THE ORDEAL - SECTION 1

 THE ORDEAL 

 SECTION 1

 

Jiense, rather Teuquob (her actual name), had been directed to a much safer Reaog town by Ensa. Things might have turned out quite different and perhaps a bit mundane if the quirks of fate hadn’t interfered and altered her intended course.

As fantastic as it may seem when she’d reached the key juncture on the road a stray fox suddenly appearing on the spot out of thin air spooked the horse.

The terrified steed bolted, neighing, reared its front legs up high in the air, then after fiercely stomping them on the ground, shod like a projectile in full gallop in an entirely different direction. All during this most grueling, catapulting ride, though violently rocked and tossed about, as mark of her horsemanship, she’d stayed in the saddle by stubbornly clinging onto the horse’s bridle (mane).  The steed completely drenched in sweat had finally tempered his stride to a canter but by then Teuquob had lost all sense of direction and hadn’t a clue as to her whereabouts. Halting the beast on a hilltop and craning her neck, her eager gaze meticulously surveyed the open perimeter far and wide as her eyes sought to decipher or to mark a single identifiable landscape, an outlet perhaps that might correctly steer them back to their original course (destination). But after a disappointing period (spell), she had to concede to her present dire predicament: that she was utterly, hopelessly lost! Her heart laden with despair then, she lowered her head and shrugged. “So be it.”

Dismounting, she allowed the steed a brief respite wherewith to graze on the available grass; then overriding any persistent trepidation, back in saddle, she intrepidly embarked on the unpremeditated, variant direction.

She would have had a serious cause for concern however, had she known that this elected course was the very one that she’d been gravely warned against, and that come what may, from hereon, her fate fraught with danger, would be hanging in the balance with every leg of the advance.  The serpentine (meandering) route after a treacherous descent, traversed through the most perilous, immense wetland (marsh) to eventually terminate at the base of the towering foothills. Even if she were to be extremely fortunate enough to have survived the quagmire, she would then be faced with the ordeal of the dreaded foothills skirting the massive ridges of a gargantuan mountain.

It’s hard to say which projected the greatest risk: the grave topography or the carnivorous, feral beasts that were said to have inhabited the foothills and the subsequent mountain range?

The “Five Brothers” as these vast hills were called: rested at the outskirts of an ascending most treacherous, most precipitous mountain.  The monumental mountain with its sheer ridges, sharper than sharpest blades had its four peaks perpetually crowned with the white incandescent clouds; while its invisible summit reached so high that it penetrated the lower reaches of the azure heavens; hence, the name Tejunar, meaning “the eyes of Heaven”. Tejunar was so densely forested with centuries old ancient trees that in parts the sun’s rays were completely blotted out. The entire mountain range, meanwhile, was claimed “to have been inhabited” by many guardian mountain spirits that to date discouraged all or any trespassers. The staunch belief had come about over the span of years, as far too many hardy souls, hunters with mettle, gallant man and adventurers, mercenaries or diehards had lost their lives and in a terrible way too, during their bold undertaking (enterprise). The resulting colorful folktales embellished with supernatural accounts and phantasmal exploits of apparitions, goblins or evil entities had increasingly (further) fed the imagination. And so, for a decade now, despite the apparent abundance of game on this mountain range, no sane man had ever dared to violate the foreboding, deemed sacred ground, leaving the cohabitant wild beasts to roam at will and (to multiply into still greater numbers.) flourish in natural abundance.

                                                                                       ~

This be opined unfortunate or not, fate determining the way, at dusk she’d inadvertently bypassed the ‘last chance’ alternate route, to find herself (facing) encountering an increasingly inhospitable territory, that no one would ever dare venture into. Be that as it may, and this being no small feat- day after day she’d forged on- ridden, galloped or trudged on foot as they both- she and the beast, negotiated the difficult, oftentimes treacherous terrain, to cover a great distance. Only at the conclusion of each grueling day’s ride, as the darkness encroached to blanket (veil) the Earth, the bone chilling air compounded by the thrashing winds, would compel her to seek some semblance of shelter. But mindful of the din of howling, roaring beasts’ outside, in that opportune cove or an abandoned cave, she would oftentimes lie there in fetal position nestled to the small campfire, clutching the long knife- a generous gift of Ensa’s, hardly getting a wink. Cold and weary, her head riddled with cobwebs at the crack of dawn, while the horse satisfied his hunger on the abundant tall (lush) grass, she would quickly nibble on the portion of her scant rations; then once again rising to the challenge, she would hop back in saddle and take on the next plausible course.

On this day, after a long spell of riding, this is strange! Umm… the queerest thing! Just then becoming aware, she abruptly halted the nervous steed’s advance. Leaning forward she gently stroked his mane to steady him, then sitting upright once more; she cocked her head to one side and listened… She listened long and hard.

Hmm, still nothing!

To her growing unease, as she looked around, she further became cognizant of the stark, deathly silence surrounding her. Not a single leaf stirred, no insect buzzed, no birds chirped, there was no roar or a howl of any kind, no semblance (apparent) of animal life at all. No natural hum, thud or echo or pitch except that of her own breathing and the steady sounds of her mount as his hoofs nervously trod (trampled) on the reverberating ground akin to a (much like a) rhythmic drumbeat. Cast in this surreal, all pervasive, eerie atmosphere, she moreover could not shake the sensation of being espied upon.

“But by whom, by what?” She could not rightly, guess; nor did the subsequently traversed distance in the wake (aftermath) of the treacherous descent had in any way altered the persistent reality or diminish in the least the ongoing strong sensation of being avidly observed and studied perhaps by an omnipresent, intensely intrusive pair of unseen eyes.

The curious impression eventually did abate (ceased) when, after a long, grueling stretch, both the rider and the horse had suddenly and completely become gobbled-up by the dense thicket- for they had then unwittingly entered the dreaded quagmire! From hence the meandering path overgrown with weeds and brambles with many undulating pitfalls made their slow advance more laborious. Meanwhile the moisture laden air, restrictive and foul smelling, increasingly oppressed her bronchial passages. Gasping, straining for that precious breath, she led the reluctant horse by the bridle, treading wearily on the seemingly endless, soggy, slimy, uneven ground. Guided only by intuition, they had more than once barely avoided several well-disguised pitfalls, camouflaged quicksand and cloaked abysmal pools; meanwhile on the solid patches, the entwining shrubs or the ground runners unfailingly raced at every leg of the advance to maliciously mar or hinder their dauntless progress.

Her heart had oftentimes leaped to her mouth when she encountered creepy, crawly, scaly, slithering, long tapering cylindrical forms that just as quickly disappeared into the pools of stagnant water, underbrush, or simply vanished in the cavities of the earth or rock.

 In this nightmarish labyrinth with innumerable days blending with infinite nights, her sanity riding on the precipice, she’d been further burdened with the exertion of trying to handle the frightened, wayward steed that oftentimes strove to just run away from it all. Mercifully however, thus far they’d been spared from the most prevalent danger:  of being bitten by any number of the four indigenous poisonous reptiles- for one bite would have been sufficient to render any being or a beast in an instantaneous comatose state that eventually resulted in a most painful, lingering death. As it were, she only had a comparable herb, a sort of antidote in that bundle of hers, capable of averting catastrophes from insects or amphibians. And so, too fearful to stop, they’d for many a day endlessly ploughed on in this incubus maze. But anxiety had not been the sole driving force behind it all; in fact, advance had been partly made possible because of a very useful herb also fortuitously included in that medicinal pouch of hers. When chewed, the specific plant-leaves (seeds) had endowed (furnished) Teuquob with a strong stamina, keen reflexes and heightened threshold for the pain- enabling her hence, to go far beyond her limits. But at the intermittent times when the effects of the drug waned or altogether wore off (especially at the end when there were no more to be had): the mental and physical downturn, the withdrawal symptoms took a terrible physical and mental toll on her. In anticipation of a worst scenario, to prevent her falling off the mount, she’d already, by way of ropes, (fastened) secured (lower part of) her body at the waist to the saddle. But as the time wore on, even with the compliment of likewise ingested herbs, her endurance notwithstanding, she’d subsequently suffered the partial loss of feeling and sensation in her limbs, arms and legs. Meanwhile numbed to the core, her mind had often wondered wildly, reeling through picturesque, fantastic imagery in the atmospheric surreal dream-state.

It was no small miracle indeed, when unexpectedly one day, nearing dusk, both rider and the mount had suddenly found themselves at the periphery, and so somewhat unscathed, emerged from this dangerous trammel and deadly snare. With resurgent zeal the mount had pushed forward then, till he’d reached a safer clearing. Coming to, she’d barely managed to untie the knots and letting go, slid off the horse plump collapsing on the hard ground. After an undetermined time, she’d regained full consciousness; delighted by the refreshing change from the traversed slimy, soggy base- arms outstretched, eyes closed shut, she’d nevertheless lain there perfectly still, with only her chest cavity slightly rising and falling, as she took in a more well-earned, elongated rest under the blanket of stars. Fortunately, in all that time the noble mount (horse) had never strayed too far, grazing quietly while dutifully watching over her.

Daylight anew had brought its own variable challenges; still, nothing comparable to the ordeals just endured.

 

                                                                   ~

 

Once more back on course, with the strange sense of urgency fueling, egging them on, with the incessant riding at times in full gallop, they’d inexorably covered the inhospitable, sparsely forested and undulated steppe that seemingly had no end in sight. A mere speck on this vast landscape, this sporadically forested expanse with its intermittent gorges and valleys rising and dipping- after going over the last hump, one day she’d looked on ahead to behold the rank, forebodingly magnificent foothills. The very ones she’d been warned against! She recollected well then, Ensa’s imparted knowledge, relayed mostly by way of diagrams: How the wide band of infamous foothills skirted the eastern side of the mountain range… beyond which lay a far steeper climb.

06

She sighed, anticipating grater hardships still but fought the feeling of trepidation like a talon that had anew gripped her heart.  For what other choice did she have? After a dismissive shrug, she exhaled a deep expunging breath. Oh well, with ‘Heaven’s’ help she’d survived thus far; if it’s so ordained, notwithstanding prevalent dangers, she’ll yet again persevere!

“There’s no turning back now, hope you’re up to it old-boy!” She leaned forward and whispered into the horse’s ear as she affectionately patted the side of his neck. Besides, she’d been drawn to the majestic mountain range for an added reason:

For a long time hence, even before she’d parted from Ensa’s care, she’d nurtured an inner desire, born out of her desperate circumstance- to encounter, to chance upon a place of worship, a monastery or a lonely recluse’s hut. The dizzying heights of the summits with their proximity to the Heavens would be an ideal setting for such.  She anticipated that, there, as in her country, the mountain range would be a beacon of sorts, propelling, attracting pious beings of various religious sects or hermits, all irrespectively seeking sublime sanctuary.  Indeed, this had been at the root of her tenacity, the driving force for overcoming such incredible odds.

                                                                ~

Succeeding days, with renewed zeal, she’d relentlessly forged on through the foothills towards the gargantuan mountain range, even though the precariously hung, meandering, scantily viable (feasible) path overgrown with climbers, brambles, thorns and loose boulders, with swift flowing streams presented a daunting challenge, at times quite impossible to traverse. Meanwhile her concentration was so intently focused on the task at hand that she’d in the interim had remained deliberately oblivious to the resurgent eerie atmosphere that had for quite some time now, for lack of a better word, dogged (plagued) her.

The all-encompassing silence had of course re-surfaced (revived) shortly after she’d emerged from the quagmire, and well before she’d found herself at the periphery of the foothills. Brushing this distraction aside, she’d intentionally abstained from questioning this bizarre happenstance; for inwardly she’d deemed it a blessing from “Heaven”, especially since enveloped rather cocooned, in this somewhat protective supernatural milieu- and so spared from the worldly concerns of danger from predatory beasts- she’d been able to better advance, and be at liberty to collect water from the occasional stream, gather berries, nuts, roots and other such edible foods for sustenance.

Leaving it to the caprice of “Nature”, the only manifest difficulty meanwhile, stemmed from the tempestuous weather. For even on a relatively good day, she could suddenly become drenched with an unexpected downpour or be engulfed in precipitate murk, mist or haze; or enshrouded in dust-clouds (dust particulate matter) by the ever vigilant, gusting, thrashing winds that completely obscured all visibility. As it were the bone chilling frigid temperatures of the evenings contrasted greatly with the dampness of the morning dews and the stifling heat of the noontime- this being still the summer season. To survive the frigid temperatures of the nights she would don over her man’s attire the so-called waterproofed (waxed) jacket that Ensa had provided. But periodically when even this seemed inadequate, she would further cover herself with branches laden with leaves or moss as she huddled her body in protective corners of abandoned caves or coves. And when her footwear overtime became too threadbare, adept in ways of surviving, she’d resourcefully used strips cut from her generous portions of clothing to reinforce the soles for an added protection.  Nevertheless, in this harsh environment the cruel elements still taking their toll, her lovely hands in due course had become painfully chaffed, as did her arms and legs that now bore countless scratches and cuts. Added to this asperity was the resurgent odd feeling (a hunch) of again being watched (observed) by a pair of unseen eyes that were neither human nor beast!

Periodically, she would even perceive an acute sense of being threatened by it; but in the absence of manifest danger, gradually she’d become more curious and less fearful of the entity that of which never straying too far persistently stalked her. And so, when darkness blanketed the earth, she took solace by dwelling on this unseen constant companion and even at times outwardly conversed with it before falling asleep.

Once at midday after consuming her meager rations of food she’d been resting quietly with her back leaned against an ancient tree when just then she spotted a strange, bizarre creature crouched on an overhead rock up ahead. As she’d blinked and stirred, it’d instantaneously disappeared into thin air. Nor had this been the only such sighting of the mysterious, clearly supernatural entity… She could not rightly say whether it’d happened in a dream state or not, but on another occasion, late in the evening she’d suddenly been startled awake by a sensation of being touched or groped.  Bent on confronting this intrusive, phantom companion, on the subsequent nights she’d feigned being asleep and duly waited; and sure enough, on the fourth or fifth turn, well into the night as she’d remained dormant, something resembling a fox, a furry creature of sorts, had warily (guardedly) drawn quite near to sniff then prod her. Assuming that this was not a dangerous apparition, she was about to spring forth to grab hold, when unfortunately, just then, the ever-vigilant steed raising quite a ruckus, thwarted her aim. Nor did she ever gain another such chance, as each night thence; the moment she’d laid her head down, an unnatural (unholy) deep slumber at once overtook her.

                                                                                                     ~

 (End of Section 1)

(MORE EXCITING EVENTS WILL UNFOLD IN THE NEXT POST OF THE ORDEAL -SECTION 2)

The Haunted Pavilion

The Haunted Pavilion

(An old Chinese tale retold)

Click to Hear a Reading of This Story

(You can scroll down to read along.)

The Haunted Pavilion Part 1

A long time ago it was a norm for scholars, ‘wandering with sword and lute’ as it was known then, to travel the countryside, seeking knowledge from ancient sites and attaining wisdom from men of learning.

It so happens, one such scholar was trekking along a road south of Anyang, en-route to the city. He’d arrived late at a village some twelve miles short of Anyang, and as night was closing in fast, he asked an old woman if there was an inn nearby.

Her response was that the nearest inn was some miles distant.

“That would not do.” The scholar hummed. “Oh well, I may as well stay the night at that pavilion I’ve just passed.”

Such pavilions were common in China at that time, used as resting places for weary travelers, and looked after by neighboring villagers. But hearing this old woman paled and at once barring his way, she cautioned, “You must not do that! The place is haunted by evil spirits and demons! No one who had stayed there had ever lived to tell the tale.”

The young scholar however dismissed her dire warnings with wave of a hand and smiling said that he was quite adept at taking care of himself. No amount of protestation from the gathered villagers would deter him and he set off for the pavilion.

When pitch darkness blanketed the earth, far from going to sleep, the scholar instead, lit a small lamp and, retrieving his book, began reading the passages out loud. Time passed and, for a long while, nothing stirred until, on the stroke of midnight, the scholar heard loud footsteps on the road outside. Peering out of the door he saw a man dressed in black. The man stopped and called for the master of the pavilion.

“Here I am,” ejected a petulant voice from just behind the scholar, startling him so that he jumped in surprise. He turned but there was no one there.

“What do you want?” The huffy voice, emerging from thin air, asked.

“Who is in the pavilion?’ the man in black demanded.

“A Scholar is in the pavilion, but he is reading his book and not yet asleep,” the voice replied.

At this the man in black sighed, and turned his steps towards the village.

The scholar shook his head and, with a slight grimace on his lips, he settled back on his makeshift bed and resumed his reading. Some while later he was again interrupted by loud footsteps and this time, as he peered out of the door, he saw a man in a red hat halting on the road outside the pavilion.

“Master of the Pavilion!” the man bellowed.

“Here I am,” again the grumbling voice came from just behind Scholar.

“Who is in the pavilion?” the man in the red hat with a fiery voice demanded.

“A scholar is in the pavilion, but he is reading his book and not yet asleep,” the voice responded.

At this the man in the red hat sighed too and turned towards the village.

“It looks like I’m not going to get any peace tonight.” The scholar put aside his book and waited for a few minutes until he was sure there was no one else coming down the road. After a time he crept out of the door and, standing on the road, called out, “Master of the Pavilion!”

”Here I am,” came the same response from within.

“Who is in the pavilion?” the scholar asked.

“A scholar is in the pavilion but he is reading his book and not yet asleep,” the voice responded.

The scholar sighed and then asked, “Who was the man in black?’

“That was the black swine of the North,” the voice answered.

“And who was the man in the red hat?”

“That was the Red Cock of the West.”

“And who are you?” the scholar then demanded.

“I am the Old Scorpion,” was the reply. At this the scholar quietly snickered then slipped back into the pavilion. He did not sleep however; instead, he stayed awake the rest of the night reading his book, undisturbed.

The Haunted Pavilion Part Two

The next morning the villagers who’d rushed to the pavilion to see if the scholar had survived the night were aghast to see him seated on the veranda with a calm composure and strumming his lute. As they gathered around him bombarding him with questions the scholar held up his hand for silence.

“Patience, soon all will be revealed.” He smiled and then rising, added, “Follow me; I shall venture to remove the curse from this building.” He quickly went back inside the pavilion with many of the villagers trailing him. He fetched his sword, unsheathed it then, turning, signaled for them to stay back. Advancing swiftly he pulled aside a rotting screen in the corner of the room. Many gasped as they witnessed a gigantic black scorpion behind it, poised to strike. With one sweep of his sword, the scholar split the creature from head to tail; the two parts collapsed lifeless to the floor. There was a hissing sound, then black coils of smoke rising from the ashes, it all simply evaporated into thin air.

Not in the least bit perturbed he next asked the villagers where they had kept a black pig.

“In the house north of the pavilion,’ those finding their voice answered, and then showed him the place.

Indeed, exactly where they had directed the scholar, he soon discovered a huge black pig. He looked up, its eyes glinting with demonic fury. Being daylight however, the possessed beast’s powers were greatly diminished. Before it could strike the scholar wielded his sword and struck a deadly blow dropping the pig stone dead at his feet.

“Now where do you keep a large red rooster?’ facing the quivering crowd, he asked.

“In a shed to the west of the pavilion,” some brave souls answered and pointed at the direction of the place.

Sure enough there was an enormous red cockerel there, with a huge red comb, and long, sharp talons. Once more, with another swift strike of the blade, the scholar decapitated the demon disguised as the bird. He too lay dead at scholar’s feet.

Later, at a feast given in honor of the hero, the scholar graciously explained to the bewildered villagers how he had discovered the identities of the demons.

And so from that day on, with the demons vanquished, no harm ever came to anyone wanting respite at the pavilion south of Anyang.

The End