there was a storyteller who decided to go to graduate school. She left her readers hanging, but the story will be told. A little more time, please, gentle readers. The second masters degree is almost done.

Kumoko

Thank you for the past 14 years as my husband and the ten years before that in which you shared your life with me ( Read more... )

The moment is perfect. All time slows and lingers in the silence between heartbeats. He had been inches from me. Mere inches.

The moment pounds and swells like the sound of taiko in my ears as I fill my lungs ( Read more... )

I return to my room.

As I close the fusuma the old woman remains bent and bowed. A touch of spite makes me slide the screen closed as quietly as possible. I wonder how long it will be until she dares glance up to see that I have retreated. I shake my head at my ill humor and resolve to ask for guidance when next I visit my family shrine ( Read more... )

I reach for the catch on the sliding panel and hook my finger under the wing of the brass cicada hikite. Slowly, so slowly, I slide the fusuma open, giving thanks for the old woman's diligence and wax. The panel makes no noise.

I peer through the crack into the dimly lit hall of the ryokan, careful to put my body between the shadow and the light ( Read more... )

I sit, watching the purpling bruises on my arm, the darkness spreads slowly. Like all darkness, it is insidious.

When I rise at last, I miss my servants. I feel weak. It is difficult to dress without their aid. Even my traveling kimono is an effort to don. I do not even attempt to dress my hair. Instead, I twist it, tie it in a knot to hang down ( Read more... )

Yume to akumu
“Magistrate! Magistrate ( Read more... )

I do not spend long in contemplation. I finish the tea in my cup soon after Yama-san leaves. Tomorrow I will visit the shrine on the hill, I decide. Sleep threatens to claim me. I find my way into the adjoining room and my bed, but only just, before I succumb ( Read more... )

Hi no yojin - part two

The silence between us stretches too. It pulls so thin it snaps when the servant scratches at the shojiI quickly gather the broken silence and push it aside. “Come ( Read more... )

Hi no yojin - part one

In the hall, the servant kneels and scratches at the door. She quietly slides the shoji fusuma aside and speaks softly. I do not look up from my task, carefully drying the tip if my brush and coaxing it to a point. The servant is old and her voice is thin, I guess more than hear her tell me that the others have returned. I ( Read more... )