Fables for Japan Book1

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The water ooded through the Boy,ripping away his fear, sadness, and despair,

his love, happiness, and hope. The greatwave washed away the land, leaving only

an open sea in its wake.-- Boy in the Water

Book I

apanFables

for J


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Tamontenby Eric Prince

God of Wealth, Warriors, andBuddhism, Protector of North,Lord of the Four Heavenly Kings

Fables for Japan, Book I. Published digitally by Jason Minor. September 10th, 2011. 2011. All works contained in this book aresolely owned by the individual creators and cannot be reproduced without the creators written consent. All works appearing inthis book were used with the permission of the creators. No similarity between any of the names, characters, persons, and/orinstitutions in this book with those of any living or dead person or institution is intended and is purely coincidental.


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This book is dedicated to the people of Japan, to thesurvivors, the volunteers helping to rebuild, the people whohave opened their homes to the homeless, and to those whohave helped others nd light in their darkest moments. Wehope this book honors those who have passed and thosewho must continue.

Dedication

AcknowledgementsI would like to acknowledge all of those who have made

this book possible. We began this project without thebenets of a publishing company or investors; we are agroup of independent writers and artists using what we haveto help. As a general rule, freelancers dont earn a fortuneand often have to deal with impossible deadlines. It is nosmall sacrice to take time out of that rat race and do workfor free. So to all of them, I say thank you.

I would also like to send a special thanks to Matt Funkfor sparking the ame that ignited this project and to JoanUpton Hall and Rebecca Minor for helping me edit this

book. All praise is due to them and only the typos are mine.


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My son was born about two weeks before March 11th, sowhen I heard about the massive quake and following

tsunami in Japan, I was a little preoccupied. I made asmall donation to the Red Cross and went back to taking care ofmy son. I didnt think much more about it.

Three things changed that. The rst was a video I saw of anentire village, on re, literally being swept away by oodwaters. Idseen tsunamis topple buildings before, turn over cars and such,

but a whole village? The second came whenfty of the workers at the Fukushima nuclear

power plant chose not to evacuate, but to staybehind and face lethal doses of radiation in afutile attempt to stop the meltdown. Their levelof sacrice and bravery underlined, for me, theseriousness of the situation in a way nothing else

could. The third came when I read the post of anineteen-year-old college student named Matt Funk

on Twitter.

Matt was looking for artists to illustrate severalshort stories he had written. He planned to collectthem for a charity anthology, called Fairy Talesfor Japan, and sell the book through his website.I volunteered but, soon after, logistical problemsforced Matt to call it o. I understood the problemshe faced but felt Matts idea deserved another shot.With his permission, I picked up the project. It turnsout that I didnt understand as much as I thought I

did.I tried to maintain

Matts direction butmade a few changes.First, was to shelve theidea of doing a printrun for the time being.Its costly and, if the

Preface

Illustration by Amy Evans


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sales were weak, we might not cover thecost, leaving nothing to donate. However,selling the book as a digital downloadwould almost completely eliminate the

expense, allowing us to donate all proceedstoward Japan.

The second change was to broaden the types ofmaterial accepted to include poetry, fairy tales, action,modern day, childrens and adult stories, as well as stand-aloneartwork and spot illustrations. The only stipulation was eachsubmission had to relate to Japanese Folklore in some way. Thebook was renamed Fables for Japan, to reect the diverse body ofworks being collected.

Lastly, the scope and timeline for the book was expanded. Itwas divided into three smaller books and spaced out over a year,allowing us a somewhat timely release to start raising money butkeeping us exible to accommodate busy freelancer schedules.

While we faced many obstacles along the way, a year later wehad nished all 3 volumes of Fables for Japan and raised just over$2000.00. We donated that money to the International Medical

Corps who continue to work with various groups in Japan, treatingand helping to relocate the thousands still displaced from theFukushima meltdown.

With the books complete and the sales tapering o, we decidedto make them available to everyone for free. These books are ourmemorial to those who lost their lives in the quake of 2011 and tothose who have carried on.

A lot of love went into this project and we hope youll enjoy

all 3 of these magnicant books. All we ask is, if you are able, toplease make a donation in whatever amount you can aord to theInternational Medical Corps at the following link:

https://internationalmedicalcorps.org/sslpage.aspx?pid=2434

Thank you.

Jason Temujin MinorSeptember 1, 2012

https://internationalmedicalcorps.org/sslpage.aspx?pid=2434https://internationalmedicalcorps.org/sslpage.aspx?pid=2434


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An Introductionby Nathan Dodge

Dear Japan Lover,If anime, cherry blossoms,

manga, haiku, karaoke,

kimonos, rice cakes, sushi, sake, orbizarre fashions sound familiar, thenIm sure you are at least somewhataware of Japanese culture. Luckyfor me, I moved to Sendai, Japan4 years ago to work in teachingand now animation. Through theyears, I have been able to see whattruly represents Japan through its

people, culture, and love of food,festivals, and scenery. The festivals,in particular, have led me to surf thecoast of Miyagi, enjoy the cruisesaround Matsushimas islands, dancelate into the night on the beaches ofFukushima, and enjoy the tastiestfreshest eel in Ishinomaki while

drinking beers from Iwate. Im sure if I had asked last year where

Sendai or any of the other afore mentioned locals were on a mapmost would be clueless. Sadly, the event that did put Sendai andTohoku region on everyones radar was the devastating 9.0 quakeof March 11, 2011.

Im sure by now most of you have seen the pictures, heard thenews, or followed the events on Twitter regarding Sendai, Japanand the rest of Tohoku with its coasts destroyed by tsunamis. So

Illustration by Gareth Sleightholme


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instead of dwelling on that, I hope to give a brief introduction ofthe people and art of Tohoku and encourage you to search morefor yourself. Tohoku is a rich scenic area of northern Japan far fromthe hustle and bustle of Tokyo. The mountains of Tohoku stretch

from Fukushima through Miyagi and Iwate up into Aomori, thevery northern part of mainland Japan. The night skies are lledwith beautiful purples, oranges, and pinks along the mountainpeaks. The land of the rising sun has some of the most spectacularsunsets as well. These mountains entertain several festivals, music,and barbeques in the summer, and snowboarders and skiers inthe winter. Beautiful coastlines stretch from north to south wheresurfers board the waves from dawn to dusk. Time here runs in amore relaxed way away from the craziness of the big cities in the

south. Because of the rural culture, festivals celebrating ancientlovesick couples, mythical creatures, samurai, and harvests areabundant and bring new friends together constantly.

As a result of Tohokus natural calmness, the reaction to theMarch 11 quake was much dierent than people elsewhere in theworld could have expected. Although there had been warnings ofa possible quake for many years, no one could have prepared forsuch a massive catastrophe as the one that struck on March 11 or

the series of quakes that came in the monthsafter and still continues to tremble throughJapan today. Afterwards, as people triedto locate loved ones, reclaim what wasleft of their homes, and waited in linesfor hours to buy ten items or less atthe supermarkets, an amazing thinghappened. Neighbors began gatheringin the evening for warm talks and to

share what they had. Those withouthomes were welcomed into localschool gyms. In so many ways,it reminded me of the rstyear I moved to the Tohokuarea. I was invited to enjoybarbeques with new friendsand neighbors who I could

Illustration by Gareth Sleightholme


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barely understand. These were the people whoinspired me to be adventurous and explore the

area more. Any free time is cause for some sort ofcelebration in Japan. This is true even now, amidst all

the tragedy, the people of Japan nd reason to rejoiceand celebrate. In fact, Im writing this on a Japaneseholiday. Sea Day, celebrated in July, is a time of festivals

set aside for the many prefectures of Tohoku. However,this weekend was extra special. A mass, called Rokon Sai

meaning Six Prefecture Mass Festival, was formed to honor andremember the victims in spirit. In the past, the Sea Day festivals

were celebrated in the separate prefectures for the purposeof enjoying the water. Rokon Sai became a new tradition

held in Sendai, showcasing all six prefectures talents, foods,games, and beauty contestants. These holidays give the Japanesepeople a much-needed rest and a chance to enjoy the hot climatesof summer wearing yukatas (a summer kimono) with friends.These festivals alone are reason to visit Japan.

Its because of the Japanese culture that I believe several peoplestuck close to their families despite tsunamis and later nuclearmeltdown. Some say it was foolish, but no one can be considered

foolish for wanting to protect and support those they love. Thislove is why so many came out after the quake to volunteer alongthe coast. I was one of those lucky volunteers. I awoke at dawn andspent full days with the coastal people who were starting to puttheir lives back together. I was amazed by how quickly everyoneresponded to the needs of the families who had lost everythingand sometimes everyone in the tsunamis. The groups of volunteerschanged daily, which made each day a new experience and broughtnew friends I would never have met otherwise.

Now, just months later the volunteers are still coming in everymonth to serve by building homes for those living in school gyms.Others are taking food to the coast and serving thousands everyweek in potluck barbeques. Roads are being constructed in only afew days now that debris has been cleared away. Although Twitterand other news sources might not carry Sendai in the news otherthan to scare foreigners with radiation warnings, you can believe



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me that there is still work to be done. The March 11 quake andfollowing tsunami literally changed the geography of Japan, theramications of the nuclear meltdown remain to be seen, andsmaller tremors still threaten to this day. Thankfully, volunteers

from around the world keep coming, supporting those in need,and making new friends with the warm and loving people of Japan.Life is beginning to come to some form of normality in Tohoku.

I have been given so much opportunity and care from theJapanese and it is my hope that projects like Fables for Japanwill help Japan continue to rebuild and heal. I hope that you,the reader, may have the same opportunities to board down themountains of Miyagi and Yamagata, to try the fresh sushi ofIshinomaki, to surf the coast of Shichigahama, and to dance on thebeaches of Fukushima and Saitama. I hope you get to indulge yoursenses as you hike the trails of Miyagi, and bathe in the onsensof Naruko, and enjoy the festivals of searching for the mythicalcreature, Kappa, in Iwate. Tohoku is a rich culture that cannot beheld down or destroyed. It will rebuild because there are peoplelike you who care for Japan and its people, who live and loveabundantly who work to put the pieces back together.

Creative artists and writers throughout the world, brought

together for the rst time through a mutual love of Japan, formedthis amazing book. It is the desire of the contributors to Fables forJapan to remind the world how wonderful Japan is by showcasingart, stories, and culture that shaped its resilient people. On behalfof everyone who worked so hard to make Fables for Japan we thankyou and hope you enjoy the book. We look forward to entertainingyou more as this is only the beginning of something amazing.

Nathanael DodgeSendai, JapanAugust 19, 2011


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Table of Contents

To My Masterpiece 10by Matt Funk & Gareth Sleightholme

Wings 15by Patricia Morse-McNeely & Ayan Sengupta

There was a Troll Under the Bridge 16by Matt Funk & Leigh Walls

Silver Wings 23by Patricia Morse-McNeely & Ayan Sengupta

The Roof Deckers Tale 24by Stuart Moore & Ryan Kelly

The Butterfly 30by Patricia Morse-McNeely & Risa Horiuchi

There Were Pixies Dancing 31by Matt Funk & Yao Xiao

Kitsune 36by Nancy A. Collins & Phillip Hester

Writing Love 45by Patricia Morse-McNeely & Ayan Sengupta

Sun and Moon 46by Matt Funk & Amy Evans

Resurrection 48by Patricia Morse-McNeely & Ross Carnes

The Samurai 51by Christopher Clements

Aging Hearts 57

by Patricia Morse-McNeely & Ayan Sengupta

Bad Sushi 58by Mark Badger

Monkey and Wolf 70by Matt Funk & Nathan Dodge

A Heavenly Message 80by Patricia Morse-McNeely & Ayan Sengupta

Hirokos Tale 81by Je Baker & Leanne Buckley

Biography of Love 86by Patricia Morse-McNeely & Ayan Sengupta

Bunbuku Chagama 88by Tom Peyer, Federico Dallocchio, & MaGnUs

Traveler 92by Anna Bron

Sun and Rain 96by Patricia Morse-McNeely & Ayan Sengupta

Healer 97by Mary Elizabeth Hall & Kristen Grace Hall

The Birth of Spring 105by Patricia Morse-McNeely & Ayan Sengupta

Boy in the Water 106by Jason Temujin Minor

Afterword 114

Meet The Contributors 115

Cover: Wounded Toriiby Jason Temujin Minor

Inside Cover: Koiby Gareth Sleightholme

Title Page: Tamontenby Eric Prince

Inside Back Cover: Woman under Treeby Gareth Sleightholme

Back Cover: Re-Buildingby Teddy Kristiansen

Editors:Jason Temujin Minor

Joan Upton HallRebecca Minor

Project Manager:Jason Temujin Minor


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Along time ago, in a place that wascertainly filled with wonder, there lived

an artist. He was renowned throughoutthe land, and was talented in every mediumimaginable. Everyone admired him, and he washappy.

He lived in a house with his wife and his cat.His work had made him rich beyond his wildest dreams, but he settledfor a perfectly average dwelling. It was a small but cozy house withthe ground floor consisting of the kitchen, bedroom and living room,

and the second floor devoted entirely to the artists studio.

To

My MasterpieceStory by Matt Funk

illustrations by Gareth Sleightholme

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His wife was sweet and supportive of him, even during his moreobsessive projects, and they loved each other. The artistthought her the most beautiful creature in all the universe.

One day, after hed finished hislatest project, the artistrealized something. Heddedicated pieces to foreign kings

and queens, hed dedicated pieces tofamed explorers, warriors, heroes,

and politicians. The Emperor hadeven commissioned him. His work wasdedicated to more people than hecould remember and was seen in cities

across the world, but there was oneperson he had left out:

his wife.

The artist climbed the stairs to his studio and locked the doorbehind him.

Ill design her a palace grander than any Ive made for any royalty!

he declared.

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He pulled out a sheet of butcher paper, swept his deskclean of its accumulated oddities, and set to work.He sat there, hunched over his desk, his handscratching intensely across the paper. He did not stop. Heworked through the night with a feverish haste, working bycandle-light. Heworked withoutsleeping until,

as the sun shonethrough his openwindow, he finished.

He spread outthe paper on thefloor and looked

at the blueprints.Examining it, hebelieved it to bethe most impressivebuilding hed everdesigned.

Its not goodenough!

he yelled in a fit of rage, andtore the paper to shreds.

I must try something else.

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He walked in circles around his studio, ripping at his hair infrustration. He went to a box in the corner and found a hugelump of clay that hed made the day before.Ill sculpt her, in all of her beauty! he said. It will be a statue

greater than theColossus of Rhodes!

He took his tools from

their drawer and set towork. Using his hands, hepushed and shaped andsmoothed the clay intothe form of a woman.

With his tools, hecarved and cut andshaved away at theshape. He worked throughthe day, late into the

afternoon, pulling his beautiful wife out from the formless clay.

Finally, as the sun sank behind the hills, he finished. He stepped backand examined the sculpture, and thought it every bit as gorgeous asthe real thing.

Its still not good enough for her! he roared. She deservesperfection, and this is not it.

A hammer was sitting on a shelf nearby, and theartist took it andpulverized the statue.The bits of clay fellcrashing to the floor

and joined the shreddedpaper. The artist walked

over and gazed out thewindow. As he watched,the sun lit up thetwilight sky in radiantswaths of purple, orange

and pink.

Perfect, whisperedthe artist.

H

e spun around and fetcheda blank canvas and an easel.

He lit a lantern and set itnearby, illuminating the white surface.He took his best paints and brushes,

and for hours and hours, he danced thebristles across the canvas, recreatingthe sunset that hed witnessed. Acrossthe white surface, he swirled the fieryhues, creating a sunset perhaps moremesmerizing than the original. He workedwell into the night, until the paintingwas finished. Looking over his handiwork,he thought it his best painting.

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It must be better!

The artist took the lantern and smashed it across the painting, and thesunset burst into flames. The canvas burned, and the ashes fluttered tothe floor to join its clay and paper ancestors.

The artist fell to the ground in defeat. He sat against the locked doorand leaned his head back

as torrents of tears randown his face.

As he sat there forunknown hours, wallowingin hopelessness, his catwalked in through theopen window and casuallyrubbed against his leg,purring. It leapt into hislap, curled up in a tightball, and fell asleep. The

artist looked down at hispet and smiled.

Reaching for a pen and paper on a nearby shelf, he began to draw.After a few minutes, he set the paper down and fell asleep to thesound of the cats purr.The artist woke late in the morning exhausted and starving. His cat was

no longer present. He picked up the paper, stood, and unlocked the door. Hewalked down the stairs to the kitchen, wherehis wife was cooking cheerfully. She turned

and looked at him. Setting down what she wasdoing, she hugged him tightly and kissed him

gently on the lips.You must have been doing something pretty

important, she said, you havent left thatroom in two days!

The most important thing Ive ever done,said the artist. He handed her the paper. Itried to design a palace, a testimony to your

amazing mind, but it was not vast enough.I tried to sculpt you, a testimony to yourbeauty, but it was not beautiful enough. Itried to paint you a sunset, a testimony

to your perfection, but it was not perfectenough. So I drew you this.

His wife looked down at the sheet andsmiled. On it was two simple hearts, over-lapping one another, and three words writtenbelow them:

To MyMasterpiece.

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Wings By Patricia Morse-McNeely

Illustration by Ayan Sengupta

As seagulls on winds Soar above the restless sea

Love will give you wings.

Love will give you wings

To soar like seagulls on winds

High above the storm.

Love gives you strong wings

To soar above stormy waves

As gulls ride the winds.

Spread your wings and y

Above the storm darken clouds.

God will guide you Home.

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Hehadolivegreenskin,wasthesizeofayoungelephant,andhadhairinplacesheshouldnt.Hislowerjawj

uttedoutandtwolargeyellowingcaninesstuckupoutofhismouthliketusks.Hisbridgewasntparticularlynice.Itcoveredhimwhenitrained,andithadntyetcollapsedundertheweightofthepeopleenteringorleavingthevillage,butitwasntanythingspecial.Thebabblingbrookthatfowedunderthebridgesuppliedthetrollwithw

aterandenoughshtosustainhim.

Occasionally,agrufoldbillygoat, apig,orother farmanimalwouldwanderunderthe

bridgeandhedhaveatreat. Thevillagerswouldbecomeangrywithhimbuttheyweretoofrightenedtoeverdoanythingabout it.

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There was a new samurai in the village. He had only justarrived and was not aware of the troll lurking beneath thevery bridge he rode across. He tied his horse to a tree andwalked down to the stream to cool o. He splashed his face

with the water and drank a bit. His gaze turned toward thebridge where he saw the troll. Startled, the samurai criedout and stumbled over into the mud.

Stay back! he yelled, drawing his sword. The troll sighedand turned away from the samurai, withdrawing into theshadows under the bridge. The samurai, surprised that thetroll had obeyed him, sheathed his sword. He took a deep

breath of relief, and then coughed and gagged. What isthat horrible stench? Is that you?

You dont smell like roses either, the troll replied.

Well, its not easy to stay fresh in this armor and inthis summer heat, said the samurai.

Its about as easy for me to bathe as it is foryou, said the troll. The stream barely covers my

ankles.Well why dont you go somewhere else

then?

I cant, the troll murmured. Thesamurai heard something that soundedlike the rattling of chains from underthe bridge.

Oh, Im sorry, I didnt realizeyou were locked up.

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Ive been here for longer than anyone in the village hasbeen alive. They have long since forgotten theyre the reasonI cant leave. They fear me for no reason at all.

Why dont you tell them? the samurai asked. Surelytheyd understand.

Because, out of starvation, Ive eaten a few of theiranimals. They think Ill eat them next if they get too

close.

The samurai could hear the sadness in the trollsvoice, and couldnt but feel sympathy for the

monster. He drew his sword and walked up to

the troll. He found where the chain was hookedto the bridge and started to hack away at the

lock.

Lets get you out of here, friend, saidthe samurai as he sliced at the chain

with all his might. He swung his bladeagain and again, but he hardly made

a dent. He tried until he had nostrength left, and collapsed on theshore, peering into the water.

Im sorry, I tried.

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The troll said nothing and sat down behind thesamurai. Pondering what to do next, the samurai gazedout on the sparkling water. He saw something gleamingin the sunlight, half buried in the mud. The samuraiwalked into the water and pulled the object up. Hecleaned it o; it was a rusted metal breastplate, notunlike his own.

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Howd this get here? the samurai asked andfelt an enormous hand close around his neck.

Apparently, they didnt tell you how the lastguy lost his job.

Te End...

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Silver Wings By Patricia Morse-McNeely


Love spreads silvry wings

To soar in Joy forever

Over restless seas.

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The

Roof Deckers

TaleStory by Stuart MooreIllustrations by Ryan Kelly

A Story of the Broken Land(Inspired by the Japanese Tale of the Stonecutter)

In a time very much like this one, yet very unlike it aswell, there lay beneath the stars a mighty village calledBreuckelen. In that village lived a man called Skye, who

made beautiful Roof Decks. He made small ones for apartmentbuildings and huge, lavish Decks for restaurants. He built sturdyfences, selected the most comfortable weatherproof chairs,placed lovely potted plants in just the right spots where the windwould not blow them away. He was known and loved throughoutBreuckelen, from the Flatlands of the east all the way up to the

northern Wall of Wick; but mostly he plied his trade in theGardens, the oldest and most venerable part of the village.

One very hot day, Skye was laboring atop the lavish brownstoneof a Rich Man, a composer whose popular songs had earned himwealth both from nearby and from foreign lands. The Rich Manhad demanded only the nest furnishings. The chairs were to beergonomically perfect, the overhead awning must be retractable.The fence was imported, and not from Sweden either.

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The Roof was also to have a Wet Bar installed, and Skye hadjust punched a hole through the ceiling to run the piping up andoutside. Inside the building it was cool, because the Rich Man hadinstalled Central Air Conditioning, which was almost unheard

of in Breuckelen. But when Skye climbed back up to the Roof tonish connecting the plumbing, the sun beat down on him, and hepaused in his labors to wipe his brow.

Now, Skye had an assistant named Tierra. Tierra had a goodheart and clever hands, but his attention span was not of the best.Skye glanced over at the edge of the roof, where Tierra was layingdown the tiles that would hold the Deck on top of them, providingcushion for moisture and for the uneven nature of BreuckelensRoofs. Tierra was smiling, enjoying his work, but Skye saw that hewas laying the pieces down in the wrong pattern. If he continuedin that way, the tiles would not line up properly to cover the entireRoof. Skye opened his mouth to speak...

...but then he was overcome by a wave of despair. He thoughtof all the many years hed labored, the dozens of wonderful RoofDecks he had constructed. And what had it gotten him? Callousedhands, a small apartment in the basement of another Rich Mansbuilding, and no one to go home to. He worked on Roofs, every day

of his life, but he lived in the lowest spot a man could live.I wish I were a Rich Man,he whispered.Immediately, Skye sensed a presence, a stirring in the air. He

glanced all around, at the scattered tiles, at the plastic-sheathedchairs, the half-installed piping. Dust rose from the Roof itself,sudden yet graceful and slow...sparkling, eerie, mystical. Itshimmered in the bright sun, sweeping up and swirling all aroundhim like a shroud of light.

Now, Breuckelen was not like other villages you may have seen.It was a place of Magicks, intricate and mysterious. In the south,a column of smoke rose forever without re to fuel it. In theFlatlands, the dark-ashing unsects swarmed. And in the Gardens,where Skye plied his trade, the dust rose from sewers and pipes,from streets and from Roofs. It had been known to grant miracles.

Skye had heard legends. Tales of the Five Kings, or maybe Six,

The Roof Deckers Tale

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Fables for Japan: Book I


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who ruled Breuckelen from the shadows, who had kept it safe fromthe outside world for hundreds of years. No mortal man had everseen them, but the legends said that the smoke and the dust andthe unsects and the Wall were gifts from the Kings. Gift or not, the

dust whirled around Skye now like a tiny tornado, whipping intohis eyes. He blinked, shook his head, and when he opened his eyes,the dust was gone.

Nothing seemed dierent. The piping still stood next to him,waiting to be attached. Tierra hummed to himself, still blithelylaying out tiles in the wrong order. Again Skye began to speak;but again, something stopped him. Without a word, he droppedhimself back down through the skylight, descended the stairs, andexited the building. He felt a sense of elation, as if great thingswere about to happen. As he walked away down the street, hecould hear Tierra calling to him from the Roof, puzzlement in theboys voice.

Ten minutes later, Skye descended the few short outdoor steps tohis apartment door. But when he tried the key, it would not work.He climbed the steps to the buildings main entrance, dreadingthe talk hed have with Mister Nein, the Rich Man who owned thebuilding. Had Mister Nein changed the locks? If so, why?

Skye paused before the buildings large, main door. On a whim,he tried his key in the lock.

It clicked. The door opened.

As Skye crept inside, his eyes grew wide. Hed been to MisterNeins apartment before; but now everything was dierent. A lush,Victorian staircase rose straight ahead; the foyer and living roomstood unwalled, as if the building had never been subdivided

into separate apartments. He ran from room to room, excited.The kitchen had a lovely marble countertop; the den boasted atelevision screen that lled one entire wall. The bedroom wasalmost lled with a beautiful canopy bed, lushly made up with silksheets. And on the dresser sat photographs of Skye, his parents,and his many brothers and sisters, all lovingly framed in gold andsilver.

With a shock, he realized: I live here.


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I am a Rich Man.

And then an even greater excitement came over him. Hebounded up the stairs, climbed a short staircase to the Roof, andhis breath caught with joy at the sight. Beautiful, tasteful chairs:

lawn chairs and easy chairs and chaise lounges, each one theperfect combination of weatherproof and tasteful. Tall pottedtrees, shielding the Roof just enough from the glare of the sun. Afull-sized barbecue grill hooked up to a sink and Wet Bar, and akeg of fresh, lovely Beer leading to a tap on the sink.

Soon Skye was seated on the chaise lounge, leaning back, themost delicious East India Pale Ale hed ever tasted still tingling onhis tongue. He smiled, then realized his smile seemed forced. He

was a Rich Man; he had his wealth, his own building, even his ownRoof Deck. And yet...

A noise wafted up to him from the street: music, loud andpumping. Skye rose and crept to the edge of the Roof, leaningover the fence, which was constructed of the nest oak. Below, aconvertible Sports Car sat idling at a trac light, top lowered tosoak in the sun. A brawny man in sunglasses sat at the wheel, onearm around a Beautiful Woman, while another Beautiful Woman

sat in the back seat, massaging his shoulders. As Skye watched, thelight turned green and the car sped away, roaring with horsepower,urban music, and the laughter of its three riders.

Without even thinking, Skye said:I wish I had a Sports Car andBeautiful Women.

Again the dust swirled and shook, and Skye found himselfbehind the wheel of a sleek, gleaming Sports Car. Next to him sat avery Beautiful Woman, slim and tall with long dark hair, her teeth

gleaming unnaturally white as she smiled at him adoringly. Frombehind him, a pair of lean, rm hands massaged his shoulders, andthen another pair joined in. With a start, Skye realized: The dusthas given me three Beautiful Women.

Skye drove and smiled and laughed for an hour. The Womenwere indeed Beautiful. The one was fair with dark hair, anotherwas blonde, and the third had lovely dark skin. But something,still, was missing. Whenever Skye tried to talk to the Women,


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all they did was laugh. He wasnt sure if they were real or justmanifestations of the dust, but with a pit-deep feeling he realizedhe didnt belong with them.

When he stopped for a light, Skye heard a roar overhead. He

looked up and saw a small Private Plane, ying lower than usual,dipping and swooping in the air. And again without planning it, hewhispered:I wish I had a Private Plane.

When the dust receded again, Skye found himself far above thestreets of Breuckelen, soaring and lurching in his very own one-passenger Private Plane. He panicked for a moment, then realizedto his shock that he knew how to steer the Plane. He banked andswung about, dipping down and climbing up again toward the sun,

then leveled out again and took a good look around him.Skye had never seen Breuckelen from this height before. He

gazed at the smoke of Gravesend rising up from its ashy source;then he turned northward, where he could just make out the Wallrising slowly, a few feet each year, around the area called Bushwick.He swung his little plane back around, cleaving back over thePoisoned Canal, through a small cloud of unsects which asheddark at his approach.

And Skye realized he was lonely.Up ahead lay the Gardens, three- and four-story buildings with

at Roofs, all glittering with a sheen of dust. And down there onone of the Roofs, just barely visible from this altitude, stood Tierra,Skyes former assistant. He was laying out tile for a small, modestRoof Deck and, even from this height, Skye could see that he wasdoing it wrong.

A yearning began to grow in Skyes mind...and then, suddenly,

he felt a prickling on his neck. The air seemed to roil; a dark cloudpassed beneath the sun. Before him, behind him, all around him,Skye sensed a presence. He thought he saw a very old, stern face,dark and growling and monocle-eyed, looming twenty feet tallagainst the clouds.

Somehow, Skye knew he was in the presence of Broch, rstamong Kings and hidden ruler of the Gardens, oldest of the Six


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Towns of Breuckelen.

One more, Broch saidwithout speaking. Onemore wish.

Skye swallowednervously.

I wish I were a RoofDecker again,he said.

And then Skye wasdown there on the littleRoof, shaking his head

and scowling as Tierramislaid the tiles. Skyeshoved the boy aside,gru but friendly, andstarted pointing andrearranging the pieces.Tierra nodded, smiled,and reached out hisclever ngers to follow his

mentors lead.Never again, after that

day, did Skye wish to beother than a Roof Decker,the nest Roof DeckerBreuckelen had everknown. And never againdid Broch appear before a

mortal, to tempt him withthe Magicks of the dust.That we know of, anyway.

End


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The Butterfly By Patricia Morse-McNeely

Illustration by Risa Horiuchi

Fragile folded wings

Light upon my ngertips

A trembling now gone.

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There Were Pixies Dancing

Written by Matt Funk, Illustrations by Yao Xiao

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There were pixies dancing. A dozen tiny naked femaleforms itted and dashed about an intricately designed

circle of leaves, twigs and grasses. Their bodies, nobigger than a mans nger, glowed in every shade of pink andpurple. Wings like a butterys carried them gracefully throughthe air, their hair adorned with all manner of ora owingweightlessly behind them. They danced their mysterious dancearound the circle, for it was the rst day of spring, and the dance ofthe pixies had begun.

They had all emerged from their dens that morning after a longsleep through the winter, and immediately took to arranging thepetals for their ritual. When they completed the dance, their magicwould be released and spring would ocially start.

A prince came tromping through the woods, on the hunt for aprincess, or a stag, or a dragon or whatever it is that princes hunt inthe woods. He searched and trudged through the trees and brushwhen he stumbled upon the pixies and their dance.

How peculiar!thought the prince.I wonder what manner ofinsect they are. The prince crept closer to the circle, and saw thepixies for what they really were.

Pixies! he exclaimed. Impossible!

The prince startled the pixies with his shouting, and theyscattered away into the bushes and trees. They peered out at theprince from behind leaves and branches, waiting for him to leave.

No, dont go! he said. I wont hurt you.

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One of the pixies uttered its wings nervously and came outfrom its hiding place. The prince held out his palm, inviting her tocome to him. She warily oated over, landed in his hand, and sat.

The prince raised her to eye level and examined her.

Well arent you beautiful? the prince said to her. She pulled herlegs in close timidly and turned away, as if she were embarrassed.

There were Pixies Dancing

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She said something to the prince in a quiet, high-pitched voice, buthe couldnt hear her. What was that? Can you speak louder?

She tried again, but she was too small, and her voice wouldntreach his ears.

I wish I could hear what you were saying. I imagine you have alovely voice. Im sure I could hear it if we were the same size.

Hearing this, the pixie perked up, and uttered happily up tothe princes mouth. She tossed some sparkling dust on his lips andkissed them gently. There was a ash of golden light and the princewas no longer there, only a pile of fancy clothes where his feet hadbeen. The pixies all came from their hiding places and searchedthe clothes. They found the prince, tiny and naked, buried under

his trousers. He tried, in vain, to cover himself.

What happened? he cried. Why am I tiny?

You wished to be the same size as me, so that you may hearwhat I was saying, said the pixie he once held in his palm.

I wanted you to be big, not me tiny! he declared.

Well you should have specied, then. At least you can hear menow, like you wanted, yes?

I didnt want it that bad! cried the prince.

Well, said the pixie, obviously oended, now you wont get tohear it at all.

The pixies gathered their petals from the ground and ew ointo the woods to complete their dance elsewhere. The princestood there, tiny, naked, and alone.

A gnome emerged from the trunk of a nearby tree and plodded

clumsily over to the prince.I seen the whole thing, said the gnome. She cast a spell yeh.

How can I break it?

Yeh gotta kiss a prinsis of course, the gnome chortled.

Where could I nd a princess around here? the prince saidsadly.


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Well, the gnome chuckled, you already kissed one.

The princes shoulders slumped and he fell to the ground with ahopeless thud.

Best be mindin yer manners next time, purty boy.

End


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KitsuneWritten by Nancy A. CollinsIllustrations by Phillip Hester

(Inspired by the print The Fox-Woman Kuzunoha Leaving Her Child by Yoshitoshi)

Th is story begins a very long time ago, before the aairs ofgods and demons were made separate from the humanworld. Back in those far-away days there was a samurai of

the Mononobe clan named Isamu, who, in his youth, had beena brave warrior, but later in life proved to be a bad drunk and aneven worse gambler. In the end, his luck with the dice cups wassuch that he lost all his money. Shamed by his actions, Isamucommitted seppuku. As he was a widower, his young son, Ryoichi,was forced to make his way by himself.

Since his fathers creditors had taken everything, Ryoichi had

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no choice but to leave Yamato Province for the isolated wildernessof the Aomori Prefecture. It was there that his family had a tinycountry estate, in the foothills of the Hakkda Mountains. Theestate had seen better days, as its garden was overgrown and

untended, and its roof extremely leaky.Since Ryoichi could not aord servants, he had to do everything

himself, from re-thatching his roof to chopping wood for his re. Itwas hard, humbling work for the son of a samurai, but eventuallyRyoichi no longer missed the soft living and easy pleasures ofthe city and came to love the wild beauty of the mountains thatsurrounded him.

One day, while he was chopping wood, a fox ran into his garden.

The creature froze upon espying him with a raised axe, a look ofmortal terror in its glittering, dark eyes. Ryoichi heard huntersfrom the local village shouting to one another in the near distance.His heart went out to the little fox and he lowered his axe. You arewelcome to hide in my woodpile, little one, until you are safe.

As quick as a wink, the fox disappeared into the stack ofrewood, just as two hunters arrived in the dooryard. The menwere surprised to see someone living in the house, as it had been

empty for such a long time. Are you a real man, or are you aghost? one of the hunters asked.

Would a ghost have to chop wood to stay warm or cook hisfood? Ryoichi replied.

This answer seemed to satisfy the men. Have you seen a fox runby this way? asked the second hunter. Ryoichi shook his head no.The hunters decided to resume their search elsewhere, but beforethey left they warned Ryoichi to beware of any fox he might see.

You city folk do not realize it, but the kitsune in these mountainsare very tricky. Sometimes they steal chickens; sometimes theywalk on two legs and pretend to be humans. In any case, theycause a lot of trouble.

Ryoichi waited until the hunters were gone, and then called outto the fox hiding in the woodpile. It is safe to come out, little one.No one will hurt you now. The fox crept out from its hiding placeand quickly ed back into the woods, but not before turning to x.

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Ryoichi with anintelligent gaze that was farfrom bestial.

The next morning

Ryoichi awoke to hearsomeone sobbing outsidehis front door. To hissurprise he found a younggirl, naked except forsmears of mud, her hairwild and full of tangles andbrambles, huddled on theporch. Ryoichi wrapped ablanket about her to coverher shame and then drewwater and lit a re so thatshe could clean herself.Once properly bathed andclothed, the girl proved tobe a stunning beauty.

My name is Moriko, she

told him. I was travellingwith my family when wewere set upon by a bandof oni. My father and hisservants were brutallykilled and eaten by themonsters, who cookedthem on spits like roastedpigs. The only reason I wasnot killed as well is thatthey wanted to fatten meup for later. But during the

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night the oni bandits became drunk and careless, and I was ableto slip my bonds and escape. You are a very kind and honorableman, Ryoichi-san, and I owe you my life. Had you not heard mycries and taken pity on me, I most certainly would have died of

exposure. Now listen carefully, for I have a secret I must tell you.Before the oni overtook our party, my father hid the treasure hewas carrying so the bandits would not nd it. I will take you to it, ifyou agree to make me your wife. The only thing I ask of you is thatyou never again ask about my family or my past.

Even if there was no treasure involved, Ryoichi was more thanwilling to agree to Morikos terms, for he was bewitched by herastounding beautyin particular her darkly shining eyes. Morikothen led him through the woods to a foxs den at the base of an oldtree trunk. Ryoichi reached inside and pulled out ve times whathis father had lost at the gaming house in gold and jewels.

Ryoichi was good to his word and made Moriko his bride, andused the fortune from the foxs den to re-establish his familysname to its former glory, if not greater. He soon left the HakkdaMountains and returned to Yamato Province, where he bought agrand house for his new wife.

Good fortune smiled on Ryoichi for many years. He grewincreasingly wealthy and powerful, becoming a favorite of theEmperor. His marriage to Lady Moriko was a happy one and heremained true to his word and never once, during the years of theirmarriage, did he ask about her people or the life she had knownbefore she came to his door step.

Yet for all their happiness and success, Lord Ryoichi and LadyMoriko remained childless. One day Lord Ryoichis advisors cameto him and begged him to take a concubine in order to sire an heir.

Unknown to the men, Lady Moriko overheard their conversation.That night, as she lay with her husband, she asked him howimportant it was for him to have an heir.

Every man desires a son to carry on his name and plans,Ryoichi replied. Otherwise all he has accomplished is lost to thewinds upon his death.

Then you shall have a son, Lady Moriko replied. But it will

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come at a price, I fear. Sure enough, Lady Moriko was soon withchild. And when the time came, she delivered to Lord Ryoichi ane, healthy son, with dark glittering eyes like his mother, whothey named Satoru.

However, with the birth of their child, Lady Moriko underwenta strange change. She became increasingly distant, often sittingup all night in the garden and staring at the moon. Lord Ryoichiwas uncertain what to do, as his duties often called for him to beaway from his family. Whenever he would return from one of thesejourneys, he would nd his beloved wife more and more remote, asif she was listening to music only she could hear.

Then, one night, the Lady Moriko said to her husband: It has

been a long time since I lost my family and came to live with you. Iyearn to see the forests of Aomori and the mountains of Hakkdaonce again. Please take me back to where we rst met, so I mayhonor my fathers memory.

Ryoichi agreed to her request and ordered that the householdbe packed up and moved to the country place in the foothills,which was now a ne estate worthy of a man of his station. Upontheir arrival, the Lady Morikos mood seemed much improved, as

if the closeness of the wilderness had revitalized her. Ryoichi wasgladdened to see how she led their little son on walks through thewood, pointing out and naming every tree, animal, bird and oweras they went.

Then one night, when the moon was bright, Lady Moriko left herslumbering husband and crept into the room her young son sharedwith his nursemaid. Weeping silently, she kissed her sleeping songently on the forehead. Wakened by the fall of his mothers tears,Satoru sat up and grabbed at her kimono, to keep her from leaving.

Lady Moriko looked down at her son one last time, but now shehad the head of a fox, not that of a beautiful woman. Satoru criedout in fright and let go of his mothers hem, and the fox-womanescaped into the night.

The next morning the Lady Morikos kimono, comb and sandalswere found on the nearby river bank. Although there was nobody, it was assumed that she had thrown herself into the frigid

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rapids. The loss of his wife shattered Lord Ryoichis heart and,some whispered, his mind as well, and a year after Lady Morikosdisappearance, Lord Ryoichi followed his wife into the afterlife,leaving poor Satoru both an orphan and heir to a princely legacy.

Unlike his own father, Lord Ryoichi did not leave his son withoutresources and guidance. In his will he assigned Satorus welfare andeducation to three of his most loyal retainers: a priest, a samurai,and a nursemaid. The nurse was to see to the boys physical needs,and became his mother in everything but esh. The samurai wasto serve as executor of the estate and advisor to the boy, as well asinstruct him in the way of the sword and the code of Bushid. Thepriest was to instruct Satoru in the scholarly arts and mysteries.Satoru proved to be an apt pupil, growing up with a mind as sharpas the katana he wielded.

Upon his twentieth birthday, Satoru was declared the master ofhis house and set o to present himself to the Emperor, as was thecustom. Before he left, he kissed his old nursemaid goodbye and,dressed in his manly robes, headed o for the Imperial Palace withthe samurai and the priest. Along the way, they stopped at an inn,where they dined and rested for the night. However Satoru wasunable to fall asleep, so he decided to go for a walk in the night air.

During his midnight stroll he came upon a fox seated on thetrunk of a fallen tree. Satoru knew that this was not a normal fox,for it had seven tails, which marked it as one of the kitsune, fabledfox-spirits that haunt the Japanese countryside.

Do not be afraid, Satoru, the kitsune said. I mean you noharm, for I am your mother, the Lady Moriko. Satoru rememberedthe strange, frightening dream he had as a child, and instantlyknew that the creature spoke the truth. Please forgive me for

leaving you behind, but I had to return to my people. I neverintended for my beloved to die of grief and leave you orphaned.Still, your father made sure you were raised strong, wise and kind.Now it is my turn to bestow a gift. With that the kitsune spat apearl onto the forest oor. It was the size of a mans thumb andglowed with the celestial light known as foxre. I give you thegreatest bequest my kind has to oer---my hoshi no tama, my starball. It contains all my wisdom, my knowledge, and my power.

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Consume it and from now on,where once you only looked;now you will see. Satoru didas his fox-mother commanded

and swallowed the star ball.Now it is time for me to joinyour father, Lady Moriko said.But know that part of me liveswithin you. With that theseven-tailed fox sprang up intothe air and disappeared. Satorureturned to the inn and went tosleep.

Once young Lord Satorunally reached YamatoProvince, he went to theImperial Court, where he wasto pledge his devotion andhis sword to the Emperor.Satoru had spent most of hislife in relative isolation in the

wilderness of Aomori, and wasnot accustomed to the eeteaectations of the courtiers,who laughed into their sleevesat the sight of a countrybumpkin in their midst.

Suddenly there was the soundof gongs and trumpets, andthe Emperor entered the courtroom in the company of hisretinue. Satoru kow-towed sothat his head touched the oor.But upon rising, he was shockedto see a fearsome oni standingnext to the Emperors throne.The ogres skin was blood-

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red and had wild, tangledhair with a pair of ox-hornsgrowing from its skull, andthree large, staring eyes.

Without thinking twice, theyoung prince leapt up andcut o the demons head!

The gathered courtiersand their ladies screamed interror, and Satoru was seizedby armed soldiers. Whatmanner of madness is this?demanded the Captain ofthe Imperial Guard. Youhave killed Lord Torao, theEmperors adviser!

I am as sane as you, butnot as blind! Satoru replied,pointing to the head thatnow lay on the oor of thethrone room. Can you not

see that I killed a monster,not a man? The soldiersand courtiers looked whereSatoru pointed and cried out

again, this time in horror,to see the severed head

of a red-skinned oni inplace of that of LordTorao!

The Emperor ordered hismen to let go of the youngprince, who knelt beforehim in humble abasement.You have served me well,Lord Satoru, as your fatherdid before you. By ridding

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my court of this foul demon, I give you my youngest daughter,Princess Kimiko.

And that is how Lord Satoru became the Emperors son-in-law and adviser on his rst day in the Imperial Court. Over the

years Lord Satoru and Princess Kimiko lived a long and happy lifetogether, and had many ne sons and daughters, all of whom grewup to be heroes, scholars and poets, and all of whom were bravelike their father, beautiful like their mother, and had glitteringblack eyes like a fox.

End

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Writing Love By Patricia Morse-McNeely


Who writes Loves sweet name

Across Lifes blue sunlit sky

Writes Eternity.

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SunandMoonWritten by Matt Funk

Illustrated by Amy Evans

One morning, the sun woke up early and decided to go visitthe moon.

Good morning, said the moon. What has you up atsuch an hour?

I felt I needed to talk to you, Ms. Moon, replied the sun.

Well you best make it quick. You know Mother Earth doesntlike me talking to you. And you know how jealous Mars can get.

Mars is always trying to pick ghts with everyone, the sun said.

What is it that you wanted to talk to me about?

I was wondering if youd consider running away with me andtravelling the universe together.

Thats quite a proposition! exclaimed the moon. What causedyou to think of such a thing?

I had a dream, said the sun, and in it, the sky wasnt so black Itwas lled with thousands of little suns, sparkling happily. I believethat you were their mother.

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The moon was silent for a moment.

I love you, Lady Moon, said the sun.

At that moment, Mother Earth awoke and saw the two talking.

And just what do you think you are doing young lady?! sheyelled at the moon. Ive told you to never talk to him. Hes not tfor you.

Maam... started the sun, before he was cut o.

Ill hear none of it! Mother Earth blurted. Get out of here!

The sun turned away from the moon and solemnly walked backacross the sky. But, just as the sun was about to cross the horizon,he heard the moons voice:

I love you too!

They both smiled at each other from opposite ends of the sky,and the sun walked back to his home.

Mother Earth has kept them apart as best she could, but once ina while, the sky will darken in mid-day, as the sun and moon meetin the sky. And each time, a few more stars add a little bit of hopeto the night sky.

End

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ResurrectionPoem by Patricia Morse-McNeely

Painting by Ross Carnes

Along the tree limb, slowly moving

A caterpillar in her dull brown hair,

Seeking shelter mid whispering leaves

Readying for Fall and regretting, grieves

Upon a chosen spot, the pillar stays

Viewing Nature, feeling the waves

Rippling among her soft hairs

Reassuring touch

God cares.

Painstakingly she begins to spin

The soft whitish con-hell to enter

Resting there within

And days will pass as soft she sleeps

Through the days Time ever keeps

Until the day Gods Son breaks through

To call her forth, a creature new,

Filmy something on her back slow drying,

Knowing a cocoon was not a place of dying,

But transformation to a life renewed

In another form, by eyes neer viewed

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Film along a body slim, stretching to the skyLike petaled owers wings become to let her y,

Revealing myriads of each rainbow hue,

Gods color palette through which she ew

From the tomb-cocoon, all fresh and new

Into the sky, itting on winds breezing

And to Mans eyes, most greatly pleasing

A Buttery!

Resurrection from past sorrow

Into the life of Joys tomorrow

Angels wings adding joy-color soft

To the beauty of blue skies aloft

Many colored patterns create song

As her brothers, sisters come along

To ll new days with joyous laughter

Bring Life that lives forever after

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The buttery whose metamorphosis

Reminds what Mankinds life on Earth is:

Work and striving, and through the tomb to

Joyous song, Lifes Resurrection andEternal Life anew!

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The Samurai

By Christopher Clements

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Aging Hearts By Patricia Morse-McNeely


The mocking bird high

On tree limb, blue sky, white clouds

Echoing his love.

Time slips by, age creeps

Slow, leaves only memories

Of youth and loving.

Songs of old wood hearts Back to Spring dreams of sweet scents,

Violets and Roses.

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A Hevenly Message By Patricia Morse-McNeely


Cross, arm broke, oating

In heavens high blue, angels,

White clouds pursuing.

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It is said that the Haru-Dori, the spring birds, sing thememory of Hiroko, the blessed child. The islanders ofYakushima claimed she was the daughter of a great spirit, for

her sweet voice was lilting and her very presence lled their heartswith peace. Many would travel to see her at the Shinto temple thatwas nestled within the forest of the island. There they sought herblessings and wisdom.

When Hiroko came of age, wealthy suitors brought herextravagant gifts, seeking her aection. Chests lled with jewelryfashioned from jade and sapphire, silks of brilliant hues, andgarments that paled next to her beauty, were laid at her feet.However, she refused them all in turn saying, My love is not

bound in gifts of the world.Akio, a sherman from the village of Anbou, also sought Hirokos

attention, for his love was as deep for her as the oceans he sailed.Having little in the way of money, and determined to show his lovefor her, Akio set to make a gift for her. Finding a log of driftwoodupon the shore, he patiently carved into it until all that was leftwas a rounded shape the size of a coconut. He painted the bulkof the wood red with yellow trimmings, to depict a small robe. He

added a white face with a black beard. Where the pupils should be,he left blank. In a ash of inspiration, he axed tiny limbs to thebody then sat back to admire his work. Before him sat a Darumadoll, a great talisman, said to be able to grant wishes. Akio waspleased.

That evening, Akio carried Daruma to the Shinto Temple. At thegates he steeled himself, determined to present the doll to Hirokowith pride. Crossing the grounds, Akio caught sight of her radiance

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through the windows. Doubt struck his heart. How could she everaccept anything from him, a poor sherman? Feeling ashamed ofhis work, Akio crept to the temple steps, laid down the doll uponthe wooden oor and departed in silence.

Hiroko, sensing a presence outside, went to greet the visitor atthe temple entrance. There she only found the Daruma. The dollsbulbous body and tiny limbs delighted her. Picking up the gift,she placed a gentle kiss upon its forehead. As her red lips brushedagainst the wood, a portion of her spirit entered the doll. The sparkof life washed over Daruma and a black circle formed in the emptyspace of his left eye.

Hiroko asked Daruma, Tell me, small one. Who made you and

brought you to me?My rst memory is of a kiss upon my head, sweet girl. Before

this, I know nothing.

Hiroko frowned, then placed her cheek against Darumas woodenface. She whispered her wish.

Daruma replied, It shall be done.

That following morning, Tempest, a malecent typhoon, roared

in the east. His hatred for all mankind and their creations burnedwithin him. He thundered across the sky, racing toward Yakushima- destruction set in his heart. Frightened, the villagers hid withintheir homes, shuttered their windows, and huddled together. ButHiroko was not afraid.

Battling the thrashing wind, Hiroko fought to reach the shore ofthe island. She oered a soothing song to assuage Tempests fury.But he was unmoved. Calling up a tremendous wave, he sweptacross Yakushima.

Tempests wrath was brief but terrible. The surviving villagerscried out for mercy, taking their prayers to the Shinto temple.There they discovered Hiroko, washed onto the grounds. She wasalive but gravely injured. The villagers rushed to her aid. Theymade her a warm bed, brought healing salves to tend her wounds,and oered prayers. What comforts they could spare they gaveto her. But each day she grew more ill. As time passed the weight

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of their own troubles became too much to bear. With reluctancein their hearts, they left Hiroko, to focus on rebuilding their ownlives.

One evening, while the dying Hiroko slept, Daruma whispered

into her ear, I have not forgotten you. How you gave a partof yourself to me. I will nd a way to save you. With that, hedeparted into the forest.

The trees above him, weakened by the storm, groaned andswayed with menace. His tiny legs fought against thick underbrushand his eye found it dicult to see through the dark shadows.

High above, a tree limb splintered and broke free, it crashednext to Daruma, sending up a shower of dirt. Like a chorus, more

limbs cried out as they cracked and fell to the earth. The tiny dolltried with all his spirit to run from the cascading branches, but hisshort legs and rotund body worked against him. A monstrous limbstruck him upon the back with such force that he was propelledthrough the air. Daruma was spinning wildly before he crunchedagainst the trunk of a large cedar tree, causing a mass of branchesto loosen and rain down upon him. Hirokos spirit within Darumapulsed faintly and despair shrouded over him.

Not yet willing to give in, Daruma fought against the weight ofhis wooden prison. He pushed against the mass of sticks. Whatlittle strength he had left was being sapped, when a pair of handswrapped around his body and tenderly lifted Daruma from thedebris.

Darumas vision could not distinguish the man in the dark.

How did you get so far, my little man? The spirit withinDaruma stirred at the mans voice. The blank space, where his right

eye should be, lled with a black spot.By the sound of your voice, I am whole. By seeing you, I know

my makers face at last. Akio.

Akio grinned down upon Daruma, And I sense the spirit ofHiroko in you. I was at sea when the great Tempest brought hisanger upon the island and I was lost in the ocean. Having returned,I was given word that she is ill. Has death taken her?

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No, great Akio, she still lives but barely so. I plead to you, just asyou have rescued me from death, rescue her.

Together they hastened to the temple. Akio came upon thesleeping Hiroko, her face ashen. Going to her side, he took her

hand in his. Akios own spirit, like a brilliant light, issued from hischest. It wove down his arm and washed over Hiroko.

With a gasp, she sat up. Her cheeks ushed a soft pink, and hereyes shone with brilliance.

Seeing Daruma whole at the foot of her bed, she turned to Akio,You! You are the one who crafted my Daruma. Had it not been forhim, I would have surely perished. Of all the suitors, you showedcare and humility. And for you, my sweet companion, she turned

her radiant gaze to Daruma, you have done what I wished andfound your maker. Never before has a Daruma doll been moredeserving of his eyes than you.

As the sun rose and cast its renewing light upon the temple, theHaru-Dori began to sing. From that day Akio and Hiroko neverparted, and the faithful Daruma rested upon their mantle, content,for the rest of his days.

End

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Biography of LoveWritten by Patricia Morse-McNeelyIllustrated by Ayan Sengupta

I

LOVE BLOOMS Like a rose Love blooms Deep roots in the secret soil

Of the human heart.

II

MY CHILDREN They come my children

Like owers in Spring bringing

Joy to waning years.

III

OLD AGE Winter snow lies white

Upon golden strands fading

In Lifes setting sun.

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IV

GRANDCHILDREN Snow white blossoms on

A black bough hail the coming

Of new life from old.

V

THE ENDING The Sun sets on Life

As the Soul passes the Gate

To enter the Light.

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Sun and Rain By Patricia Morse-McNeely


Sunshine without rain, Happiness without sorrow

Creates no rainbows.

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HealerWritten by Mary Elizabeth Hall

Illustrations by Kristen Grace Hall

Springtime brings new lifeDeath of winter overcome,

Sorrow turns to hope

The Emperor lay dying. Ayame, his only daughter, rested herforehead upon his chest.

Emi-Shou, the Bird of Healing, will come, he whisperedas he turned his head toward the terrace doorway, where bare treesarched fragile limbs toward the winter sky.

Ayame wept. Her elder brothers, evil of heart and desperate fortheir fathers power and wealth, had released the palace cats todrive away Emi-Shou.

Many days passed, and Spring wove her jade silk tapestry overthe mountains. Ayame knelt beside her father and watched theslow rise and fall of his breathing. One morning, a utter drew hergaze to the terrace. Emi-Shou! The brilliantly colored bird clutchedat the railing with one claw, then another. Emi-Shou fell from theterrace and into a barberry bush below. Ayame rushed out anddown the steps. She lifted the wounded creature from the bushand brought her inside.

O Emi-Shou! she cried. The Healing Bird was a golden dovewith trailing plumes and ruby feathered crest. Delicate ink brushstrokes lined azure eyes like those of a waxwing. The birds chesttrembled.

My heart desires to heal your father. Emi-Shous thin voice

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fractured like a porcelain teacup. But I cannot. That which is mostprecious to me has been taken by the Water Dragon who dwellswithin the Mount, and feline claws have

What are you doing? Ayames third eldest brother, Subro, burst

into the room.No! Ayame shouted as he strode toward her. She clutched the

bird to her chest.

Out with it! The young mans face was hard as int as hesnatched Emi-Shou from her grasp and hurled the bird away,between blossoming plum trees.

Ayame clutched her face and slumped to the oor with a wail.

And out with you as well. Subro yanked his sister up by her arm,then hastened her toward another room. He dumped her on a oormat then latched the door. Whispers in the corridor a momentlater left Ayame with no doubt that her seven brothers wereconferring. The hissing voice of her eldest brother, Taro, stood outamong the rest.

She must die.

Ayame gathered her kimono skirt and crept out the window. She

searched around the outside of the palace until she found what shesought.

The crumpled bird lay under a owering quince bush. Bright redblossoms reected Emi-Shous lifeblood, now pooled beneath her.

Tiny eyes, faded to gray, blinked up at Ayame. My treasure canheal your father. Her eyes closed and she lay still.

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It took Ayame three arduous days and nights to make herway through the forest and up the steep mountainside, to

the small opening from which steam rose at sunrise each day. Shehad no bow or saber, and could only hope to snatch the treasureand ee, then nd enough roots and berries to sustain her as shereturned to the palace.

Then she would face her brothers.

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I must heal my father.

Shed been foolish to keep her brothers treachery from him. Hemust choose a dierent successor. One who would be faithful. Onewho would be worthy to govern her people.

Hiding herself in a stand of bamboo near the cave, she peeredthrough misty shadows and waited patiently for the suns morninglight to sweep down from the highest peaks and reach the opening.Did the legends speak truth? Did the Water Dragon indeed live inthis place?

A burst of steam billowed from the cave.

Fear twisted Ayames heart. Who am I to approach such a beast?

I am no more than a child.The rst golden ray stretched into the misty darkness. Ayame

gasped as a blaze of blue sparkles danced in reection throughoutthe cave. The Water Dragon! No doubt remained in her mind.The creature was here. Overwhelmed with desire to run, her feetarched to spring deeper into bamboo shadows.

I am the Emperors daughter.

She clenched her sts and stepped forward.

Ryu, the Water Dragon, lay curled around a small gold object.Was this Emi-Shous treasure? His immense body lled the cave,and vivid hues of blue shimmered as his scales moved in time withhis breathing.

I will approach with the stealth of a snake, then ease the treasurefrom his grasp.

She stepped toward him.

A snort of steam, and the creature lifted his head.Ayames heart hammered against her chest. Sorrowful eyes

peered out from the dragons curved, angular face. A long whiskerswept the ground on each side as he slowly turned toward her.

Run! I must run! She willed her feet to move, but they would not.

Be still, my child. His voice rumbled like distant thunder. Steamrose from the depths of the beasts long, sharp-toothed maw and

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yawning nostrils. It is about to begin. The dragon gazed down atthe golden object.

Ayame could not speak. She watched in silence as the objectbegan to shudder. A crack, then another, and a tiny beak poked

through the smooth, delicate shell. It was an egg! Emi-Shous child.Healing birds only produced a single female ospring during theirlifetimes. And if that egg were harmed

A little squeak, another shudder, and up popped a small, damphead. A baby bird opped over and wriggled out of the egg. Animage of Emi-Shou, the bird had a piece of shell covering oneblinking eye.

If I snatch the bird, can I evade the jaws of the beast?

Ayame stepped slowly, and reached out trembling ngers. Thedragon lifted his gaze and xed bright red eyes upon her. Ayameicked the shell piece o the babys head, then looked up at Ryu.Was the dragon smiling? And yet drooping folds beneath his eyesbespoke great sadness.

He drew in a great breath and slowly blew it onto the bird. Tinyfeathers uttered in the breeze. The bird closed its eyes.

When the birds eyes opened, it stood up straight and leveled itsgaze upon Ayame.

I am Ayaka-Shou. Her voice tinkled like small bells. Soaringower.

Ayame blinked, then looked up at the dragon. A sad smile curledthe corners of the creatures long snout. I, like you, was cast out bymy people, he whispered as he lay his massive head down on theground.

In the days before your world was formed, the Fire Dragonswaged war throughout the heavens. Sparks ew from their eryblasts and created the stars. The dragons tumbled through them asthey struggled for domination, and the constellations swirled intotheir places.

A prophecy foretold the coming of a blue Water Dragon thatwould bring healing, but when I was born among them they

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were overcome with jealousy. With a great lash of their tails theypropelled me far across the heavens.

His eyes closed partway, and blue sparkles danced over the wallsas he stretched his long body further across the wide cave.

I came to this place, a dry and barren world. I breathed healingwater vapor upon it for decades, then centuries. Life came intobeing, and soon teemed over the earth. I rejoiced in what hadcome to be, but then conict and jealousy sprang up among itspeople and mirrored the cruel spirit of the Fire Dragons. If thiscontinued, the dragons would surely be drawn here and consumethe earth in the blaze of their breath.

Fresh steam poured forth from his snout, and sorrow tore at his

words. I sought to end the evil by breathing healing water uponcruel men, but only stirred up more fury as they came to hunt me.I chose to hide myself here and breathe my healing power into theKen-Shou, the Healing Birds.

Ryus eyelids dropped, then opened again in gleaming slits. Ihave lived long, but my time has reached its end. Ayaka-Shou isthe last Healing Bird. She must be protected, and a Great Onemust rise up to lead the people out of strife. They must be made

to understand their danger. Only one who is true of heart can dothis. The dragon peered up at Ayame with a smile. Then he closedhis eyes and said no more.

Oh, Ryu, how can I bring such a message to our people? I, castout myself, will never be heard! She knelt by the dragon andcovered her eyes. Warm tears dripped onto the ground.

I will come with you.

Ayame peeked through her hands. Ayaka-Shou stood before herand blinked tiny eyes lled with wisdom. Ayame took the bird onher hand and looked sadly back at Ryu, then made her way downthe mountain.

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On the morning of the third day, the suns light outlined theroof and walls of the palace. Ayame gathered her kimonoand Ayaka-Shou, and stepped between trees.

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Ayame. It was Subro. Ayame gasped and jumped back.

I will not harm you, my sister. The young mans eyes wereswollen, and his voice broke with sorrow. Brother Taro has slainthe others. I alone escaped. He bowed his head. I beg your

forgiveness.She eyed him warily. Will you help me heal our father?

He glanced at the bird on her shoulder. His dark eyebrows lifted,and his face radiated hope. I will protect you from Taro if itrequires my last breath. We can enter through the spring. Come.

He extended his hand, and they crept together toward the palacewall. They crawled together through a dark, narrow tunnel through

which water entered the palace, and emerged beneath the bottomoor. Ayame wrung out the hem of her kimono, then gathered itin her hands, and followed Subro up narrow steps to the kitchens.Ayaka-Shou clung to her shoulder.

They came upon a young servant girl washing the oor.

Hotaru. Ayame whispered. The girls head popped up and tearsstreamed down her face.

You are well! She spoke quietly, and wiped her smiling cheeks.

Then her eyes widened in fear and she glanced around for listeningears. Your brother will

We know. Subro stepped around Ayame. Little rey, we mustask you to it to our fathers chambers and tell us whether he isalone.

She dashed o and quickly returned. Servants are with him, butthey will help you. Taro is not there.

Father! Ayame rushed to the Emperor a moment later. His eyesremained closed. Ayaka-Shou stepped onto his chest. The tiny birdwarbled a plaintive melody, and the elderly man looked up. Hiseyes brightened, and he rose from his mat.

Ayame grasped his hands and wept with joy. Then her heartwrung with sorrow. Father you must be told. Your eldest son, Taro,has killed all except

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The door opened. Ayame turned as Taro stepped in.

Subro snatched an ornamental saber from the wall and thrustit toward his brothers chest. The blade collided with Taros. Eyesblazing like cats, the two men circled each other. Dark hair ew

as Subro parried Taros weapon and struck again. Lithe as a snake,Taro leaped back, out onto the spacious terrace. Subro followed.He aimed to strike, then jumped and kicked his brothers knee.Taro buckled to the oor.

Subro lifted his saber.

Dont, my brother. Taros dark eyes pleaded. Subro hesitated,and Taros leg caught him on his side and knocked him down.Fool, snarled Taro as he made the killing thrust.

Ayame shrieked, then lifted her eyes at the sound of rushing, likemany winds. Ryus massive head rose behind Taro. With a greatbillow of steam, the dragon snatched Taro in his long jaws and,rearing high above the palace roof, cast him far out into the sea.

Ayame put her hands to her face.

You, Ayame. It is you who must prepare to lead your people.Ryus coppery eyes gazed tenderly at her.

Come, my child. The Emperor, tears rippling down hiscareworn face, drew her to his chest and wrapped his arms aroundher. I will teach you.

End

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The Birth of Spring By Patricia Morse-McNeely


There on the small bough,

Leaden still with pristine snow,

Tiny green buds wait.

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The earth moved beneath theBoys feet. His cat, Kibou, leaptfrom his arms as windows

shattered and great buildings swayedlike willows in the wind. He called forhis mother and father but there was noanswer. He shouted for his sisters, his

uncle, his grandmother but there wasno reply. The Boy fell to the ground,held himself tight, and waited for it allto stop.

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When the Boy opened his eyes,he was walking through thestreets of his village. How did he gethere? How long had he been walking?

The Boy could not remember. Hewalked past crying people, burningbuildings, and many other sights hewished he could un-see.

Suddenly, water rushed over hisbare feet. The trickle swelled intoa torrent that became a great wavetowering above the wreckage, rushingtoward him, devouring everything inits path. There was nowhere to run so

he spread his arms wide as the waveslammed into him. He was not crushedor swept away. Instead, the waterflooded through the Boy, ripping awayhis fear, sadness, and despair, his love,happiness, and hope. The great wavewashed away the land, leaving only anopen sea in its wake. A fine gray mistfell all around him.

The Boy stood alone, waist deep andnaked, a speck in the middle of a vastocean. Was he dead? No, but he wasntthere either, just an empty vessel set adrift.

He walked on.

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Water bogged him down deeper with each step yet he continuedto walk on. After some time, he didnt know how long, the Boysaw a figure floating through the mist. It drew closer and he couldsee a fox sitting on a plank of wood. Cloth hung from its mouth.

What an unusual thing, afox oating out here.

No more unusual thana naked boy wadingwaist deep but going

nowhere.

You canspeak?

Only when

spoken to.

I brought you a Jinbeito cover yourself.

Why? Everybody isgone. Who cares if

Im naked?

Well, Im still here.

Dress yourself.Everything is grey anddead, Fox. Shouldnt I

be sad?

If you want to,but the rice will

return.

Is that a riddle?

Fox said nothing, onlysmiled and disappearedinto the mist. The Boywalked on.

He walked for miles and years, or it could have beenfeet and seconds. All manner of measurement was gone.Only the water level changed. It was now just above hisknees. Landmarks began to appear, shadowy husks of

buildings and trees, just skeletons.

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One such husk, the Torii of an old shrine, emerged before the Boy. Amonkey sat atop.

Where are yougoing, Boy?

I dont know,

forward, Iguess.

Forward is adirection, not adestination.

I dont have adestination. Every

place is gone, washedaway.

Well this place

isnt gone. Itsstill here. And theEarth is always

pregnant.

More riddles?

You cannotcontinue forward,you must takeanother path.

But this is mypath.

Choose another. ADemon lies beyond thisgate. It will consume

you.The Boy looked past the Torii and saw

silhouettes of four damaged buildings onthe horizon. A vapor rose above them buthe saw no Demon. Then the vapor turnedtoward him. Glowing green slits appeared,opening like eyes, and beckoned the Boyforward. He walked through the Torii andinto the vapor. It wrapped around him,ready to clench like a fist.

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Before the Demoncould tighten its grip,a massive Dragon,

carrying five WarriorMonks burst fromthe water.

Get backBoy!

You shouldhave heeded

Monkeyswarning!

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The Dragon coiled around the Boy and the Demon fled.

What wasthat?

A terrible Oni,

and we will

stop him. Even at

the cost of our

lives!

Why? Nobodys leftto protect. Everyone

is gone.

In response,nine moreDragons, eachcarrying five

Monks apiece,erupted fromthe deep.

WE ARE STILL HERE!

The Monks all yelledas one.

Take my takuhatsugasa,

child. As protection

from the Onis poison.

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With that, ten Dragons and fiftyMonks flew to battle with the Oni.

The Boy watched them go and thenwalked back to the Torii where Monkeywaited for him.

Even if they win, the Demonspoison will eventually kill them.I should mourn them, or praise

their honor, but I cannot.Why?

Perhapsyouve notfound whatyou seek.

Take this, every Seekershould have a good walkingstick. It will help you fnd

your destination.

The Boy put on the Monks takuhatsugasaand took the staff. He now looked and felt likea Monk himself. Standing a little straighter,he walked on.

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The Boy walked and walked. The waterreceded and soon he was sloshing ankledeep in mud. He grew tired and stopped torest against a broken ceiling beam juttingfrom a mound of earth. Fox is wrong,hethought. Nothing will grow here again.

Monkey is wrong too. There will be nonew life. Dragon and the Monks, theirsacrifice is without hope. Everything isgone.

The Boy sat in the mud, held himselftight, and shut his eyes. He waited to begone too.

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The Boy opened his eyes. People

wandered around him, looking forwhat they had lost. In the distance, he sawthe remains of a large building, the sameone he saw swaying in the quake. It was theonly remaining, recognizable, landmark ina sea of mud, but still the Boy knew hewas sitting where his house once stood.Im back where I started, he thought.

In the distance, there was the soft mewof a cat. Then another, stronger cry. The

Boy looked and saw his cat hiding in anold refrigerator with a missing door.

Kibou! Isthat you?

The frightened cat camerunning at the sound

Documents

Fables for Japan Book1