Black Static #41 Horror Magazine (Jul-Aug 2014) by TTA Press

Author:TTA Press [TTA Press]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: TTA Press
Published: 2014-07-24T00:00:00+00:00

“Why the storehouse?” She gave the sticks one more shake and then scattered them across the floor.

•••

Kumo-harai was rinsing off his broom in the river when the travelling mendicant first arrived. He was darkly tanned, lean and long-muscled. And filthy. Kumo-harai crouched by a hydrangea bush and with a stick quietly pretended to remove the more obstinate threads of spider web buried deep in the bristles of his broom. He observed the stranger from the corner of his eye.

The stranger placed his staff and pack on a rock. He removed his leggings and sandals and stripped down to his fundoshi. He untied his cone-shaped hat and used it to cover his belongings. Finally, he removed a small length of twine from his hair before he climbed a boulder and plunged head first into the icy water. Kumo-harai watched him swim, temporarily forgetting his made-up task.

After some time the man returned to the shallow bank and stood, his long black hair falling down to the small of his back. He rubbed his body and face with handfuls of soft sand until the grime and dust that had accumulated from his travels disappeared and his skin shone red. He cupped his hands and drank deeply from the river.

“You, over there!” the stranger called, turning to face Kumo-harai. He was beautiful. “This is the best tasting water I’ve had since Joanji in Shima. There must be magic in those mountains.”

Kumo-harai rose, took a step and stumbled. He didn’t think he’d been seen. Had the stranger known he was being watched the whole time? Maybe he was talking to someone else. Kumo-harai looked over both shoulders. The dark man laughed.

“Is that your temple up there?” He pointed to the silver-tiled roof visible through the trees.

Kumo-harai shouldered his broom and nodded.

“You don’t talk, do you?”

Kumo-harai did talk. He just wasn’t used to being talked to. The monks didn’t speak often, and other than the tofu seller who delivered the morning meal there was really no one except the birds and the insects and the murmuring spirits that rattled the wooden grave tablets to converse with.

Before the day ended in purple and blue, Kumo-harai learned the mendicant was called Jin, the son of a paper maker up north in Echigo. Five years ago an outbreak of smallpox ravaged his town and he lost his entire family. Heartbroken, he renounced his trade and possessions and set out to travel down Japan visiting every one of the sixty-six holy sites.

When Kumo-harai asked what he was searching for, Jin said that he didn’t know, that maybe he was running from something or towards something, but the real answer was probably that he was simply afraid. Kumo-harai fell asleep that night admiring deeply this stranger and wondering why his own kind of fear didn’t encourage movement but left him too scared to do anything at all.

•••

Kumo-harai discovered they were the same age, although Jin looked much older with his sunburned, lined face and the slight limp he’d taken on from his years of travelling.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.