The Hunter and the Bobcat

The Hunter and the Bobcat

(An original story by BoSt)

Part 1

Once there was a great hunter and his family who lived in a remote part of the Northern wilderness, a long distance from any other lodge and it was seldom that they saw any faces other than those of their own household.

He was nevertheless content living in isolation, for he had a fair wife and two healthy, boisterous sons. Each day they were left in the lodge while he went out hunting in quest of the game whose flesh was their primary source of food.

Game was very abundant in those days and his labors in the hunt and chase were often well rewarded. His two sons were still too young to accompany him and so all day long they were free to play make believe and discover things so long as they played within the confines of the lodge.

Observant as they were, they once espied a young man who visited the lodge during their father’s absence, and noted that these visits became more frequent as time went by.

Curiosity winning over, once the elder of the two asked his mother in all innocence:

"Mommy, tell us who this tall young man is that comes here so often during our father's absence. Does the stranger wished to see father, but misses him? Shall we tell father when he comes back this evening so he can delay his departure time just a little?"

"Donquri, you little fool," said the mother angrily, "this is grown up business, mind your bow and arrows, and do not be afraid to enter the forest in search of birds and squirrels, with your little brother. It is not manly to be ever about the lodge. Nor will you ever grow up to become a warrior if you tell fibs or all the little things that you see and hear to your father. Say not a word to him about this."

The boys obeyed, but as they grew older and still noticed the visits of the stranger, their gut feeling being ill at ease, they resolved to speak again to their mother.

They now told her that they meant to make known to their father all that they had witnessed, for they frequently saw this young man passing through the woods, and he did not walk in the path, nor did he carry anything to eat. If he had any message to deliver at their lodge, why did he not give it to their father? For they had observed in other cases, that messages were always addressed to men, and not to women.

When her sons spoke thus to her, the mother was greatly perturbed. Fear took hold in her heart and she in great fury admonished them:

“You are still both young and have no real comprehension of things. Hence, you should not interfere in adult concerns. If you insist with your meddling and cause trouble, I will be forced to be more severe. “She said, "I warn you both, do not speak of this to your father or me ever again!"

In fear they, for a time, held their peace, but still noted that the stranger’s frequent stealthy visits to the lodge persisted, they long at last resolved to brave any consequence and disclose this fact their father. Their loyalty to their father demanded it after all!

Part 2

Accordingly, one day when they were out in the woods, by then having grown up and learned to follow the chase, they caught up with their father and quickly told him all that they had seen in the past.

They watched with worrying eyes as the anger manifested on their father’s face then grew unnaturally dark. He remained silent and still for a while, and when at length he looked up there was unholy fire flaming in his pupils.

"It is done!" he said. "My children I ask that you tarry here until the hour of the setting sun, and then come to the lodge and you will find me there."

In two shakes of a hat he was at the lodge. The door flew open and he barged right in resembling a big fierce bear ready to tear all about him into smithereens.

But she was seated lone mending some tears in the children’s coats.

“Where is he?” He bellowed.

“Who?” She cried out in fear.

“You know very well who?” He murderously grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her senseless. “You broke your promise... Now I shall not beholden to my promise. I shall vanquish your kind one and all.” He growled at her.

She knew no amount of pleading will be of any use. He was heartless, a brutal hunter that had no compunction about killing entire species and wiping them from the mountains. On that day he’d cornered her and her younger brother after killing her parents, the two little bobcat pups were shivering with fright.

He was about to deal both a death blow when she had stood in front of her brother to protect him and swore by the Great Spirit of the Mountains, that if spared, she would serve this brute without complaint to the end of her days. The Great Spirit had answered her prayers, and turned her into a human. The hunter in turn had promised never to hunt her kind, so long as she stayed away even from her brother and served only him. Tears streamed from her face remembering that cursed day and all the miserable days after that when she was not free and missed her brother terribly. Her only solace was that her kind was left alone from then on to thrive and hunt in the mountain whereas all other predators faced extinction without mercy from the Hunter. Some species were hunted to extinction. Meanwhile her brother had grown up among other bobcats that adopted him. Missing his sister terribly, he’d eventually tracked her scent and found her for the bond of kinship was very strong.

She was fearful for what the Hunter might do if he ever found out; still she could not help herself, for she loved her brother dearly. He called on her frequently and relayed to her all the news about her kind which somewhat mitigated her homesickness.

She pleaded and pleaded with the hunter for his mercy. But he was bent on revenge and called on the Great Spirit to punish her. The Great Spirit punished her for violating her promise by turning her into a horrid version of a Bobcat. And so from then on she was barred from having any contact with her children as well as being shunned by her own kind. She was forced to live a horrible existence for the duration of her natural life, always lurking in the shadows.

Meanwhile, the two ingrate sons, that had more their father’s temperament than their mother’s, remained sporting away the time till the hour for their return had come.

When they reached the lodge the mother was not there. They dared not to ask their father whither she had gone, and from that day forth her name was never spoken again in the lodge.

Part 3

In the course of time the two boys grew to be men and, although the mother was nevermore seen neither in the lodge nor on the paths in the forest, nor by the river side, she still lingered near the lodge.

Changed, but the same, with ghastly looks and arms that were withered, she appeared to her sons as they returned from the hunt, in the twilight.

At night she darkly unlatched the lodge-door and glided in, and bent over them as they sought to sleep. Oftenest it was her bare brow, white, and bony, and bodiless, that they saw floating in the air, and making a mock of them in the wild paths of the forest, or in the midnight darkness of the lodge.

Fuelled with false facts, with outraged bias against her, the sons viewed their mother as a terror that hunted their peace and lives. They cursed her existence for according to them she made every spot where they had seen her, hideous to the living eye. The hunter never witnessed such; still he was frustrated and grew somewhat weary of his sons’ complaints. Finally his sons were resolved, together with their father, now stricken in years, to leave the country.

They began a journey toward the South. After traveling many days along the shore of a great lake, they passed around a craggy bluff, and came upon a scene where there was a rough fall of waters, and a river issuing forth from the lake.

In pursuit of them the mother came out of the woods in the form of a giant, grotesque, rabid bobcat. At this moment, one of them looked out and saw a stately crane sitting on a rock in the middle of the rapids. They called out to the bird, "See, grandfather, how we are persecuted? Come and take us across the falls that we may escape her."

The crane so addressed was of extraordinary size, and had arrived at a great old age, and, as might be expected, he sat, when first described by the two sons, in a state of profound thought, revolving his long experience of life there in the midst of the most violent eddies.

When he heard himself appealed to, the crane stretched forth his neck with great deliberation, and lifting himself slowly by his wings, he flew across to their assistance.

"Be careful," said the old crane, "that you do not touch the crown of my head. I am bald from age and long service and very tender at that spot. Should you be so unlucky as to lay a hand upon it, I shall not be able to avoid throwing you both in the rapids."

They paid strict heed to his directions, and were soon safely landed on the other shore of the river. He returned and carried the father in the same way; and then took his place once more where he had been first seen in the very midst of the eddies of the stream.

But the woman, who had by this time reached the shore, cried out, "Come, my grandfather, and carry me over, for I have lost my children, and I am sorely distressed."

The aged bird, now questioning his earlier judgement, at first obeyed her summons, and flew to her side. He was a suspicious sort and seeing how hideous she looked in her grotesque bobcat form, once more doubted her story. She had to have been an evil spirit in pursuit. She would harm then soon as she crossed the water. And so feeling rather noble he harboured a secret desire to harm this evil spirit and defend them. He carefully repeated the warning, expecting her to disregard it, that she was not to touch the crown of his head. Outwardly he begged her to bear in mind that she should respect his old age, if there was any sense of virtue left in her.

She promised to obey; but they were no sooner fairly embarked in the stream, that instantly the crane cast her into the rapids, and shook his wings as if to free himself of all acquaintance with her.

“Why have you wronged me?” She cried as she sunk in the raging stream. The woman disappeared, was straightway carried by the rapid currents far out into the waters, and in the wide wilderness of shore-less depth, without companion or solace, and was lost forever.

“I’m preventing you from harming any other, you foul creature!” He responded very much pleased with himself for doing the noble thing.

Suddenly however the gust of wind derailed him and unable to find his bearing, he too plummeted into the waters.

“What a fool!” The hunter gritted his teeth for the loss of such a fine meal. They picked themselves off the ground and trudged along to find some other game to satisfy their growing hunger.

The mountain spirit could stand this injustice no longer, and in one breath, turned the hunter and his sons all to field mouse.

They deservedly from then on live in fear and hunted by many.

Fin

The Tunnel

The Tunnel

(A Re-write of a Zen Koan)

Part 1

Click to Hear a Reading of Part 1

Once upon a time in a frontier town the brash young son of a Warrior, named Doku, desiring to experience more of life after the death of his father, left his rigid and regulated circumstance and embarked on a long journey towards the Capital.

He was a agile and strong young man and highly skilled in sword fighting. Halfway to the Capital he came upon a large estate on the periphery of a prosperous town.

The estate holder, Esquire Zaven’s first wife had died suddenly at childbirth leaving behind a squalling son. The property was enormous with many fields surrounding it that constantly needed tending. The historic mansion perched on a hilltop, supported a large household. As Zaven was always away on business, he’d been forced to re-marry in haste, acquiring a seemingly competent spouse to run the groundskeepers and the household staff in his absence. Doku, carrying exemplary credentials had no trouble securing the recently vacated position of a head Steward. Unfortunately during the course of his stay there he became enamored of the beautiful young wife of Esquire Zaven. Doku was a fetching young man with a fine physique that before long caught the eye of the young wife.

Once when Esquire Zaven was away on business, Doku chanced a clandestine meeting with the lady in which he professed his deep affections for her. She was an easy conquest and the two became instant lovers. The Esquire however returned unexpectedly early from his recent trip and so the illicit affair was exposed. Confronting the enraged husband, the culprit Doku slew the outraged Zaven in self-defense. Faced with this dire circumstance and facing certain death, the two lovers ran away.

Always on the run and with scant options for survival, Doku became a highwayman. His skill was unmatched and any resistance was swiftly squashed.

The spoils provided the couple with many luxuries. But still, it was never enough for the former wife. Greed dulled the appeal of this once beautiful woman and her demands, by degrees, caused Doku to grow increasingly disgusted with her. Finally he left her and resumed his journey, but not to the Capital.

Eventually he settled down to a frugal life in a remote frontier town at the base of a mountain, where he became known as a solitary mendicant.

As he matured he felt increasing remorse for his past sins. Ghosts regularly haunted his dreams calling for him to atone for his crimes, particularly the felony that had started it all. Finally, after all this soul searching, Doku’s thoughts centered on the dangerous cliff road over the mountain and the countless souls it had caused death and injury to.

“Yes, I shall do it.” He nodded resolutely. As his atonement for all his past crimes he resolved to cut a tunnel through the mountain. He knew it would be a most ambitious feat but he desperately needed to accomplish a good turn that may, in part, eradicate some of his sins.

End of Part 1

The Tunnel- Part 2

Click to Hear a Reading of Part 2

He set to work the very next day. From then on during the daylight hours Doku worked tirelessly doing any sort of labor, no matter how dangerous or loathsome. At night, after a modest meal and a brief repast, he hefted his pick and packed his shovel then traveled on horseback to the foothills. He spent the first several weeks surveying the region’s topography. From a hidden cave opening he started digging the tunnel until daylight broke. He made good use of the existing natural caverns, connecting them by digging short tunnels between them. By the time thirty years had gone by, the length of the tunnel reached 2,280 feet. Doku had almost achieved his goal of creating a secure pathway deep under the mountain. In a two more years he would reach his goal.

Before the work was complete however, the slain Esquire’s son Bron, who had become a skilled swordsman caught up with Doku. Bent on revenge, Bron lay in wait behind a huge boulder on a deserted stretch of path to spring his ambush. Doku with his experience as a highwayman had naturally sensed the presence of danger and dismounted. Holding the reins, Doku took the rocky path in bold strides that caused Bron to hesitate.

Bron paralleled the path for a time waiting for another opportunity to strike, then, brandishing his sword, jumped in front to block Doku’s way. Proclaiming his name, he shouted: “I’m here to avenge my father Esquire Zaven Ko, whom you’ve so foully murdered. Be prepared to die, vermin! “

On the verge of receiving the death blow, Doku maintained his calm composure and stated his protest, “"I will give you my life willingly; only, let me finish this crucial work first. On the day of its completion, I swear I will stand ready to receive my punishment."

Doku’s courage and earnest demeanor convinced the son to postpone his revenge to a later time. And so Bron temporarily set aside the blistering rage swelling his chest and, night after night, followed Doku to the tunnel and watched him work. In all that time, even with a death sentence hovering over his head Doku’s diligence never once wavered. He removed the rock with his pick and then constructed post and beam supports from the surrounding trees to buttress the walls of the tunnel. In this way several months passed. Doku, even when sick worked hard at the dig.

Eventually Bron grew tired of doing nothing but watch Doku. In order to keep fit and to hasten the end result, he simply showed up with a pick. No words were exchanged as he worked alongside Doku on the dig.

After he had helped for more than a year, keeping a close eye on the other even during the day, Bron gradually came to admire Doku's strong will and steadfast character. Bron witnessed firsthand many of other’s charitable ways: his unwavering assistance to the sick and old and the countless anonymous generous donations to the needy, even though it meant at times going without food and clothing. He took note how Doku most brave in defending the weak: so many lives were spared fending off the local hoodlums and many widows and orphans fared better or survived their harsh circumstance, because of Doku’s cavort aid.

At long last couple hours before dawn the tunnel was finally complete. Now the people could use it and travel in safety. Covered in dust and dirt, Doku now prostrated himself before Bron in readiness for death.

“Thank you for your patience and help. Now you may cut off my head. I bear you no ill will. My work is done."

"How can I cut off my own teacher's head?" asked Bron lowering his head with tears brimming in his eyes.



The End.

The Blue Moon Dragon (Revised)

The Blue Moon Dragon (Revised)

(An Original Dragon Love Story by BoSt) 

PART 1

Click to Hear a Reading of Part 1

(You can scroll down to read along.)

Once upon a time on an enchanted island far, far away there was a mighty Blue Dragon, the last of his kind, who inhabited a majestic mountain cave.

Long before he was born a meteorite crashed into this Planet and devastated the entire island, causing a massive extinction of many species including the antediluvian Dragon Kingdom. The Dragon Queen, with her gift of premonition, foresaw this cataclysm. When her warning fell on deaf ears, she arranged to have both of her precious blue and green eggs stored with the necessary provisions deep in the caverns of a mighty mountain. No one could have imagined that the scale of devastation and upheaval would be so catastrophic and far-reaching; hence they all perished leaving the land barren for many centuries to come. Meanwhile of the two eggs carefully stored in the depths of the mighty cave only one had survived to hatch. The blue dragon therefore was born into a lonely existence and grew up fending for himself. Eventually the land recovered and other life-forms began to thrive in this rich, pristine environment.

The blue dragon, now grown larger still, with his giant wings often soared through the skies in search of food, longing to find evidence of other dragons.

During his searches when earthquakes, landslides or other such catastrophes unearthed the remnants of the ancient Dragon civilization he discovered vast stores of knowledge that revealed the cosmic secrets of the universe and the gateway to the many other worlds that lay beyond the mystical sea surrounding his world. Unfortunately he also came to realize that he was alone, and would be alone forever, as the Age of Dragons had come to an end. Rage and sorrow took hold of him and the explosive energy he unleashed very nearly destroyed the island once again.

He regained his senses just in time. Coming to grips with reality, he settled down and searched the surviving stores of knowledge, assimilating this vast information in gradual segments. Meanwhile he’d already learned purely by accident that close proximity to the sun always helped to regenerate him. Proximity to the moon pacified his senses and, by the same token, he discovered the joys of meditative serenity.

As he grew in maturity, possessing more knowledge now, he ventured through the doorways to other existing worlds. On these many excursions, he discovered other lands over the mystic seas, realms that were populated by strange flora and creatures. Further and further he went searching for adventure or, perhaps, a likely companion. He was innately precautious and concealed his presence well. By this time he’d acquired many mystical powers. Beside that of concealment, he was now able to shape-shift into other living forms, however large or small. This made him bolder as he integrated into still stranger circumstances, such as those of the two-legged human creatures.

He mingled among them learning their complex structures of dialogue, barter, social etiquettes and their varied rules of governance. He found that, with practice, he could maintain his disguise for longer and longer periods, but never longer than a span of one night. His concealment was also more effective at night, for sunshine was too invigorating for him to constrain his powers.

End of Part 1

PART 2

Click to Hear a Reading of Part 2

(You can scroll down to read along.)

Once at dusk while flying over a well fortified powerful kingdom a strange sound wafted to his ears and, looking down, he spotted well manicured lawns and gardens with carefully structured pools and bridges. He’d never seen so fine a garden and so he swooped silently down and, as soon as his feet touched a branch, he transformed himself into a songbird.

It was a fine summer’s twilight with a light breeze that invited all beings into the outdoors. A group of people were laughing and chattering, advancing towards the tree he was perched on. He withdrew to the cover of thicker foliage to observe unheeded the small entourage now setting up a picnic down below.

The one among them standing to the side was particularly appealing. For one thing she had flawless white porcelain skin and was finely dressed. Her cascading golden hair was carefully managed with brilliant gems that gleamed like many stars in the full moonlight. She held a bouquet of flowers to her bosom so fragrant that it wooed his senses. The others, like flittering butterflies, rallied around her attempting to make her jovial and content. This somewhat amused the Dragon and he watched their behaviour and hers without tiring of it for the entire length of their gathering. When they prepared to leave he at once made himself invisible and followed after. His curiosity led him all the way back to her quarters but, seeing that they all went to bed, he reluctantly took his leave, flying out the open window. But at least he knew where this interesting creature dwelled, and he promised himself to return the next nightfall.

At first he was content watching her from afar in disguise but, bit by bit, he became smitten with her strange but sweet ways. By then he understood more of the ways of humans and how he might win her affections. Fortunately, she valued her time alone and often would send her attendants away on some fool’s errand just to gain some solitary, quiet moments by herself. Often she managed to sneak away at the conclusion of dinner to spend a tranquil period in the library. At other times she contrived to spend a few moments outside among the beds of flowers, leaning her back to a tree in contemplative repose. It was on one such occasion when the Blue Dragon decided at long last to approach her.

Desiring not to frighten her and wishing for a favorable response, he first transformed himself into a human male. He’d seen certain illustrations in poetry books, specific figures that she expressed some interest in, therefore he fashioned himself into a mixture of those features she liked best: a youth of similar age, rather handsome and dressed in fineries. He even picked a name for himself: Maviaku Brug, which translates as, ‘Blue Moon Dragon’.

He knew enough of the rules of propriety not to manifest and accost her in her private quarters, so he waited for an opportunity when she retreated into the garden seeking some solitude. Their first meeting was somewhat awkward and, regrettably still caused her a fright. But he soon talked his way out of it and won her confidence with his charm and wit.

In time, during many more clandestine encounters, as they discovered they had the same zest for life and innocent fondness for adventure, they grew much more attached to each other. Of course all during the exchange they’d maintained the strictest propriety and observed proper decorum, thus nothing untoward or improper transpired between the two. This platonic love however had grown from bud to blossom soon possessing both their heart and soul. Eventually when Maviaku Brug revealed his true form to her, he was delighted to find it made no difference at all. Meanwhile he was now free to not only share his innermost qualms but also, on the plus side, the multitude of advantages and joys that come with being a dragon.

Often, on her insistence, she was whisked away into the clouds riding on his back to view the world in a new thrilling way, an elation she could never have experienced without him. She was so happy then, that all else, all mundane earthly matters simply vanished in a puff. Hours spent with him simply melted away but when he was absent her heart pained with that unbearable longing for his company.

One fine evening, while resting on a strange high meadow by a spring, he reached forward and gently clasped her hand and looked questioningly deep into her eyes. No words were necessary, she simply nodded her assent and from that moment on they were bonded forever.

With a shy smile he drew a small packet from his robe, wrapped in a blue cloth that shimmered as if with the light of many stars. When she opened it she saw it was a figurine of a songbird.

Looking lovingly into her eyes Maviaku explained its meaning, “It is made from the stones of the Moon, where I stay when I want to be close to you, and it is shaped like the songbird I became when I observed you and your attendants in the courtyard that first evening. Keep it to remind yourself of me, and my eternal love for you.”

“I shall cherish it forever. “ She kissed the bird’s beak then reached forward to lovingly hold his hand.

End of Part 2

PART 3

Click to Hear a Reading of Part 3

(You can scroll down to read along.)

Unfortunately all good things must come to an end. One stormy night their closely guarded secret was discovered by a jealous attendant and, when promptly brought to the attention of His Majesty, his fury knew no bounds. He had three sons but only one daughter and now his darling daughter had being sullied by this, this dastardly intruder.

Immediately, a trap was devised to capture this brazen interloper. When the opportunity struck armed guards descended on him. Maviaku Brug could have transformed himself into his true form and incinerated them all, but he was far too concerned for the Princess’ well being, so he allowed himself be captured and brought in chains before his Majesty.

The King was in a murderous mood, and could not be reasoned with. Despite severe beating and torture the truth could not be attained, yet a most heinous, ruthless punishment was pronounced upon the presumed culprit. Badly bruised, bleeding profusely with many ribs and bones broken (for in this form he was as vulnerable as any human was) Maviaku was dragged outside by his chains for the administration of his harsh punishment. As soon as he was outside of the audience hall he was able to use his skills and simply vanished into thin air.

The poor guards unfortunately were made to suffer for their failure. Meanwhile the Princess was confined to new quarters high up in a tower and this time, placed under close scrutiny. She was watched day and night as the general consensus was that she was under the spell of a malevolent sorcerer.

For the good part of the year she was a virtual prisoner, never allowed a moment’s peace in all that time, nor was she left alone for a single moment. Day after day, month after month, the attending Priests and palace doctors had came to and fro, at first keeping her heavily sedated then gradually endowing her with small portions of added liberties.

She was eventually allowed to return to her more luxurious former quarters after she pretended she had been cured from the paranormal malady. Despite all their persuasive methods and medicinal concoctions they forced to ingest, however, deep within her soul and heart she’d maintained the seeds of affection for her beloved Maviaku. When things grew unbearable she drew strength from her memories of times shared with him. This source of happiness, the like of which she’d never known, was, after all, inexhaustible. So long as she drew breath she knew she could never forsake him for he, her first true love, was already an inseparable part of her being.

                                                                                      ~

Three nights hence would be the second full moon of the last month of the year, also known as a Blue Moon. Theirs was a superstitious nation, so many candles were lit and the residual smoke from the burning of incense imbued with scent crafted to scare away evil, permeated the air till dawn. Meanwhile, the Priests beat drums and held prayer sessions and sacrifices to appease the wandering evil spirits of the Blue Moon.

As soon as dusk fell, confident in their measures to rid the Palace of the least evil, exhausted from vigorous day’s activities, all denizens of the Palace and city had fallen into deep slumber peacefully tucked under warm quilts in their beds. Complete silence prevailed throughout the Palace and the land.

At stroke of midnight the Princess suddenly awoke with a start. She had sensed movement in the room. True enough there he was, the handsome young man was now turning away from the window to smile at her. How fortunate that she had left the window ajar.

“Please do not be frightened?” He approached her hesitantly. “I’m sorry I’ve disturbed you. “ He bit the corner of his lip to constrain the bursting emotions of rage and sorrow. “You’ve endured such hardship on my account…I meant to come earlier, but…”

“It is I who should beg your forgiveness.” She interjected and, eyes brimming with tears, she shook her head in dismay. “They’ve treated you so abominably. And I, oh I felt so helpless to do anything about it!”

In truth, she’d done her best to sway them. In the beginning she’d even secured her mother’s help by appealing to her compassion and when that yielded no result, enlisted her brothers’ help to reason with a father hell bent on revenge. But it was all to no avail. Instead, all her efforts had further convinced His Majesty of her possession by the evil sorcerer (otherwise known as the Blue Moon entity), as well as necessitating harsher measures and her prolonged incarceration.

“It grieves me to say this, but I’ve come to bid you farewell. I will not forget you, ever.” Maviaku turned to hide the emerging tears.

Rushing over she grabbed his arm and in a sobbing voice pleaded, “Please don’t go. But, if you must, I want to go with you, wherever that may be!”

He smiled and, cupping her face, looked deep into her eyes. “I’ve come to love you so very much. “ He leaned over and gently planted a kiss on her forehead. “Know this, regardless of any future outcome; you are now and forever will be my one and only mate.”

His face grew grim and he nodded. “However, I should have known there was so little, perhaps no chance at all, for us. I’m sorry; this is the way it must be for now. “He turned to go, then stopped, and after a thoughtful pause, drew from his finger a ring. He then took off his shiny blue cloak and presented both of them to her.

“One thing I have learned is that there are infinite possibilities to this universe and that nothing in it can be deemed impossible. Out of my deep regard and affection for you, I offer you the freedom to choose. Conceal this ring well and guard our shared secret. Wear this garment when the Blue Moon manifests and remember that I love you from afar. If, at the conclusion of your life span, you still have same affections for me, put on this ring on your forefinger and don the blue cloak. On that night I give you my solemn pledge that I will return and from that day hence, we shall be eternally together.”

He then transformed into a song-bird and flew out the window.

Wiping her tears, she folded the garment carefully and placed it in the drawer of her night table but she sought a more secure location to hide the ring. As it so happened there was a stone encased in loose mortar in a dark corner of the room behind some furniture. She’d discovered it when she was a child and concealed her most prized possessions there. It also contained the moon rock he had sculpted to resemble a bird. Opening this niche she placed the ring alongside her other prized possessions. Then, though overcome with fatigue, when she went back to her bed and lay down, she was too emotionally overwrought to sleep.

End of Part 3

PART 4 (The Conclusion)

Click to Hear a Reading of Part 4

(You can scroll down to read along.)

She woke up feeling listless and somewhat disoriented when the sun’s brilliant rays streamed into the room. She lay still with her eyes closed and lent half an ear to the bustling feet and muted but excited conversations of the attendants’ eager anticipation of the day’s events. They were bustling about, carefully selecting and rearranging the formal garments she would wear that day. After the family breakfast in the main hall, there was to be a prayer session that would be presided over by His Eminence, that old coot, in the Grand Chapel. In truth, hoping but doubting the validity of last night’s series of events and her brief encounter with her beloved Maviaku, she maintained the farce of sleep as long as possible so as to carefully mull over the facts.

The day‘s tedious ceremonies and events seemed to last forever, but as soon as she could, she seized the first available opportunity and snuck into her room, locked the door then proceeded to check the drawer. True enough, in there a strange blue garment was folded, but it was not gleaming or as extraordinary as she recalled. A moment later she fetched the ring from its hiding place and carefully examined it; running her fingers absently over the strange inscription underneath. She next brought out the moonstone bird and, caressing it, kissed its beak before placing it back.

The garment, despite its apparent simplicity, was secretly treasured by her. Thereon, after each Blue moon when everyone retired for the night she would, without fail, quietly don the blue garment and sit by the window waiting for her beloved to return. But he never did. As a small consolation she would feel his presence and warm embrace however, as she sat while the garment, basking under the moon’s rays, brilliantly glistened and came to life with countless dancing stars.

She was eventually forced to marry a Prince whose kingdom’s alliance was a political necessity. In time she bore three children. Her life in that other kingdom seemed surreal as she functioned within the parameters of acceptable behaviour for the wife of a Crown Prince who then became a King.

During these years, she never wavered once from her initial promise to her true beloved and wore the blue cloak every Blue Moon. She kept this secret well hidden from all, even her children. Her warmongering husband the King eventually met his demise during one of his campaigns. After the elaborate funeral, the widowed Queen was allowed to return to the Palace in her homeland after her son, the Crown Prince, took the reins of power.

Eventually old age claimed the dowager Queen but by then her two other children had been married off to suitable diplomatic advantage and were living elsewhere. On this night of her final Blue Moon she asked her close confidant to fetch the plain blue cloak for her and help her don it. In tears the other did as she was bid and, complying with her wishes, left her Majesty alone.

With some difficulty she retrieved the ring from its hiding place where it had lain for the many years since she had married. Finally the former Princess, now a dowager Queen, placed it on her fore-finger. Going over she sat by the window to await her beloved’s return.

This time he did come. He looked the same as before, not a day older. Her inhibition soon melted away when he reached forward and kissed her on the mouth, gently breathing his magical dragon’s breath into her parted lips. Instantly she was transformed into her young, vigorous, beautiful self. Better than her young self though, for she was now an immortal.

“Are you ready?” He asked lovingly.

“I’ve been ready all my life.” She smiled back at him.

He reached his hand to hold hers and muttered a spell.

Instantly she was transformed into a colourful songbird.

“I have so much to share, so much to teach you!” He elatedly laughed.

And then, with Maviaku leading the way, they flew together through the open window.

The following morning, when the chief attendant entered the Dowager Queen’s quarters to awaken Her Grace, there was no trace of either Her Majesty or the blue garment.

The End.

A Different Interpretation

A Different Interpretation

Once upon a time there was a self-proclaimed honest official. One the day he assumed his important office, he had this printed notice posted right by the door at his reception room.

The declaration of an honest official:

1. I have no true desire for money

2. I do not strive for a prestigious post

3. I do not fear death

A few days later the subsequent hand written amendments appeared below:

1. In negligible amounts

2. Unless its higher than the present one

3. However I would like to live as long as possible, if not forever

Fin

WHY THE CHIMES RANG

WHY THE CHIMES RANG

(Adapted from Raymond M. Alden- Re-written by BoSt) 

Click to Hear a Reading of This Story

(You can scroll down to read along.)

All acts of kindness however minuscule do not escape the notice of Heaven, even though they may go unnoticed here on Earth.

Once upon a time in a far off land there was a magnificent church set on a hilltop. Tall stained glass windows, placed specifically to catch best angles of the sun’s rays, depicted brilliantly executed religious scenes praising God Almighty’s power and extolling the virtues of the saints. Pious carpenters had painstakingly carved magnificent wooden reliefs above and to the sides of the main entrance. The Church’s most prominent feature however was the gray stone tower with ivy growing over it as far up as the eye can see. In the steeple an array of Christmas chimes was housed.

Every Christmas Eve all the inhabitants of the city, re-enacting an old tradition, flocked to this church bringing with them many offerings to the Christ Child. Legends told of a time when, after the greatest and best offering was laid on the altar, there arose above the voices of the choir a beautiful sound, emanating from the top of the tower the most divine music of the Christmas Chimes.

Some claimed it had to be the wind that rang them, while other more pious ones believed in their heart of hearts, and exclaimed loudly so, that it had to be the angels that set the bells swinging to produce that heavenly sound.

Then came a time when, however great the offerings were, the chimes never again created blissful melody. As a result people were saddened, feeling there must be something amiss. Yet many Christmases came and went and no chimes were heard.

It so happened that there was an old man living modestly with his wife Madonna, in a ramshackle hut not far from the notable church. This kind old man recalled a time when his mother had spoken to him of hearing the chimes when she was but a little girl. In her waning years she mourned the fact that people had grown less generous in their hearts with their gifts for the Christ Child. Love and compassion for their fellow man had diminished; pomp and ceremony, hand in hand with greed and ambition taking root instead. As a result, when an offering was made without the purest heart and intentions and it became only a show, it did not move the angels and justly did not merit the music of the chimes. If the old man voiced this mournful insight it unfortunately fell on deaf ears. Everyone dismissed him as a senile old man. When he died some years later his poor old widow Madonna was left to fend for herself in a cruel, cruel world.

In a remote country village a number of miles from the city there lived a boy named Pedro and his little brother Pepito. Their parents had been dead for more than a year and Pedro as the sole provider had done his best to support them. Pepito had overheard so much about the city’s Christmas celebrations that he pleaded and pleaded with his elder brother to take him to the church. Not having the heart to say no, Pedro bundled some dry rations, mainly hard bread, a clump of hard, moldy cheese and some grain, in a cloth then tied its ends and slung it over his shoulder. They set out at dawn, both dressed in several layers to escape the bitter, bone chilling cold and skins of water hung at their waists. The day before Christmas was bitterly cold with frigid temperatures plunging below zero and made worse by thrashing winds that whipped and punished any wayward soul who dared venture outside.

For untold hours the boys trudged to cover the great distance to the city. Huddled together, they walked hand in hand bending their backs to brace themselves against the strong winds. The icy drizzle mercilessly chilled them to the very marrow of their bones. By dusk they were tired, famished and exhausted, almost unable to take another step, yet the lights of the big city now visible just ahead, egged them to soldier on.

Panting, they at long last approached the gates of the city. Fortunately the gates were still wide open, expecting more visitors. As they were about to enter, Pedro spotted something dark on the snow off to the side of the road, and so veered off to take a closer look. It was a poor beggar woman who had obviously suffered a mishap and fallen into the shallow ditch. Stranded, she lay there half-dead, too sick and shivering with cold to rise up or call for help. Rushing over, Pedro helped her to sit up and draped his threadbare coat over her shoulders to bring her some warmth. She looked so pale and had difficulty speaking. He helped her take some tentative sips from his water skin. Then, looking up, he addressed his little brother, “It’s no use, Pepito. I can’t leave her in this condition. You go on ahead to the church.”

“Alone?” cried Pepito in a fearful voice. “No, I can’t. I can’t let you ... miss the Christmas Festival.”

“You are brave, just go on by yourself. I’ll be here when you come back. I can’t leave her.” Pedro answered sternly. He looked at her face and smiled encouragingly. “Poor old lady, her face looks like the Madonna in the chapel window.”

“Madonna” the old woman opened her tear stained eyes slightly and smiled at Pedro.

“Go on. I can’t leave her in this state; she will surely freeze to death if nobody stays with her.” Then Pedro reached deep into to his inner pocket and withdrew a treasured object for his little brother to take. Then with the choking sound of disappointment he added: “If you get a chance, little brother, to slip up to the altar without getting in anyone's way, please take this little copper piece of mine and lay it down as our offering when no one is looking. That way it will be the same as me going there. "

Pepito reluctantly left Pedro with a heavy heart. The great church was truly a magnificent place that night. The decorations, lights and glitter, all the displays, riches he’d never seen the like of before simply took his little breath away. A small urchin like himself was virtually invisible amidst the procession as they took their gifts for the Christ Child to the altar.

Some worshipers laid down wonderful jewels; some gave baskets with massive amounts of gold so heavy they could scarcely carry them down the aisle. A famed author laid down his prized work, a book he had, after many years, just completed.

Then the King appeared in all his majesty hoping, like the least petitioner, to win for himself the music of the Christmas chimes. A great murmur rippled through the church as the people witnessed the King taking his priceless golden crown, set with diamonds and rare precious gems, from his head and laying it to gleam on the alter as his offering to the Christ Child.

“Surely, “They intoned in unison, “Surely we shall hear the bells now.” But the chimes did not ring. Not even a whimper was heard. When the gifts were all on the altar, the choir began the closing hymn.

The disappointed crowd grumbling under their breath slowly began to disperse. Suddenly the organist stopped playing, and everyone looked aghast at the old Priest, who was holding up his hand for silence.

“What’s this?”

When the people strained their ears there came resonating through the air, softly but distinctly, the heavenly music of the chimes in the tower!

The divine music seemed so far away and yet so clear. The notes were so much sweeter than any sound they had ever heard. Melody rising and falling in the sky was so entrancing that the people in the church held their breath and stood perfectly still.

Then they all stood up together and stared at the altar, wanting to see what great gift had awakened these long-silent chimes. But all the nearest of them saw was the figure of Pepito, who had crept softly down the aisle, perfectly unseen and placed Pedro’s little piece of copper on the altar.

The End

Merry Christmas Everyone

Besting the Ghost

Besting the Ghost

By BoSt

To fall in love with someone special and then plan to share a life time with them through a bond of marriage is ideal. Often however considerations other than love come into play in marriages. In fact, it is still the custom for families in many countries to have an arranged marriage in order to augment political or economic status. But I digress. Let us just say, in the olden days this arranged marriage business was often the norm.

There was once a young couple who, after pomp and ceremony, settled in to live comfortably in a fine house with lots of land at the edge of town. As beloved children their families had seen to it that the couple would be compatible before they were married. Unfortunately many hidden vices surfaced after the marriage to disrupt their harmony. In time they were no more than two strangers barely speaking to each other but still living under one roof for the sake of appearances.

They thought they would be miserable forever, if only there were children to bridge this growing gap. But fate had other designs and before long, the couple’s strained but seemingly mundane life was seriously rocked with the onset of a grave illness that beset the young wife. Finally, after failed attempts to cure her, on the verge of expiring, the wife whispered to her husband in his feigned distress: “Dear husband, despite all your bad characteristics I still love you very much... Alas our time together was so cruelly interrupted.” She gasped a painful breath before resuming, “But marriage should be forever, here and in the hereafter...Promise me, after I leave you do not hasten from me to another woman. If you do, I shall find no rest and shall certainly return as a ghost and cause you endless trouble.”

Soon after this implied threat, the wife passed away. The husband at first respected her last wish and stayed celibate for some time, three months and two days to be exact. But then the loneliness drove him to seek the company of another. Chancing on an exquisite beauty at a small gathering, he became smitten at once. At first he observed her from afar in other social gatherings, and then he pushed for an introduction and gained a chance to converse with her. She was every bit as intelligent and artistic as she was beautiful. He could not help but fall deeply in love with her. This time through his own will they became engaged to be married. Immediately after the engagement party however a ghost appeared in his quarters that very night and continued on every night after that, with accusing words and gestures, blaming him for his breach of promise. The ghost was determined and angry as she related exactly what transpired between him and his new fiancé. Whenever he gave his new beloved a present or a token of their love, the ghost would describe in detail the particulars. She related, word for word all their private conversations. This so perturbed him that he suffered from a persistent case of insomnia. One of his close confidents advised him to take this problem to the local priest who lived in a seminary close to his home. He resisted this notion at first but as the problems persisted, he at long last went to the Priest seeking his help.

“Your former wife became a ghost and knows everything you do,” thoughtfully commented the Priest. “Whatever you do or say, whatever you give your fiancé, she knows of, you say? Hmm. She must be a very wise ghost. Really you should admire such a resourceful apparition. Here’s an idea; the next time she manifests, try bargaining with her. Tell her that, since she is so knowledgeable, you can obviously hide nothing from her and that if she can answer you one question, you will promise to break off the engagement immediately and content yourself thereafter to remaining single. “

“What is the question I must ask?” inquired the man.

“The Priest smiling replied: “Take a large handful of rice and ask her exactly how many grains of rice you hold in your hand. I she cannot tell you, you will know that she is only a figment of your imagination and upon this realization your trouble with the ghost should be no more.”

On the subsequent night, when the ghost again manifested, the man at first flattered her and told her that he was overawed that she knew everything.

“Indeed,” replied the ghost,” and furthermore, I also know that you went to see that Priest today.”

“I relent; but since you know so much,” demanded the man, “pray tell me how many grains of rice am I holding in my hand?”

There was no answer. The apparition simply vanished and from then on he saw no more ghost.

Fini.

The Giver Should Be Thankful

The Giver Should Be Thankful

The master of Engaku in Kamakura, Seisetsu was so well known for his teachings that many flocked to his tutelage. Consequently, the School’s accommodations became seriously overcrowded.

Umezu Sibei, a highly successful merchant of Edo, happened to be visiting the region and so paid a courtesy visit to the esteemed teacher. Noting the meagre lodgings of the school and feeling rather magnanimous he, on his return to his residence, made arrangements to donate five hundred pieces of gold (ryo) towards the construction of a more spacious school.

A few days later, his chest swelling with pride, Umezu revisited the school and personally handed the sack of gold over to the teacher Seiseutsu. But when Seisetsu simply received the amount with his matter-of-fact attitude and only the assertion: “All right. I will take it.”, Umezu became highly dissatisfied.

One can live a whole year on just three ryo, Umezu grumbled under his breath, yet I’ve not received not even a simple thank you for this magnanimous gift of five hundred ryo?

Refusing to take his leave, Umezu shifted uncomfortably and, after clearing his throat with a slight cough, added poignantly: “You know of course that in that sack are five hundred ryo?”

“Yes I know; you mentioned it previously.” Seisetsu replied impassively, turning to leave.

“Though I’m a wealthy merchant, five hundred ryo is still considered a hefty sum,” Umezu grumbled rather loudly.

“Do you wish a thank you for it?” Half turning, Seisetsu asked.

“Well, don’t you think you ought to?” responded Uzemu.

Seisetsu simply said: “Why? It’s the giver who should be thankful. ”

Fini