“The universe has presented your young son a challenge. He may petition the universe to remove the Darkness. Every day for a month he is to travel to the Mount and drink two sips of water. The poizun waters may kill the Darkness, but the possibility exists the waters may take his life before Darkness has the chance.”
“That is the hope you offer? Are you mad?”
The Sensei dropped his head. “Hope is our strongest weapon against Darkness. Man can only attack Darkness from the outside. Hope gives endurance. Hope builds character. Hope does not put us to shame. The hope must come from inside Katsuro to defeat Darkness.”
Katsuro’s mother let out a whimper and closed her eyes. The breeze played the wind chimes, the birds sang mating songs, and the hum of daily activities in the village warmed in the background. She shook her head, and said defiantly, “Why is this happening to Katsuro? He is but a child and has done no evil to deserve this untimely fate. His father and I are hardworking people of the village. Our ancestors left no sin for our son to pay by suffering.”
“Some say the universe trades good and evil to maintain balance. Some say the universe casts misfortune like rice in the wind. Misfortune is random. No fault of the individual is to blame.”
“The universe is not fair either way. By what logic should one so young and innocent be victim of such circumstances?”
“Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation. Taking any other path will be a waste of ki. Channel all positive energy in hope.”
Katsuro had remained silent, turning his gaze from the Sensei to his mother as they spoke. He had been able to follow the meaning of the Sensei’s words. His very life was in jeopardy. From as far back as he remembered he had been warned of the poizun waters of Mount Rousu. Drinking it was to tempt death. He suddenly realized he would be battling Darkness using death as a weapon. It was all he could do to find one single thread of hope inside.
***
The next day, Katsuro ate a quick meal and set out for the two hour journey. The Sensei commanded he travel alone. His parents and his friends would distract. In some instances even become a detriment by sharing foreboding fears of Darkness winning.
Time passed quickly and hope had brought him to the Mount without much delay from the growing weight of the chains of Darkness. Hot pools of poizun waters surrounded the base of the Mount. Some pools bubbled hot gases that made it hard for him to breathe.
Katsuro gingerly stepped along the rocks heated by ancient molten lava underground. Sweat poured down his face as he stooped and scooped poizun water with a wooden cup. He traced his steps back until on cool ground again and enjoyed the relief of a swift breeze.
The poizun water had cooled enough for him to drink. He raised the cup to his mouth and sniffed. The strange odor did seem medicinal in a way. It certainly opened his nostrils allowing him to breathe deeply. With the greatest of hope he could muster, he put the cup to his lips and took two sips before his stomach could protest.
His mouth felt like it had been slightly burned, not from the heat of the water, but by harshness of the poizun. A taste of fermenting egg lingered on his tongue. All in all drinking the water hadn’t been as terrible as he imagined. His hope increased by a small portion, and he turned to make the trip back home.
He looked up and saw the shortcut to the finish line, just like in his dream. At first he thought that none of his journey to Mount Rousu had been real. That again he was suffering a nightmare. But then his stomach wretched from the poizun water.
Katsuro doubled over in pain like he had never felt before. He dry heaved several times until everything from breakfast and perhaps anything left from the previous two days spilled onto the green grasses of the woods.
Blessed relief eventually came, and Katsuro was able to return to his feet. The shortcut to the finish line was still there. Two gold rings joined together resembling a figure 8 shown on the face of the mountain. An old man was there, waving with both hands high in the air. The old man looked familiar. Katsuro strained his eyes for a better look, and was shocked to recognize his grandfather.
His grandfather had been dead for more than two years. Oh, how Katsuro loved the time he and his grandfather had spent together. His grandfather would tell stories and teach him skills like how to tie knots in rope. The two had been nearly inseparable. Life had been so good until the day his grandfather went to sleep and never woke again.
There was his grandfather, calling Katsuro. They could be together once again. The universe whispered, and Katsuro realized the path led to the end of the race. A race his parents and everyone else ran. To take the shortcut and be with his grandfather meant he would no longer be able to run in the race. As badly as he wanted to be with his grandfather, the hope inside pushed him to remain with the others. Time would bring him and his grandfather together at some point, hope would not allow that to happen today.
Katsuro gave his grandfather a wave and began his travel back home. The Darkness inside or the effects of the poizun waters made him feel as if his feet were weighed down with stones. All the way home he kept the positive energy of hope utmost in mind, even when Darkness delivered blows to make him falter.
Nearing the edge of the village, Katsuro felt an ominous presence staring at him. He looked around and saw nothing, and then continued as fast as his weakened legs could carry him.
A tree branch snapped. He spun around and saw Darkness as a wide flat ribbon slink its way through the brush and over a fallen tree. A serpent-like head rose from the nearest end and threatened to strike.
Katsuro easily outran the Darkness and soon found himself at home. His mother had been waiting, and her face shown as bright as the noonday sun when she saw him. She pulled him close and held him like she would never let go.
“I was so worried for you, my son.”
“I did just like the Sensei told me. I kept hope in me. The poizun waters sought to steal it, but I fought back. Darkness tried to trick me and even overtake me, but my hope made me victorious.”
“I am so proud of you. Your father will be too.”
Katsuro swelled with pride, but the Darkness inside jabbed his neck with a sharp pain, reminding him the battle had just begun.
***
The pools of water bubbled by Mount Rousu. Today completed the month long regiment set by his Sensei for the cure. It had taken him over twice as long to make the journey than the day before, and he did not know by what miracle he had made it. It was the power of hope alone, as he questioned if he even had the strength to dip his cup for a last sip of the poizun water. His poor emaciated arms and legs shook greatly, so much so he found himself crawling along the rocks to the closest pool. The heat from the rocks felt as if they cooked his skin as he dipped his cup in the bubbling water. He only waited for a minute before drinking the burning liquid, not caring how much it hurt. Hope would have him complete his mission, even if it failed to save his life.
Katsuro left the cup behind as he crawled to the wood’s edge. His grandfather waved to him from the finish line—as he had done every day of his mission over the last month. Each time it had been harder for Katsuro to resist the solace of his grandfather’s loving embrace. Each time on the trip back to the village it had been harder for him to make the journey through the woods. And each time Darkness came closer and closer to claiming him as its victim giving chase.
Darkness appeared in front of Katsuro blocking his way as he bypassed the shortcut for his last trip home. He had managed to avoid Darkness from catching him all this time. How unfair it seemed to be so close and have victory snatched away at the last second.
Darkness pointed toward the shortcut.
Katsuro was still on his hands and knees, and defiantly rose to his feet to face his opponent.
Darkness held its position, refusing to give way to the young boy.
Katsuro’s grandfather called his name. The sad voice pulled at his heart like a fish caught in a hook.
Katsuro reached inside his remaining
light and pulled out two handfuls of hope. He grabbed the Darkness and folded it into a small rice cake. He then bit off a piece and chewed triumphantly. He ate until all Darkness was gone.
Katsuro’s grandfather faded in the distance. The shortcut to the finish line disappeared. Katsuro then collapsed to the ground. He became one with Darkness.
***
When Katsuro opened his eyes he found himself in his bed. His mother and the Sensei hovered over him with their eyes wide. Two of his best friends were in the room, one of them gasped.
“My son, you are back. It is so good to have you with us,” the Sensei said.
“I . . . ” Katsuro said, his mouth dry. “How did I get home?”
“You did not return from your final trip. Your father braved the woods at night and found you near Mount Rousu. When I saw you draped across his arms, I feared you dead,” his mother said.
“I think I was dead—or near it. I . . . I dreamed I was swimming in black water, using my hope to light the way home. My light grew dim, and I lost my way. From a long distance a bright dot of light appeared, showing me the way home. I swam and swam what seemed like hours—maybe days. When I reached the shore, I woke up.”
Katsuro’s father stepped into the room. He burst into tears and collapsed to his knees, bowing in thanks.
“You were saved by your hope. The hope of others offered a lifeline for you to grasp. Misfortune has been thwarted by the combined hope of all,” the Sensei said, smiling broadly.
Katsuro heard the Sensei’s words but understood things on a deeper level. Hope had saved him, true, but he knew hope was never enough to save all those stricken by Darkness. He was one of the fortunate ones. Had he been forced down the shortcut to meet his grandfather, he would have moved on to the next great purpose.
Hope had put him back in the race. He would cherish each step from this day forward, no matter what obstacle the universe put in his way.
GODDESS OF THE MOXIE MOON
In The Enchanted Gardens of the World
Absolutely*Kate
Absolutely*Kate? Prolific noir-fantasy-thriller Author/Promoter. She listens to shadows, believes in believers, has Moxie. World needs more moxie.
Published where thrillers come to enchant, Absolutely*Kate’s words grace —ACTION: PULSE POUNDING TALES, GRIMM TALES, and FEMME FATALES. While debut novel, HOLY MOXIE! intrigues underway, she stirs inky-shadows @ NoirNation, proudly presents *AT THE BIJOU* + Authors’Rising, sparks VegaWire Media as Developmental-Editor. Meanwhile, by-the-sea, A*K produces/promotes THE SHADOWS OF OUR NOIR and HARBINGER*33. Her words dance decades of distinction when men were tough, dames tougher.
Absolutely*Kate—such as this worthy book—is a Survivor, not kicked off the isle, (conquered rare Paget’s cancer with Joy Therapy = 9 years!) She encourages Trust vs hope, Empowering vs mere cope. She thanks you for reading her—but you knew that.
Once upon Time ~ a rich, ripe time ago, things did not grow as good growing things should grow ~
Deep green menacing hands stretched from wedges of hedges in The Enchanted Gardens of the World. They gripped and grabbed and grappled, hard and mean, barely seen, at wayward arms and legs that ambled by. My oh my, how they were rooted in vile evil, which is essentially the same word once its letters go shifty. They stemmed discontent. They rabbled and roused the most innocent with malevolent intent. Amazing the maze of their labyrinth . . . hellbent. They tendriled their way to get their way. They sprouted and spread invasive dread and tried with their might in the growth of the night to take over whole lush, fertile patches of The Enchanted Gardens, The Enchanted Gardens of the Worlds we loved.
Strategic patches. Spreading patches. With corruption at core, dastardly the Damnation Critters conjured and connived. Foul and forceful their quest did thrive, conquering the hardiest contingents of Spirit Sprites from Budapest. The heartiest too, in Kalamazoo. ‘Twas dreadful, I tell you. Dreadful in the dark of night, the trail of terror branching fright—threatening all breathing true, endangering those exhaling right. All who entered the world’s Enchanted Gardens . . . not expecting, nor prepared—met mad-mazed assault—attacking venomously ‘neath leaf and limb.
Attacking her, attacking him.
Caught unawares, what were the playful to do? What of valiant sons who came for sun and darling daughters for damp of dew? For that matter—What of Me? What of You? Did you hear? Do you fear? I did. I do.
I heard the screams—all ‘cross town, up and down central avenues, caught in corners, breaking bends. Terror screams, I tell you. Mean nasty means to no good ends. Not the stuff of streetcorners named Desire.
***
Madcap Mischief Morphed Machismo
First the Damnation Critters of the world’s Enchanted Gardens poisoned the ivy. Then they forced the forsythia. They made ugly the bella donna. The crab’s eye did bleed, despite how the rosary pea weed tried divinely to intercede. Glossy red was its potent seed, a trick of temptatious nature filling what beckoned delight with the wicked poison abrin. It convulsed fatally those who came down yesterday’s paved path, to stop today—and smell the posies. They danced dizzy, traipsed rings ‘round the rosies . . . then vomiting horrendously, they all fell down.
No glory for the morning glories, no merry for the marigolds when invasive monkshood and wolfbane shadowed their hues of yellows and blues. Numbing, tingling and disabled nerves lowered blood pressure, stopped good hearts flat. Yesterday was then. Today was a horrified that. No warning, no cause. How could this be?
On an island in the sea, the sea of AhAdha, a little girl knelt in the sand, crouched intently before an iridescent box of lapis lazuli. The little girl clutched a key, a silver key, a pretty key. The key hung low, from a long, shimmery chain, a bead of turquoise here, opal and topaz there—and there. The girl was a curious girl. Pandy Orah was her name. Getting in trouble, like the Sanskrit name of her sea, unfortunately was her fame.
When forbidden to wander into harm’s way, she scampered so, anyway. When scolded not to taunt, she stuck out her tongue, stomped her little pair of huaraches and mercilessly pestered those smaller she deemed more helpless than she. Kittens ran, puppies whimpered, mice made for holes not even there. Yes, Pandy Orah was all about stirring about—to the innocent and defenseless—an unnecessary scare.
The tiny silver key swung like a pondering pendulum from the bejeweled chain on which it hung. It shimmered in the dusk’s light breeze. It captured quick last rays of the setting sun. Seemed to hold them there. As if light could hold off the coming dark. Nice illusion, but illusions never spark what they seem. Pandy Orah intended to complete her scheme while her wise Uncle Matt slept fast upon his reed-woven rush mat. As Uncle Matt slept fast, Pandy Orah lifted slow the glimmery chain. Once purloined from his neck, the little girl with big plans showed no shame. She’d stolen before and gotten her way. Figured it an easy deal again, this way. Unlock the box, pocket the treasure, replace the chain, cavort to the sea in leisure.
Wasn’t fate that date. Upon the shores of the sea of AdAdha, Pandy Orah used the tiny silver key to turn the lock and open the lid and peer within to where she thought the cool stuff hid. Trouble was, the box was hot. Like the Sanskrit name of the sea, it had been wrongly taken from its rightful owner, one Carma Delmonico, at a little pita pie stall at Lundi’s market. Carma made more than pita pies. Carma cast spells with evil eyes. She had on Monday at Lundi’s . . . at the back of the head which wobbled on scrawny shoulders of the man just fled. It wasn’t good Uncle Matt. It had been evil Uncle Ed.
I heard the turn-around of this tale later. My cohort Lily worked Lundi’s at the rough-hewn stall across the way. Lil sells elegant bags made from gators. She witnessed the whole shebang. Fast as a gazelle, she leaped through jostling crowds at Lundi’s Market to ID Carma’s nemesis.
“Hah!” Carma guffawed. “The joke’s on that filthy theif Ed. If he opens the bartered box I got to even the odds on my cheating lover Fred, he’ll discover his share of Dread! What goes
around, comes around,” Carma smirked and said. She did offer Lily her choice of sourdough, foccacio, pumpernickel, naan, ciabatta, kuchen or rye. “A good woman friend rises like yeast,” she said with a wink on the wry. “It takes time to create what’s nourishing, but a second to let damage fly.”
Damage did fly. In a vortex of a swirl, brown-tinged charcoal whorls escaped from the lapis lazuli box. How wretchedly wild—the spirit of evil gone ‘whoooosh’. Damnation Critters of burnt umber and gritty grey ravaged high, a furious flurry of malcontent, lost in the cooling winds of evening sky. Damage continued to fly. A particle of rusty iron, flaked off from the inner corner of the lapis lazuli box—and flew smack dab into overly curious Pandy Orah’s left eye. I remembered later, after hearing the tale from my pal Matt, what Lily had predicted, concerning that. ‘The Left indicates one’s past. The Right, one’s future.’
I re-recalled Lil’s prophecy to Matt and he countered with a soft, slow, appealing laugh. I’d tell you more about my wise historian pal Matt, but that’s another story, another time. Not this time. There’s still danger in the Enchanted Gardens of the World. You know, where the Damnation Critters came to settle.
“Now there’s a pun to punish a nasty-natured past,” moralized island scholar Matt. “Curiousity didn’t kill the cat, nor the kittens. Lifting a lid was that tormenting girl’s comeuppance!” He paused, ever kind to balance a thought or even one of his good moralizings. “Perhaps now, she’ll stand a rightful chance.”
Wise Uncle Matt still watches over little Pandy Orah, more so as she’s blind in one eye. The kittens, puppies and even the mice now play nice, untroubled along the sea of AdAdha. Evil Ed? Bit into a currant of mold from Carma’s day-old bread. Heat’s real tough out near the equatorial sea of AdAdha. Ed’s dead.
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