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Prolific Writer
Join Date: Mar 2005
Location: London, uk
Gender: Male
Posts: 444
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The Sickness
This is the latest short from my series inspired by an album. I'm not sure if this is finished. I'm in two minds weather to leave it as is, or to force my way ahead. I have everything I wanted in here but the ending doesn't sound right. Opinions and advice always welcome.
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Yoshikuni Kaito dragged himself through the woodland undergrowth, his war wounds stinging painfully as his life dripped away with each drop of spilt blood. Some had said it was a miracle that he was even alive; others shunned him for it. But Kaito knew why he was still alive. Within his deteriorating heart the flame for his one true love, Miharu, still burned.
Six months ago the Daimyo had sent his Shogun through every little town in the province to enlist unwilling farmers to the ranks of his army. Kaito had been one of these unwilling Ashigaru. It was rumoured, within the camp where he was stationed, that the Daimyo feared a peasant uprising of some sort; that the lower-class were beginning to outnumber the Samurai by an uncontrollable margin. It was also mentioned within this same rumour that the Daimyo had deliberately raged war against a neighbouring province as a means of culling these peasants before any treasonous thoughts crept into their minds. He had no intention of winning the war. It was murder. Murder of which the Daimyo would take no responsibility.
Kaito continued forward through the forest of pines and Sugi, their overhanging branches darkening the evening light to an oppressing gloom. He knew he was nearly home for he knew these woods well. Only too well. He knew of the beasts that nature allowed to play here… and of the beasts that she didn’t.
It was as he emerged from the forest onto the hilly plains, stained blood-red by the setting sun, that Kaito knew something was wrong. Firstly, it was too quiet. This time of the evening there should be the buzz of excited children working on the farmland with their forever-groaning parents.
Second, the air was filled with a strange, sickly odour. Kaito recognised the smell but it’s scent here on his home had thrown him off. He couldn’t quite conjure up the image that the smell reminded him of. And then it hit him. It was the same smell that had permeated off the battlefield. It was the smell of death.
Kaito gave a start at the sound of a loud buzzing noise as it zipped past his ear. He gripped the katana in the hilt and was ready to take on… He looked around. Take on who? There was nobody there.
He continued walking, more cautiously now, towards the village, his hand flexing on his sword. Squinting into the low sun, Kaito could just make out jumping shadows in the village streets. Covering his eyes to block out the sun, he cautiously, curiously, stepped forward. The laughing, cawing that that suddenly tore through the silence caused Kaito to withdraw the katana with a start.
It was as he slowly neared that he realised that the cawing had come from a large, black crow. It was sitting on the chest of a dead, rotting woman, pecking at her meaty brain through the holes of her eye sockets. It looked up and stared at Kaito, then laughed in it’s hoarse, raucous voice.
“Tengu,” Kaito whispered under his breath. Gripping the katana tightly in his hands, Kaito ran screaming towards the carrion eating bird. The crow cawed angrily, but took off nonetheless, squawking in protest as it flew low across the dusty street.
And as the crow flew away, so a whole flock of them took off from the ground. It was only then that Kaito saw the whole horror that had befallen his home town. The street was littered with the unrecognisable, half-eaten corpses of people he had once known and grown up with.
The crows converged at the far end of the street, their beady eyes pointed towards the returning, wounded Ashigaru. Kaito stared back, his Katana ready to smite them from the air if need be.
“Yoshikuni Kaito,” croaked an old, broken, voice.
Kaito glanced in the direction of the voice and saw a withered old lady sitting, cross-legged in an open doorway. “Grandma,” Kaito uttered.
“I’ll see you soon, grandson.”
“What do you mean? I’m right here,” Kaito gestured with his hands. “I’m back grandma. I’m home.”
“She can’t see you, or hear you,” came a hoarse voice from behind Kaito. He turned with a start. Emerging from the black congregation of crows rose a dark figure. He hovered above the crows with wings that beat so fast as to emit a loud humming noise. In the blink of an eye he hovered before Kaito.
“Tengu,” Kaito whispered in fear.
The Tengu had a black crows head, it’s beak lined with razor sharp teeth. It’s body was human in shape and covered in feathers but it’s hands were brittle and clawed.
“She will see and hear you soon,” the Tengu said in it’s raucous voice. “When she dies in the land of the living she will pass over to here where she will await the fate of the rest of this town.”
“What has happened here?” There was more than a croak of fear in Kaito’s voice.
“Your precious home has been struck with a deadly plague,” the Tengu laughed. Behind him the crows joined in with his laughter, their harsh voices scratching at Kaito’s mind. “All these bodies you see before you are victims of the plague. It is the job of my children and myself to clean this mess up.”
“You mean this is the afterlife?”
The Tengu laughed hard. “Of course not. Do you really think we’d let the plague-ridden enter there? No, of course not.”
“Why am I here? I didn’t die.”
“Oh, but you did. You died in the forest from your wounds and I’m afraid you’re stuck here for eternity as you entered here on your own free will. Long after we have cleaned up, you will still be wandering around forever alone.” The Tengu found this highly amusing and laughed so hard he had tears coming from his beady bird-like eyes.
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