CommandoBob
AbstractArt
The Woman of the Snows lived at the bottom of Mount Kilimanjaro. Matsudaira Hirotada and his wife Odainokata trudged along the path to her abode. It was late summer and Odainokata's pregnancy did not greatly impede their progress. Both were young, he 17 and she 15, and their bodies were used to physical exertion. They arrived at The Shack in the Shadows at noon. They were not the first to arrive. Others, many others, were gathered around the shack, waiting for something.
Matsudaira entered the shack and saw an old woman sitting on the floor. She looked up at him.
"What's your number? Are you 24?" she asked.
"Uh, yes, I am," he replied, hoping that being 24 would let them in faster.
"Liar. Twenty-four was done two hours ago. Hold out your hand."
He did and did not flinch when she smacked paint on the back of his hand. Quickly she converted the paint in the glyphs for one hundred and one.
"Can't have line jumpers. Now go outside and wait. Your number will be called when we're ready for you."
"What number are you on right now?"
"Thirty-seven but they are moving pretty quick. We should be to fifty by sunset."
"Fifty! And I'm 101. When will I get in?"
"Today, tomorrow, maybe later. This is our busy season, so it is hard to say. We'll work you in somehow." And then she appeared to fall asleep.
Matsudaira left the shack and sought out his wife. She was sitting on a rock a short ways down the path.
"Well?" she asked.
"We're number one oh one and they are on thirty-seven," he snarled. "I don't plan to be here for days on end."
"So what are you going to do?"
"I don't know. Yet."
He climbed up on a rock behind her and stood there and fumed. And gritted his teeth. And clinched his fists. And fumed. And fumed.
He had stood there, solid and upset, for about half an hour, when a voice penetrated his concentration.
"Matsudaira," his wife said quietly, "This man wishes to speak to you. He has called to you several times and you have not answered him."
"Forgive me," Matsudaira said, "My mind was far away."
"That's okay," said the stranger. "I get bored here too. My number is 86, what is yours?"
"One hundred and one," he spat out.
"Wow, that's bad, even worse than mine and I got here yesterday."
There was no response.
"Uhh, what were you thinking about, if you don't mind me asking?"
Matsudaira spoke slowly and deliberately. "I was wondering how many of these people would be dead by evening. It is not a good day for them to be here."
"What?" He looked startled and a bit scared. "What did you say?"
"It is not a good day for them to be here," he repeated.
"Before that, you talked about people dieing, right? How many dead people would there be?"
"Yes."
"Over the last several nights I have dreams, nightmares, visons, even, of body parts strown across this mountain, and sometimes even in this valley and around that shack. Bodies just ripped apart, as if mangled by a large, vicious beast."
Matsudaira just nodded. "I have not seen that," he stated. "Just the dead faces, none of whom I know. And I weep for them, for they will have died for nothing."
"Well, I don't know about you but I'm getting my people out of here. I've told some folks about my dreams and they laughed at me. Now I don't care. I can come back later. I don't plan to die today."
"Hold," said Matsudaira. "Have you seen many rats today?"
"Yes, yes I have. And why do you ask?" he queried in a high, nervous voice.
"They gather."
The man swallowed and took a step away.
"Yeah, that's what I was afraid of. Nice to meet you; I've got to go."
The man quickly went back towards the shack, not running but almost. In a few minutes he came back with a few others, nervous and not pleased to be leaving. He hurried them on. A few minutes later two more people headed back down the path. And then a few more. Never many at one time, just a few, but it was soon obvious that people were heading away and not coming back.
Matsudaira had not counted how many people were waiting when he got his number. But when one hundred people had passed by him he felt good. After one hundred and twenty three had departed, he stepped down and smiled slightly to his wife.
"Shall we?"
She looked at him.
"You are such a scoundrel; deceiving those people like that."
"Not me. I wasn't the one that was scared. Now let us go and see the Woman of the Snows".
Matsudaira entered the shack and saw an old woman sitting on the floor. She looked up at him.
"What's your number? Are you 24?" she asked.
"Uh, yes, I am," he replied, hoping that being 24 would let them in faster.
"Liar. Twenty-four was done two hours ago. Hold out your hand."
He did and did not flinch when she smacked paint on the back of his hand. Quickly she converted the paint in the glyphs for one hundred and one.
"Can't have line jumpers. Now go outside and wait. Your number will be called when we're ready for you."
"What number are you on right now?"
"Thirty-seven but they are moving pretty quick. We should be to fifty by sunset."
"Fifty! And I'm 101. When will I get in?"
"Today, tomorrow, maybe later. This is our busy season, so it is hard to say. We'll work you in somehow." And then she appeared to fall asleep.
Matsudaira left the shack and sought out his wife. She was sitting on a rock a short ways down the path.
"Well?" she asked.
"We're number one oh one and they are on thirty-seven," he snarled. "I don't plan to be here for days on end."
"So what are you going to do?"
"I don't know. Yet."
He climbed up on a rock behind her and stood there and fumed. And gritted his teeth. And clinched his fists. And fumed. And fumed.
He had stood there, solid and upset, for about half an hour, when a voice penetrated his concentration.
"Matsudaira," his wife said quietly, "This man wishes to speak to you. He has called to you several times and you have not answered him."
"Forgive me," Matsudaira said, "My mind was far away."
"That's okay," said the stranger. "I get bored here too. My number is 86, what is yours?"
"One hundred and one," he spat out.
"Wow, that's bad, even worse than mine and I got here yesterday."
There was no response.
"Uhh, what were you thinking about, if you don't mind me asking?"
Matsudaira spoke slowly and deliberately. "I was wondering how many of these people would be dead by evening. It is not a good day for them to be here."
"What?" He looked startled and a bit scared. "What did you say?"
"It is not a good day for them to be here," he repeated.
"Before that, you talked about people dieing, right? How many dead people would there be?"
"Yes."
"Over the last several nights I have dreams, nightmares, visons, even, of body parts strown across this mountain, and sometimes even in this valley and around that shack. Bodies just ripped apart, as if mangled by a large, vicious beast."
Matsudaira just nodded. "I have not seen that," he stated. "Just the dead faces, none of whom I know. And I weep for them, for they will have died for nothing."
"Well, I don't know about you but I'm getting my people out of here. I've told some folks about my dreams and they laughed at me. Now I don't care. I can come back later. I don't plan to die today."
"Hold," said Matsudaira. "Have you seen many rats today?"
"Yes, yes I have. And why do you ask?" he queried in a high, nervous voice.
"They gather."
The man swallowed and took a step away.
"Yeah, that's what I was afraid of. Nice to meet you; I've got to go."
The man quickly went back towards the shack, not running but almost. In a few minutes he came back with a few others, nervous and not pleased to be leaving. He hurried them on. A few minutes later two more people headed back down the path. And then a few more. Never many at one time, just a few, but it was soon obvious that people were heading away and not coming back.
Matsudaira had not counted how many people were waiting when he got his number. But when one hundred people had passed by him he felt good. After one hundred and twenty three had departed, he stepped down and smiled slightly to his wife.
"Shall we?"
She looked at him.
"You are such a scoundrel; deceiving those people like that."
"Not me. I wasn't the one that was scared. Now let us go and see the Woman of the Snows".