May 31, 2012
May 24, 2012
Flight of the Warrior Chapter 7- Black heart on a black horse
He rode a black horse, given to him for his bravery during the war.
He had been a samurai in the cavalry, skilled in both yabusame and the sword. He was one of the few who could ride and shoot a bow, then jump from his horse and fight hand to hand or with his katana. They called him the shourisha because his arrival to the battlefield, no matter how hopeless it was, meant a victory for his side. He seemed to wield some sort of magic.
He was a tall man at over six feet. He was unlike the other samurai who were shorter, but he had their quickness. And he was a ronin, he answered to no-one. He fought in battle for the sheer glory of killing. Because of his status he was able to move from place to place and no daimyo ever refused him food or shelter.
He was returning from collecting a fee for his services during the war. He had demanded the overlord's daughter together with the fee. She was very pretty, but she was weak and acquiesced to him all too easily. She had cried and begged for mercy. He left her very early in the night, not even desiring her more than the once. In fact he could not even be bothered to finish her. She would probably do that herself anyway.
He wanted the one who fought him, the one who resisted. His toraneko.
So he had left the overlord's home in the late hours of the night and took to his black horse. He could have flown, but he needed time to decide what he would do with her. He needed a plan.
She had come into his life by accident. He had been flying on a beautiful night, lit by the moon. He could smell jasmine on the wind. He turned and traced the fragrance through the air. He saw her immediately, standing on the ground. She appeared to be sprinting and taking off, then landing and repeating the movement like a drill. He decided to watch her for a while.
Peasant girls almost never appealed to him. They had little to offer a man of his class. But this one seemed different, and it was only when she flew closer to him did he realise. She was a takokujin.
So when he flew straight at her, knocking her to the ground, he had acted out of opportunity. And he had not been disappointed.
She was fiery, she fought him every moment. In fact, she had gotten away from him when he had planned to keep her for a little while. Flying that night and seeing her had been a happy co-incidence. To make the experience even more beguiling, he discovered she had been wearing a light nightdress under her traveling robes. She had refused to answer him when he asked her why, she had held up her chin and bit down on her lip.
He felt that she had been put there in that moment just for him. A present from Hachiman, the god of war.
As he rode towards her hut, he wondered exactly what it was that he wanted to do. He most certainly did not want to kill her, at least not yet. So he must not get carried away. It was an inspired moment when he had cursed her and he had felt the benefits of his work already. She had clearly been touched by another. He was connected to her in that way now. Her pain was his pleasure.
So perhaps he would go to her hut, stay the night and see what happened. The idea of it fqilled him with a wild feeling.
He spurred on the black horse, pushing the beast through the night and well into the next day.
He arrived at her hut, and was about to dismount when he felt the approach of another man. He pulled his horse behind a tree and watched as the man came to the door of the hut. The hair stood up on the back of his neck. He resisted the urge to fly out and cut the man's head cleanly from his shoulders with his katana. He noticed the frame of the man, he was his equal in height and build and he wore a short and long sword. Most certainly a soldier. Better to stay hidden and see what happened. He could always take care of him later.
The man knocked on the door, stood for a moment and then slowly exhaled letting his forehead rest against the heavy wood. He heard him utter, "Gone." Studying this man he realised he was the suitor. He must be, why else would he be so disappointed she was not there?
Before he could remove his sword to take care of it, the man was gone. In fact he did not even see where he went. In a moment of panic he spun around trying to figure out what had happened. Was this some sort of trick? Was this an ambush?
Minutes passed and he was still not sure what had occurred. He was certain of one thing, if he should cross paths with this man again, he would use the upmost caution.
He decided to head toward the village. He would see if anyone knew her whereabouts, and perhaps he would take a local girl to ease his passion. The nobility in this area where known for their hospitality. He would avail himself of what they could offer.
And then he would find her, and make her pay for fleeing. She must learn that he was the master of her now- the shourisha.
He sent a message on the wind I am coming for you.
He had been a samurai in the cavalry, skilled in both yabusame and the sword. He was one of the few who could ride and shoot a bow, then jump from his horse and fight hand to hand or with his katana. They called him the shourisha because his arrival to the battlefield, no matter how hopeless it was, meant a victory for his side. He seemed to wield some sort of magic.
He was a tall man at over six feet. He was unlike the other samurai who were shorter, but he had their quickness. And he was a ronin, he answered to no-one. He fought in battle for the sheer glory of killing. Because of his status he was able to move from place to place and no daimyo ever refused him food or shelter.
He was returning from collecting a fee for his services during the war. He had demanded the overlord's daughter together with the fee. She was very pretty, but she was weak and acquiesced to him all too easily. She had cried and begged for mercy. He left her very early in the night, not even desiring her more than the once. In fact he could not even be bothered to finish her. She would probably do that herself anyway.
He wanted the one who fought him, the one who resisted. His toraneko.
So he had left the overlord's home in the late hours of the night and took to his black horse. He could have flown, but he needed time to decide what he would do with her. He needed a plan.
She had come into his life by accident. He had been flying on a beautiful night, lit by the moon. He could smell jasmine on the wind. He turned and traced the fragrance through the air. He saw her immediately, standing on the ground. She appeared to be sprinting and taking off, then landing and repeating the movement like a drill. He decided to watch her for a while.
Peasant girls almost never appealed to him. They had little to offer a man of his class. But this one seemed different, and it was only when she flew closer to him did he realise. She was a takokujin.
So when he flew straight at her, knocking her to the ground, he had acted out of opportunity. And he had not been disappointed.
She was fiery, she fought him every moment. In fact, she had gotten away from him when he had planned to keep her for a little while. Flying that night and seeing her had been a happy co-incidence. To make the experience even more beguiling, he discovered she had been wearing a light nightdress under her traveling robes. She had refused to answer him when he asked her why, she had held up her chin and bit down on her lip.
He felt that she had been put there in that moment just for him. A present from Hachiman, the god of war.
As he rode towards her hut, he wondered exactly what it was that he wanted to do. He most certainly did not want to kill her, at least not yet. So he must not get carried away. It was an inspired moment when he had cursed her and he had felt the benefits of his work already. She had clearly been touched by another. He was connected to her in that way now. Her pain was his pleasure.
So perhaps he would go to her hut, stay the night and see what happened. The idea of it fqilled him with a wild feeling.
He spurred on the black horse, pushing the beast through the night and well into the next day.
He arrived at her hut, and was about to dismount when he felt the approach of another man. He pulled his horse behind a tree and watched as the man came to the door of the hut. The hair stood up on the back of his neck. He resisted the urge to fly out and cut the man's head cleanly from his shoulders with his katana. He noticed the frame of the man, he was his equal in height and build and he wore a short and long sword. Most certainly a soldier. Better to stay hidden and see what happened. He could always take care of him later.
The man knocked on the door, stood for a moment and then slowly exhaled letting his forehead rest against the heavy wood. He heard him utter, "Gone." Studying this man he realised he was the suitor. He must be, why else would he be so disappointed she was not there?
Before he could remove his sword to take care of it, the man was gone. In fact he did not even see where he went. In a moment of panic he spun around trying to figure out what had happened. Was this some sort of trick? Was this an ambush?
Minutes passed and he was still not sure what had occurred. He was certain of one thing, if he should cross paths with this man again, he would use the upmost caution.
He decided to head toward the village. He would see if anyone knew her whereabouts, and perhaps he would take a local girl to ease his passion. The nobility in this area where known for their hospitality. He would avail himself of what they could offer.
And then he would find her, and make her pay for fleeing. She must learn that he was the master of her now- the shourisha.
He sent a message on the wind I am coming for you.
May 21, 2012
Quarante
Last night was a wee gathering to celebrate my acsendancy to
'quarante' (I have decided it sounds better in french), staying at
the lovely Art Series Hotel- The Blackman.
May 19, 2012
Almost time to start again
"Every year on your birthday, you get a chance to start anew."
Sammy Hagar
Sammy Hagar
May 6, 2012
Flight of the Warrior Chapter 6 - The first warning
She had flown back to the
hut, tears streaming down her face the whole way. She was lost and the
man who could help her had thought her a liar. He had tested her in a crude way.
She had tried since the attack to balance her reactions to men. They were not all like him. Some were kind and gentle like the physician who helped her when she was in a desperate state. But here was another example that she should not trust.
She had gone to find him with many questions. Most remained unanswered.
But she had figured out for herself something that had perplexed her. In the trackers presence, particularly when she was close to him, or he touched her, she had felt physically ill at worst and at best dreadfully lethargic. This had never happened before with any man, and there had been a couple. But then she had not been close to any man since the attack with the exception of the Physician and she was already unwell when he treated her.
At first she thought it to be a lack of courage. But sitting with the tracker around his small fire, she had unwittingly recalled what the man had done and said after he had assaulted her.
She had fought for twenty minutes before he threw her against a boulder. Twenty long minutes, ten of those with her jian. But he had a much longer reach with his katana, and with each block she grew tired. He was so much stronger. The slash down her side had been vicious but precise. She had released her grip on her jian to hold her nightdress together. That was all it took. Laughing at her he was upon her in a second. She had struck him with her fist, and the blow hit home opening the skin above the eye. He had smiled. "Toraneko, I like that."
She had been flung, almost tossed as if she weighed nothing at all face down on the boulder. He had been rough, exceptionally rough, her hip and rib bones grinding into the hard stone. She felt as if she was being ripped apart. When he was done, he turned her over and she thought with horror he was going to do it all over again. He pushed the hair back from her face. She wished he hadn't, it was the only thing between her and those dark eyes.
They cut her, invaded her soul.
So it was to her surprise that after pushing the hair back from her face that he had kissed her, passionately. "Mine now my little toraneko. No other man can have you." He had said this to her in a coarse whisper, breathing the hot words into her lungs he was so close. Making it hard for her to hold onto sanity. She felt as if she was slipping into madness. He was branding her. Searing his mark on her.
At the time she thought he had meant that she would never be able to let another man touch her. She would be so harmed when he had finished with her, that she would never be whole again.
After the kiss and his little speech he had hit her hard across the side of the head. She had rolled off the rock and fallen heavily on the ground, so strong was the blow. She had glanced up at him, trying to push herself up onto her feet. She had learned in training that the ground was a bad place to be, she was vulnerable there. But he was so strong it seemed to matter little what defensive position she put herself in. He had laughed at her again. And she felt a wave of anger invigorate her. As she stood up she grabbed a rock, a little bigger than her hand, and she threw it hard at his head. She aimed for his nose, figuring if she was off target she might still hit. He saw it, managing to move a little but too late to avoid it all together. She heard a sickening crack as the rock hit his temple. He fell to the ground and she ran fast for her jian that lay a few feet away, close to her traveling robes. He had grabbed her ankle somehow and dragged her to the ground. She kicked furiously with her free leg. She heard him say over and over "Fight little toraneko". Then somehow she got her ankle free and had the jian in her hand running away from the boulder, from the man who had taken what was not his, as fast as her legs would carry her.
She had been terrified flying away from him. She knew he was the better flyer and hoped that the rock had caused some sort of concussion. She needed some advantage to fall her way. She did not hear him on the wind again that night and made it to safety. She had been taken in by some kind people. They had helped her and she would always be grateful for that. She had blocked from her memory those words, spoken as bacteria she had no choice but to take in with her breath.
She was back at her hut now and the painful memories had passed. But the realisation had hit her. She was branded.
She had no idea if he had intended to let her live. Perhaps it was a sick game he wanted to play, take her, curse her and then release her. Let her suffer. knowing she would always be his. Then to come back one day, the tracker certainly thought he would. She sat on her bed trying to calm herself.
He was going to come back to claim what was his. She knew she could not go through that again. If the tracker could find her.... she had to leave, and leave now. The sudden urgency of her predicament fired her with action. She had to go.
She packed a few belongings and some food hastily. Her hands shook and she had difficulty putting everything into the small satchel. She almost ran through the door, slamming it behind her. A blast of cold air hit her face, and she felt as if she had been slapped. It stopped her instantly.
It was a warning. This time she felt it with clarity. He is coming for you the wind whispered from the east.
She ran and launched off a small knoll to the side of the hut. She flew low over the valley, then past the small village where she was known, where it was easy for her to be found.
She fled north to the big city, to Edo.
She had tried since the attack to balance her reactions to men. They were not all like him. Some were kind and gentle like the physician who helped her when she was in a desperate state. But here was another example that she should not trust.
She had gone to find him with many questions. Most remained unanswered.
But she had figured out for herself something that had perplexed her. In the trackers presence, particularly when she was close to him, or he touched her, she had felt physically ill at worst and at best dreadfully lethargic. This had never happened before with any man, and there had been a couple. But then she had not been close to any man since the attack with the exception of the Physician and she was already unwell when he treated her.
At first she thought it to be a lack of courage. But sitting with the tracker around his small fire, she had unwittingly recalled what the man had done and said after he had assaulted her.
She had fought for twenty minutes before he threw her against a boulder. Twenty long minutes, ten of those with her jian. But he had a much longer reach with his katana, and with each block she grew tired. He was so much stronger. The slash down her side had been vicious but precise. She had released her grip on her jian to hold her nightdress together. That was all it took. Laughing at her he was upon her in a second. She had struck him with her fist, and the blow hit home opening the skin above the eye. He had smiled. "Toraneko, I like that."
She had been flung, almost tossed as if she weighed nothing at all face down on the boulder. He had been rough, exceptionally rough, her hip and rib bones grinding into the hard stone. She felt as if she was being ripped apart. When he was done, he turned her over and she thought with horror he was going to do it all over again. He pushed the hair back from her face. She wished he hadn't, it was the only thing between her and those dark eyes.
They cut her, invaded her soul.
So it was to her surprise that after pushing the hair back from her face that he had kissed her, passionately. "Mine now my little toraneko. No other man can have you." He had said this to her in a coarse whisper, breathing the hot words into her lungs he was so close. Making it hard for her to hold onto sanity. She felt as if she was slipping into madness. He was branding her. Searing his mark on her.
At the time she thought he had meant that she would never be able to let another man touch her. She would be so harmed when he had finished with her, that she would never be whole again.
After the kiss and his little speech he had hit her hard across the side of the head. She had rolled off the rock and fallen heavily on the ground, so strong was the blow. She had glanced up at him, trying to push herself up onto her feet. She had learned in training that the ground was a bad place to be, she was vulnerable there. But he was so strong it seemed to matter little what defensive position she put herself in. He had laughed at her again. And she felt a wave of anger invigorate her. As she stood up she grabbed a rock, a little bigger than her hand, and she threw it hard at his head. She aimed for his nose, figuring if she was off target she might still hit. He saw it, managing to move a little but too late to avoid it all together. She heard a sickening crack as the rock hit his temple. He fell to the ground and she ran fast for her jian that lay a few feet away, close to her traveling robes. He had grabbed her ankle somehow and dragged her to the ground. She kicked furiously with her free leg. She heard him say over and over "Fight little toraneko". Then somehow she got her ankle free and had the jian in her hand running away from the boulder, from the man who had taken what was not his, as fast as her legs would carry her.
She had been terrified flying away from him. She knew he was the better flyer and hoped that the rock had caused some sort of concussion. She needed some advantage to fall her way. She did not hear him on the wind again that night and made it to safety. She had been taken in by some kind people. They had helped her and she would always be grateful for that. She had blocked from her memory those words, spoken as bacteria she had no choice but to take in with her breath.
She was back at her hut now and the painful memories had passed. But the realisation had hit her. She was branded.
She had no idea if he had intended to let her live. Perhaps it was a sick game he wanted to play, take her, curse her and then release her. Let her suffer. knowing she would always be his. Then to come back one day, the tracker certainly thought he would. She sat on her bed trying to calm herself.
He was going to come back to claim what was his. She knew she could not go through that again. If the tracker could find her.... she had to leave, and leave now. The sudden urgency of her predicament fired her with action. She had to go.
She packed a few belongings and some food hastily. Her hands shook and she had difficulty putting everything into the small satchel. She almost ran through the door, slamming it behind her. A blast of cold air hit her face, and she felt as if she had been slapped. It stopped her instantly.
It was a warning. This time she felt it with clarity. He is coming for you the wind whispered from the east.
She ran and launched off a small knoll to the side of the hut. She flew low over the valley, then past the small village where she was known, where it was easy for her to be found.
She fled north to the big city, to Edo.
May 1, 2012
Are you doing it?
 |
| Walking Staten Island, NY 2011 |
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