EYES WIDE OPEN

 

Many cultures throughout history have held similar beliefs that eyes, particularly the pupils, are “windows to the soul”.  Here’s a BoSt Production rendition, a fictional story that incorporates this particular insight.

Orphaned at the age of three Tuan Yong was brought up by his paternal uncle Tuan Gang who had begrudgingly taken him in.

His uncle Gang had an only son Tuan Min who happened to be six months older than Yong.  Min had two elder half-sisters but, being the only male offspring, was terribly fawned upon and spoiled from birth.

A special tutor was engaged to educate both children but with a particular onus to give the most attention and care to Min. Yong was pretty much left to his own devices to learn whatever he can. However Yong had the propensity to develop into a fine, intelligent, young man with high moral fibre.  Gifted with many exceptional abilities, generous to a fault in nature, as well as, possessing a rather statuesque, handsome physique, Yong had, in every imaginable way, far surpassed Min.  To the further consternation of his uncle Gang, Yong also possessed added brilliance and aptitude with the literary and the fine arts. By simply tapping into his vast reserves of imagination on top of his natural keen insight into nature, Yong would produce with the least effort dazzling masterpieces in a flash. He was therefore popular and held increasingly so in high regard by all his peers.

In contrast, Min, despite his efforts and many inherited advantages, could never measure up, always falling short in any social or academic endeavor. What’s more, as upstanding as Yong was in character and ability, Min was the opposite. But instead of acknowledging his inferiority, Min remained falsely confident, vain and cruel. 

Wishing to advance his only his son Min, Gang chose to be perpetually blinded to all his shortcomings. He refused to acknowledge the blatant facts when Min took full credit for Yong’s exemplary deeds and academic accolades. Most often Yong was also unfairly blamed and punished for many of Min’s loathsome acts. Moreover poor Yong would be severely reprimanded at each instance for his supposed failing to protect and deter Min from his nasty endeavors and his increasingly coarse, scandalous ways. 

As they grew up, to the added consternation of Gang, his son Min had become progressively wicked and licentious, warranting more additional funds and force to suppress the resulting damage. To make matters worse Min had become a compulsive gambler and a womanizer. His idle ways led him to spend most of his time in unsavory places doing many abhorrent things. All of which of course was covered up with a certain pressure and occasional bribery; even though this greatly   sapped Gang’s coffers.

Then came a day when Min committed an unpardonable crime; one that could not be so easily swept under the rug for any amount of finagling, threat or money. The situation was dire and something extreme needed to resolve it.

  In a private conference Uncle Tuan Gang spoke his mind after laying the blame squarely on Yong’s shoulders. “You should have been more insistent in your reasoning with Min and strove harder, been more persistent in order to prevent this catastrophic event.  As it is, the authorities will be wizened to it by morning and will be coming to make an arrest!”  

Finally, after all that ranting and raving, with his fury spent, Gang sat down and in a hissing voice added, “There might be, however, one last recourse left.  That is, if you, Tuan Yong are willing to face this probable peril. “Looking down he mumbled, “And considering all that I’ve done for you, you owe me, at least this one favor!”

Yong ‘s life by any means had not been an easy one, still he felt he owed his Uncle a debt of gratitude for his upbringing, education and shelter for  all these years.  He therefore had little choice but to accede to this unfair demand and shoulder the full blame for Min’s crime.

“I’m not an entirely unreasonable man however, “His uncle hemmed and hawed.  “That is why I’ve facilitated your escape. The authorities will look the other way till morning. This letter will give you the proper introductions to my friend Fan Wei who owes me a favor.  He lives in the Sekor district in Dara province. The journey will be hard on you I dare say, as it crosses much hostile territory and is close to the border, a far, far place from here. He will take you in all right; he owes me and he can use you in his employ till such a time that this thing blows over.  Is that agreeable to you?”

“Of course Uncle,” Yong fell on his knees, “I’m forever indebted to you for your mercy.”  What other response could Yong give?

Shortly after leaving all that he had known behind, armed with a letter, Yong made good his escape under cover of night.

His arduous trek eventually took him to the foothills of a great mountain range. Looking up, he observed the snow cowered peaks and just below that the expansive span of dense forest stretching as far as the eye could see.

Subsequently, his desperate gaze searched for accessible paths. He knew that crossing these mountains will be the last leg of his journey. From then on a far easier topography but harsher climate still awaited him. His provisions for sustenance were nearly exhausted, save for a small portion of dried bread and moldy cheese. Meanwhile though his foot-gear was threadbare he would still persevere, he was sure of it. He was only armed with a staff and a short knife for protection; fortunately though he had been spared from encounters with bandits or carnivorous beasts.

The snaking, narrow, rocky mountain paths with a sheer precipice on one side, led him ever upward for many a day, then one fine afternoon he found himself at the maw of a huge cave.   As the weather looked rather ominous, he entered the cave to seek shelter for the night.

With intermixed trepidation and eagerness in his heart, his feet carried him further and further in. As it was still daylight, he took advantage of the scant light streaming in. Eventually he arrived at a large opening, a huge chamber bathed in plenty of light.  Up ahead, his eyes beheld the source; an unexpected huge opening that looked out onto a distant forested mountain.  Incredibly a person clad in strange priestly garments was seated at a bench table, brush in hand, quite engaged in painting on a silk cloth.

Unable to believe his eyes, he tentatively advanced until he was right behind the seated stranger.  Leaning over he observed a most remarkable painting. It depicted the scene outside of the opening so perfectly, so lifelike.  An exclamation escaped Yong’s lips as he marveled at the artistry.

He took hold of his senses however and pulled back; then quickly apologized, “Please excuse me for this intrusion, but what an amazing ....” He’d suddenly found himself lost for words.

The stranger had at first remained perfectly still and quite unperturbed.  Presently he half turned to glance at Yong.

At once Yong bowed to the stranger who had by then risen to his feet and squarely faced him.  After his repeated apology for his infringement of the painter’s privacy, Yong formally introduced himself, and then exclaimed his deep admiration of the painting in progress. He rambled on without intending to for several minutes. A profusion of words and concepts mainly extrapolating on the points of the painting he admired streamed from his mouth; followed by other historical references and artists relating to the style and subject of the painting.

 “You seem quite knowledgeable of the arts” the stranger, who’d listened with unusual patience, finally smiled.  He then introduced himself as Liong Xiá and further inquired, “But what is this person Zhang Shen Yao you’ve made mention of?  I am not familiar with that person.”

Yong could hardly believe his ears, “Surely you jest, sir?” He politely smiled.   “He is a legendary artist, known far and wide in the realm.”  

But the stranger simply shook his head. In the ensuing silence, Yong was obliged to offer more explanations; and so, he succinctly told the account of the story of Zhang Seng Yao’s painting of Dragons:

He was a famous painter, during Wei-Jin the South and North Dynasties who excelled in painting animals, birds and particularly dragons.

According to legend, the Emperor had ordered him to paint dragons on the wall of AnLe temple.  After he drew four dragons, Zhang invited the emperor to take a look.

“But the work is incomplete! “The emperor was displeased, having at once noted that the dragons were drawn without the pupils.

“The absence of the pupils is purposeful, “Zhang quickly explained, “as they are the essence of the dragons.  To do otherwise would bring the creatures to life and usher in unwarranted consequences.”

The emperor, thinking this to be a high exaggeration of an egotistical artist, demanded Zhang complete his work. Zhang Shen Yao was therefore forced to do as he was bid. No sooner did he complete the eyes of two of the dragons, lightening flashed and thunders roared.  There was a strange mist that filled the air and in that chaos the two mighty dragons emerged through the mist. In a flash they dashed through the cave’s ceiling to instantly disappear without a trace into the sky.

When the smoke and mist cleared, the emperor saw that only two dragons remained on the wall.

“Quite an interesting account” Xiá nodded at the conclusion of Yong’s retelling of the story.  You have a flare with words, sir that enlivens the scene. Thank you for that.

“Nevertheless, “Yong added thoughtfully. “ As enduring as this legend is, and there are even supposed to be documented historical accounts of its validity in the Royal Library.   Now that I’ve said it out loud.... “Yong shrugged, doubting his original firm belief.  “Perhaps it’s nothing more than a high exaggeration to beguile or entertain the masses.”

“Who’s to say” Xia shrugged. “Then again...” He picked up and unrolled one of the scrolls then spread it across the table.

Yong was amazed at the lifelike painting of a bird... But what’s this? There were no pupils.

He looked up at Xie questioningly.

Xiá smiled, “Would you like to know?”

“Yes,” Yong eagerly nodded.

At which point Xie took a brush, dipped the tip in ink and simply painted in the pupils.

No sooner had he done that then, to the amazement of Yong, the bird blinked, his feathers ruffled, and then instantaneously came to life and simply flew away, escaping through the wide opening of the cave.

Yong knew at once that this was no ordinary mortal.  But his thoughts suddenly, for some reason, turned instead to the letter in his inner pocket.

“What’s this? “But then, when he reached for it, he discovered that it was missing.  Had he dropped it along the way?

Yong, looking up and saw the very letter with its seal intact in the hands of Xiá.

“Are you looking for this? “ Xia looked grim as he glanced at the letter. Then suddenly he fixed his eyes on Jiang and asked, “You’ve never once had the temptation to open it to see what’s inside?”

“Of course not!  It was not addressed to me.”  Yong gave his frank response.

”Then again, this once, perhaps you should have.” Xia pursed his lips.

Yong understood at once the peril that awaited him at the end of his journey.   After all his survival would have been a bane to Gang with so much at stake. It saddened Yong however that his Uncle had so little regard for him. Then again, perhaps his Uncle’s love for his son was far greater.

Having decided quickly he knelt before Liong Xiá. He then pleaded to be his pupil.

Xiá smiled and nodded. Then he held out the letter which disappeared in a puff of smoke.

The End.

 

 

 

 

 

KIYOHIME AND THE HEARTLES PRIEST

 KIYOHIME AND THE HEARTLESS PRIEST

 (A JAPANESE FOLKLORE REVISED BY BOST)

 

According to Japanese folklore Kiyohime (or simply Kiyo) was the daughter of a village headman named Shōji, on the Hidaka riverbank. The family was wealthy enough to entertain and provide lodging for traveling priests, who often passed by on their way to a shrine famous for ascetic practices.

One day a handsome visiting priest named Anchin, having arrived at dusk, accepted the gracious invitation to be Shoji’s guest for the night.

 He was served a sumptuous meal and, was treated very well all during the evening with his needs generously provided for. He was even given the best bedroom.  Unfortunately, during the course of the night his attention was taken by Shoji’s rather bashful, beautiful daughter Kiyo.

As Anchin was rather a debonair, handsome young priest with suave manners and eloquent tongue, Kiyo quickly became smitten by him. 

 Anchin had only recently joined the order of priesthood, besides, he’d always been a passionate, hot blooded young man; seeing that his feelings were reciprocated by this enchanting girl and so wanting more time to get to know Kiyo, he deferred his morning departure and instead made up a plausible excuse so as to extend his stay for a few more days.

It was a beautiful time of year, when the Earth wore the bright coloured cloak of spring and frolicking birds and insects filled the air with cheerful melody. A few surreptitious, fervent meetings led to intimacy and Anachin, having totally lost his head, fell deeply in love with Kiyo.

Unfortunately, Anchin, being a principled, devout individual, furthermore, being dedicated to his chosen vocation, he just as quickly regained his wits (right mind) and wished to extricate himself from this erroneous infatuation (obsession). His initial desire had been to let her down gently; nevertheless, seeing her as the temptress, his demeanor henceforth became icy cold towards her, and he refrained from any further covert meetings.  

Poor Kiyo wracked her brains for any explanation for this sudden change in Anchin and, failing to do so, fell into deep dismay.  In her view she’d been taken advantage of and most cruelly and reprehensibly victimized by Anachin; especially since until then she had been virtuous and proper. The rejection by this heartless rogue Priest fed the furies of her emotions fanning them into intense hatred. 

 When one afternoon Kiyohime was away visiting a neighbour, Anachin took advantage of her absence to escape this sticky situation. He quietly made his excuses to his host Shoji and quickly departed. 

She was incensed when she returned and found him already gone without a word. Beside herself, she dashed out of the house leaving her baffled father behind.

Tears coursing down her cheeks she ran and ran in hot pursuit of the unfaithful lover, with her heart in a terrible grip of fiery rage.  Kiyohime eventually caught up with Anchin at the edge of the Hidaka River.

Anchin, sighting her first, quickly hired the moored ferryman to help him across the river. Once on board, Anchin pressed the boatmen to gain speed.  Paying him additional funds, he further cautioned the boatman not to let her cross after him.   

Distraught Kiyohime was crushed when she saw Anchin’s icy, heartless glare before he turned his face away to urge the boatmen for speed. She was so incensed; she bit her lip until blood trickled down her chin. Oblivious to her pain she dove into the rapid flowing river and started to swim towards them.  She wanted some explanation, even a feeble excuse for his breaking his promise to her. While swimming in the torrent of the Hidaka River, thrashing this way and that, her heart was so filled with rage that it literally burst. Suddenly pitch darkness engulfed the waters. At that same moment she underwent a transformation, growing scales, becoming misshapen, and stretching until she turned into a fierce Dragon.

When Anchin looked back and, this time, saw her in the altered state of a monstrous Dragon effortlessly gliding through the foamy tumultuous waters, his heart skipped a beat.  Fortunately, the boat had just reached the other shore. Bypassing the boatman who was trying to moor his craft, he simply jumped onto the shore. His feet firmly planted on the ground; he raced towards the temple called Dōjō-ji.  His heart still in his mouth, sweating profusely and panting heavily, he begged the priests of Dōjōji for their cooperation and help in escaping this monster, the terrible evil spirit scourge that had taken on the form of a Dragon.   They believed in Anchin and quickly lowered the bell of the temple to hide him under it.

The Dragon at first hesitated to enter the temple. But then her icy breath blew open the enormous doors in a miasmic cloud of fog, dust and debris and she manifested inside.

“Where is he?” She roared. But no one was there to answer her as all the priests had taken flight and hid. Her fiery breath could have razed the temple to the ground, but she still retained some benevolence and instead forcefully restrained her wrath. 

She looked about her for a time, and then her keen sense picked up the frightened odor of Anchin quaking terribly, though well hidden, inside the giant bell.

Seething, the Dragon sliced through the air right across the room and coiled her enormous tail around the bell.  She thrashed the bell loudly for several times.  Anchin was nearly driven insane with all the noise and vibration.  However, he was trapped and deep down he knew he would pay for his momentary lapse of judgement and sin. So resigned to his fate, he started to pray quietly for absolution.

Too late!

For just then the Dragon having tired of this fruitless torment, gave a gigantic belch of fire that engulfed and quickly melted the bell with Anchin inside.

The End.

 A PAIR OF FIBBERS

Once upon a time at a countryside village, there were two best friends called Nero and Simon, who lived in two ramshackle houses in close proximity to each other. They were also the youngest of their many siblings and so they often were ignored. Being of similar temperament and preferring idleness to mundane daily chores, the co-conspirators Nero and Simon never failed to sneak off each and every day to some prearranged point to partake in some wildly imaginative adventures.

One such place was the nearby lake, a sizeable watercourse, with snaking shorelines, sometimes hidden with tall bulrushes, which extended for miles and miles. As the two friends both loved fibbing and being quite adept at swimming, they often chose to frolic at the unfrequented segment of this large lake. 

This part once had plenty of fish but presently, if there were any fish there at all, they swam undisturbed and secure amidst the miasma of tall underwater weeds.  Sometime prior some fishermen had been ensnared by this thick underwater vegetation and consequently drowned at this very spot. As others followed suit and corpses piled up the legend quickly spread about a vengeful Dragon King. This deterred many trespassers. This Dragon King was furious, as he had been cast down from the Heavens for some infractions and forced to take up residence in this insignificant lake.

 Having wild and lively imaginations Nero and Simon were frequently drawn to this place and often made it their fun pastime to go on a quest to vanquish colossal monsters lurking in some shadows and deep recesses of the water.  

As an added amusement each also fashioned wild claims just to see if they could hoodwink the other.

On this particular day, having snuck off again to seek another adventure, Nero and Simon eventually took refuge from the burning rays of the midday sun in the shade of a huge tree.  Nero was drawing some imaginary lines in the ground when, finding the piece of meat he’d put in his pocket earlier on that morning, suddenly looked up and said:

“You know what, Simon? I was just thinking. This shade is well and good here but, hmm, thus far everything you and I had said, and you know it too, is all malarkeys.  Why don’t we cool off and wash out all this nonsense stuffing up our mind? But the lake waters are not so good here; do you dare go to that forbidden spot?”

“I’m no coward, lead on!” Simon jumped to his feet.

Nero reached the spot first and, without hesitation, dove in. When he finally emerged from the water, he sported a wry (sardonic) grin on his face and, producing the meat, settled down in a shady spot and began to chew on it.

Simon quickly picked himself up from where he’d collapsed panting from the exertion. Reminded of his growling stomach, he wanted the same. Looking wistful at the yummy morsel, he licked his chops and asked: “Where did you get that meat?”

“Oh, this?” Nero smiled. “The Dragon King was holding a feast and when he learned that I especially came to see him and pay my respect to the mighty dragon; highly pleased, he ordered his servant to give me, as reward, a plateful of appetizing (tasty) morsels. This delectable peace I saved to eat later, as I am doing now.

“Oh, my word!” He licked his lips. “Wow, this meat is truly heavenly; wow, its so delicious it must be slice from defeated Heavenly warrior's flesh...One that had incurred the wrath of the mighty Dragon and got bested. Or perhaps, a renegade sea-monster that displeased His Highness, the Blue Dragon.”

“I want some too!  I too am deserving of such a reward.” Simon immediately removed his sweat soaked clothes and dove into the water.

Simon had dove in so fast that he smashed his head against a huge rock; in his confused state, however, he imagined the obstruction, which he’d bumped into, being the Dragon's nose.

He emerged with a trail of blood streaming down his forehead.

“What happened?” Nero asked with concern. “How on earth did you hurt your head?”

Not wanting to admit defeat, Simon shook his head and grumbled: “The Dragon King was angry because I was tardy and beat me over the head with a drumstick. The pain is unbearable."

The End.