOsXk/TLY7-OEivRI/AAAAAAAAAgk/ohDvNWbYkl8/s320/ONmyoji+copy.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_nHk5JOYOsXk/TLYZi_rJMxI/AAAAAAAAAgg/AoIS9CDVQWk/s1600/ONmyoji.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
Wisps of clouds crossed the night sky as wan moonlight fell upon the mountain’s flank. A small pyre danced shadows in the mouth of a sacred cave, a long forgotten place of ancient power. The clean smell of burning pinewood soured as Taizan no Seimei fed the small flames with pages from the cursed foreign book he had gone to such pains to retrieve. The pages came alive, shriveling and hissing in vain attempts to escape their ashen demise.<br />
<br />
The mystic had been disappointed with the book: it had turned out to be the writings of a madman whose sole purpose was to bring ancient and uncontrollable evil into the world… He realized that it would be useless in bringing the corrupt Tokugawa government to its knees. Instead he had resolved to tax his powers to the limit and raise army of fallen warriors to fuel his revenge.<br />
<br />
It was time. Taizan touched the flames and they turned cold and brilliant green. The unnatural light was a beacon compelling wrathful spirits to return to the world. Its brilliance intensified the surrounding shadows and seemed to mute all sounds. Darker and darker the space around the mystic grew, til finally it seemed that the only thing keeping the oblivion from devouring him was the sharp sphere of silence and light emanating from the preternatural flames… Though there was nothing to be seen or heard, the obscurity was filled with a strong sense of mute malice. He knew this would be the time when he would the most be at risk, the moment when he would have to impose the strength of his will over that of the restless spirits, when he would have to dominate the hunger of the dead with his spiritual power, when the slightest mistake could cost him eternal torment.<br />
<br />
A sound tore through the silence… the sound of something that has lost the ability to recognize pleasure from pain, madness embodied in a tortured shriek of laughter that somehow conveyed infinite despair. <br />
<br />
The mystic’s absolute focus wavered for just a moment and the eerie green flame vanished. Darkness and silence. Absolute darkness and silence. Small specks of iridescent green lights appeared in pairs… They seemed distant and diffuse at first, but they came into focus as they swiftly and soundlessly moved forward, piercing the grand veil. The eyes, as he now saw them to be formed a ring a dozen or so paces away from him. A ring of eyes reflecting a light that was no longer there. <br />
<br />
A shadow crossed the baleful green gazes as it slowly circled in the darkness between the mystic and the ring glowing eyes. <br />
<br />
“You said I could bring her back…” The accusation came from the darkness in a raspy sing-song voice that trailed into mirthless giggles. <br />
<br />
Seconds passed, during which the mystic struggled to regain control.<br />
<br />
“You were almost right…” the voice whispered close to his ear. <br />
<br />
One by one the pairs of eyes closed. <br />
<br />
A candle gutters, the tide crashes against the rocks, the tempest rages, and finally it dies. <br />
The oblivion swallows all to the sound of vicious soul cutting laughter.<br />
A vain scream is stilled in Stygian darkness.<br />
<br />
A fading voice like a bitter memory riding an ill wind from over the Sanzu river,<br />
“Almost was not enough.”
Avohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15808959359850145003noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3518126816849670319.post-79957682730595239992010-10-13T21:03:00.000+02:002010-10-13T21:03:34.316+02:00Okurokami - part 14~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<br />I have cast the last of my pebbles behind, fossilized memories, to help me find my way. <br />I want to go back because ahead of me lies only a web of weakness, poverty, and bone dry bottles converging to the point of my death. But looking back, the pebbles I have cast behind me have bloomed into flowers of ash that are being carried away with by a sad breeze. <br />There is nothing behind me and nothing ahead as I walk through my war torn mind. <br />My present is only the blade’s edge, one that I walk until I reach the point that will pierce me and end the battles.<br />I know where the next step on this path will lead me... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<br /><br />Ingen had gone pale… and he laughed nervously as Takeko carefully folded the cloth and returned it to its container. <br /><br />Teruro was hovering beside him doing his best to hide his curiosity, “So you actually saw something in there?” <br /><br />Looking pale and unusually thoughtful, Ingen replied, “I saw my end… I reckon it shouldn’t have surprised me, all things considered. Have you looked into that thing?”<br /><br />Teruro nodded and shrugged, “Yes, I have. I see only my reflection…” <br /><br />Ingen grabbed a bottle of sake and emptied it neatly down his throat, “Hey Takeko, what the hell did I just see? Was that the future? Can it be changed?”<br /><br />She shrugged in response, “You saw the truth… As far as I know no truth is absolute.”<br /><br />“I would like to know is how this helps us…” Teruro asked mildy. <br /><br />“Well, it has shown that Ingen can, to some extent, be trusted: he hasn’t lost his mind…” <br /><br />"Gee thanks... By the way, I saw were we need to go next... It's about days walk from here. So lets get some sleep, or finish drinking… Better yet, let’s finish drinking and then get some sleep.” <br /><br />Teruro looked at Takeko who merely nodded and rolled back up into her covers saying, “Don’t get too drunk Ingen. We’re setting out at first light in the morning.”<br /><br />He only responded with a drunken snore as the last bottle of sake slipped from his fingers. <br />Teruro sighed and started cleaning his sword by the fire’s light. <br />
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The food had all been eaten and the central fire-pit was casting its warm glow in the hut’s single room. Takeko was rolled up in her blanket and looked asleep in the dark corner where she was using her pack as a pillow: she had decided she wasn’t interested in listening to Teruro interrogate Ingen over postprandial drinks. <br />
<br />
-<br />
“Alright, lets recap…Firstly, you have foregone love, life, and probably sanity in the single-minded pursuit of mastery in the way of the blade?” Teruro asked.<br />
<br />
“Well, you done said it a lot prettier than I did, and the bit about my sanity is still up for grabs, I reckon.” Ingen replied with a smile.<br />
<br />
“Hrmph… Moving on. So you travel across the country fighting all comers and supposedly never lose. You recently went to challenge the famed martial artist Aonori Matsukaze, but you found him crazed and broken with grief in a deserted house cradling the long dead corpse of his wife against his emaciated chest. You buried the wife and set out to nurse the man back to health and sanity so that you could fight him and possibly kill him-You’re an odd person you know that?” <br />
Ingen shrugged.<br />
<br />
“Aonori seemed to have gotten better under your care, at least enough to ask you to find the mystic Taizan no Seimei who, he claimed, could help him. You thought nothing of it and fetched the mystic. Then you had ‘one too many’ and fell asleep while the mystic was tending to Toshimasu… When you woke up you found neither mystic nor martial artist, and the wife’s tomb had been desecrated. You’ve been chasing Taizan no Seimei since… Do you really expect us to believe that?”<br />
Ingen smiled and shrugged, “Believe me or not, that’s my story.” <br />
<br />
Teruro frowned in concentration, “Ok, moving on… What happened here, what were you doing here?” <br />
<br />
“Well, what you’d expect, I guess… I heard that Taizan was after some book that Portuguese had, and that the Portuguese where gonna dock here… so I was heading on over here when I first bumped into y’all. When I got here yesterday, the villagers had been shot dead with them foreign weapons. Taizan and the Portuguese captain were shouting at each other on the beach. The onmyoji [mystic] was saying how he took exception to their killing the villagers, and I reckon the Portuguese didn’t take to that way of thinking, so they tried to shoot Taizan... He took offense at being shot at, so called up that there spook -the one y'all just saw. The Portuguese tried to shoot it but it didn’t pay their bullets no mind, no sir it just walked right through and caved the captain’s head in with his golden club. That done put the fear into them foreigners and they piled into their row boats and tried to escape back to their ship. But the wraith could walk on water. It chased them down and killed them one by one, and then went on to continue its work on the ship.”<br />
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Teruro looked pensively at the fire and poured himself a fresh saucer of sake from the small ceramic jar heating in the sand next to the fire. He muttered half to himself, "Hmm... that was a yokai that spawns from anger and resentment, and feeds of fear... She must have no fear." He took a sip and asked, “So what were you doing while this was happening?”<br />
<br />
“Well, at first I wanted to hear what they were arguing about… But when the fighting broke out, I tried to follow Taizan but he just went to captain’s body, picked what I’m guessing was the book from off the corpse, and vanished. I looked around for a while and couldn’t find him, so I came back and everything was quiet. I had just finished up burying the villagers and when I noticed y’all out in the bay rowing to the ship… I tried ta holler, but y’all couldn’t hear me so I reckoned I make some dinner and wait for y’all to get back.” <br />
“Hmmm… I see. This raises a number of questions…<br />
-<br />
Ingen grinned, “Lemme guess… You wanna know who told me about the Portuguese bein’ here, right?” <br />
<br />
Teruro nodded.<br />
<br />
“Well, it happened like this, a few weeks back I met a Tokugawa shinobi, a real head-case you know? Anyways.. He’s the one who told me.” Ingen chuckled softly to himself. <br />
<br />
Teruro frowned, “I imagine he didn’t merely volunteer this information. Shinobi are notoriously tight lipped with their secrets…”<br />
<br />
Ingen grinned and shrugged, “Well, I reckon it wasn’t as simple as all that… He kinda attacked me screaming that he would “vanquish” me in the name of “justice”… As I said, that redhead was loopy. An ok fighter, but nothing to write home about… The dog that fought with him, on the other hand, was tricky. Anyways, after roughing them up a bit… I managed to convince him I was on his side…” <br />
<br />
Teruro quirked an inquisitive eyebrow.<br />
<br />
Ingen shrugged, “I guess it was my not killing him that convinced him, and the fact that there dog of his took a right liking to me once the fighting was over. I get along well with critters, see. They’re wild the way I am. Ya know? The fellah said a man loved by beasts can’t be evil, or something. So that’s when we got ta jawing.” <br />
-<br />
Teruro looked skeptical and said “Well Takeko, what do you think? You aren’t actually sleeping right?”<br />
<br />
Takeko sighed theatrically and sat up, “I wish I were, but you two just won’t quieten down. I could be dreaming about eating umeboshi.. I had a dream about that once… I was on an island that was actually giant umeboshi, and I had an endless supply of...” <br />
<br />
Teruro coughed pointedly.<br />
<br />
Takeko’s eyes refocused as she came back from her sweet (or sour, considering the umeboshi quotient involved) recollection. “Yes, anyways, I’ve seen lovers fence words and get to the point quicker than the two of you...”<br />
<br />
Ingen grinned and Teruro frowned… <br />
<br />
“I don’t think Ingen’s telling us everything, but then why should he… I do think he could be useful, even more so considering we have no idea where to go next.” Takeko nodded as if coming to a decision and pulled the lacquer box from her pack. “Let’s have him look into the cloth and find out what he's made of.”<br />
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<br />Avohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15808959359850145003noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3518126816849670319.post-2218836788306562982010-09-14T17:59:00.003+02:002010-10-13T20:45:50.954+02:00Okurokami - part 12<br />
Teruro pushed off of the Portuguese ship and started to navigate the small fishing boat through the moonlit bodies.<br />
<br />
“You don’t have to go around the bodies, you know.” Takeko said, “They aren’t really there.” <br />
“Eh? Hmm… Is that so?” Teruro tried to poke one of the pale bodies with the oar and watched the image ripple the way a reflection on the surface would.<br />
“You know, Takeko, I have some questions for you…” he said as he sculled.<br />
“Yes?”<br />
“Why don’t you start by telling me what happened on the ship?”<br />
Takeko shrugged, “Nothing much, a guy with a crooked club tried to bash my head in, but I kinda hit him first.”<br />
“Kinda?”<br />
“Yeah, my blow passed through his face. He wasn’t really there. Then, he ran away through the side of the boat, onto the water, and vanished.” <br />
“…” Teruro looked pensive. <br />
<br />
Drifting clouds dampened the moonlight and the ghostly image of the bodies faded from view.<br />
<br />
“I understand that your master was cast out from his order for being more devout as a follower of the way of the blade than that of Buddha. Clearly he has trained you in way of true battle.”<br />
Takeko nodded and shrugged.<br />
“But why is it that nothing seems to faze you?” <br />
Takeko sighed, “I guess I was going to have to tell you sooner or later. As you know, I have visions… I experience those visions from the point of view of a person in my vision. Everything they feel, see or hear, and, to some extent, think- I experience as well. But the real kicker is that while, to the world, my visions last anything from a few seconds to up to thirty minutes, their duration is unrelated to how much time I experience within it.”<br />
“Eh? So then…”<br />
“Yes, By the time I was twelve I had already experienced several lifetimes worth of visions. The highs of human achievements, the low of human weakness, and a great amount of everyday human activity. But then I figured out how to control it and only had visions when I chose to…”<br />
“How did you get control over it?”<br />
Takeko looked at Teruro, as if gauging his soul, and shrugged as she decided to trust him… “The secret is in my hair… When people look into my hair, they see truths about themselves. Sometimes people don’t want to hear the truth about themselves. When I look into it, I have visions…”<br />
“So the cloth in that box you carry is woven from your hair… And that’s why you keep your head shaven.”<br />
Takeko nodded.<br />
Teruro frowned, “Hmm… Well, I guess that leaves me with just one question.” <br />
“Ok…What is it?” Takeko said guardedly. <br />
“We’ve been traveling together for a few day now. How is it that your pack seems three times bigger now than when we left?”<br />
“Oh, I just I picked some stuff up along the way…” <br />
“Stuff?” <br />
“Yes… Well… When we stopped at that teahouse I got some rice, some dried fish, a pot of miso, and another of umeboshi… I picked up some chestnuts in that forest we walked through… in the galley of the ship I got…”<br />
“Ok, ok I get the picture…”<br />
“Hey look we’re coming to shore… I smell food!”<br />
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<br />
“You again.” Teruro said tersely as he leapt off of the boat and started pulling it onto the beach.<br />
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The young man’s hale and unshaven face split into a winsome grin. “Yep me again.”<br />
“Oh hi, it’s you! Do you have enough for us too?” Takeko enthused.<br />
<br />
The muscular young man blinked in surprise and then chucked softly. <br />
“As a matter of fact, I have! Right this way miss. My name is Ingen by the way.” <br />
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Takeko followed Ingen into one of the nearby huts… Teruro frowned, checked the surroundings, and shrugged as he followed the other two.<br />
“I have a pot of Shijimijiru* going and there are a half-dozen Sanma** roasting next to the fire.”<br />
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“Hmm… You were clearly expecting us. How long have you been here?” Teruro asked.<br />
“I’ve been here for two days, I came straight here from the tavern where we first met.”<br />
“Ha. I told you going through mountains would take longer!” Takeko exclaimed triumphantly.<br />
“Apparently so… But that’s not important. What I’d like to know is, who are you? Why did you come here? What do you want?” <br />
The young man shrugged dismissively, “I’m Ingen.” After a dramatic pause, he went on to conclude, “And I’m going to kill the man you are after.”<br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_nHk5JOYOsXk/TI-betMywvI/AAAAAAAAAdA/ldfEkc2QwDo/s1600/sanma+bones.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_nHk5JOYOsXk/TI-betMywvI/AAAAAAAAAdA/ldfEkc2QwDo/s200/sanma+bones.jpg" width="200" /></a>“Hey guys, since you aren’t eating your fish… Can I have them?” Takeko asked, pointing at the four remaining fish with the bones of two she had eaten.<br />
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*Shijimijiru = Miso soup with clams <br />
**Sanma = Pike Mackerel<br />
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<br /></div>Avohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15808959359850145003noreply@blogger.com13