Still Life and Other Stories by Junzo Shono

Author:Junzo Shono [Shono, Junzo]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Japan, Junzo Shono, Japanese Culture
ISBN: 1880656027
Publisher: Stone Bridge Press
Published: 1998-07-01T04:30:00+00:00

Woodshed

it had barely begun to sprinkle when I first arrived at the inn, but it turned into a steady downpour just moments after the innkeeper had led me out the other side of the dirt-floored entryway and through the garden to the small cottage where I would stay. I could hardly step out for a look around town in this kind of weather.

The one-room cottage stood apart from the main building of the inn, next to an old storehouse. When I opened the curtains I found myself looking through the branches of an apple tree at a neighboring farmer’s vegetable field.

“If this keeps up,” I mumbled to myself, “I’ll have to stay right here all afternoon.” My watch showed a little past two-thirty.

I put my coat on a hanger and sat down at the kotatsu. The cord stretched up to the light fixture overhead.

The cottage was apparently of a more recent date than the rest of the inn. The tatami still smelled fresh, and the ceilings and walls looked almost new. Instead of the outbuilding of an old country inn, the room suggested something more like the night watchman’s quarters of a junior high school, and the small vanity table set against the wall seemed oddly out of place.

I felt a bit let down. When I’d first seen the well-weathered building from the road, I had envisioned being shown into a quiet, restfully old-fashioned room. Also, now that it had started to rain in earnest, being separated from the main building meant I was completely cooped up. To make matters worse, the room had neither a phone nor a call button. It was simply not a very convenient arrangement for anything.

After a short while I heard a door open and close. The sound seemed to come from directly behind my room. I heard some voices.

Perhaps the cottage was set right up against the neighbor’s house, I thought.

Then there were other noises. It sounded like a farmer putting things away in his toolshed.

What could be back there? I wondered.

Voices came again, and I tried to make out what they were saying, but they broke off almost right away—like some insignificant exchange between family. Then silence.

Across the back wall were a closet and a cupboard. At one end of the cupboard was a set of drawers. They were inlaid and obviously belonged to a different age, as if a piece of the main building had wandered astray and found its way here. I opened them, but they were empty.

If I’d known this would happen, I could have stayed on the train. I could have waited until evening to get off and find an inn, instead of stopping practically at midday in this tiny town. In fact, I might even have chosen to go straight back to Tokyo without stopping anywhere, since I had already accomplished most of what I’d planned to do on this trip.

But it had seemed worth a stop of one more night to have a look at this forgotten post town along the old highway, left behind by history.

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