Kyo
05-04-08, 06:59 PM
(A writing exercise with Saxon)
Parchment crinkled within her hand. Paper bent and barely maintained its form as it was slowly unravelled to reveal the long ago written words that were placed upon its surface. Beautifully scripted calligraphy of blackened ink stood out against the yellowed pieces of bamboo that it was made from, still crisp and clear even after all these years. It was vague and barely descriptive and gave her nothing more an inkling of what was to come. She had read it before too, perhaps this the hundredth time and it could only cement the words into the confines of her mind even further. She saw them when her eyes closed and perceived them even still when they were open.
The thought of what may lay at the other end of these words made a series of goose bumps break out along her skin. They travelled up her arms and then slithered across her spine, covering her back and sending the sweet sensation down her body.
Placing the piece of parchment down upon the table, Kyo allowed it to curl and resume the cylindrical shape she had found it in, with the seal upon its surface long ago broken. It wasn’t surprising really. After all, she had found it buried within the clan’s library, though why it was here intrigued her. The words of a ninja from her clan spoke as if he had once possessed it and only hidden it for reasons not mentioned within. The only thing that was given was a name of a village that she had heard of before but never been to. It was neither a miraculous place, nor a dead place. Just a small farming community about a day’s journey from here. Perhaps they knew more of this item than the parchment was willing to tell?
As she carefully tied the leather string back around the scroll, the ninja stood from the low lying table. She blew out the candles on her way, snuffing the flame and throwing the gentle glow of the room into darkness. But she knew the way. With sure steps, Kyo turned and found the sliding door, parting them and bathing the room in the soft and bright luminescence of a full moon. Then she slipped out as if she had never been, taking the scroll with her.
Two Days Later
Kyo found herself standing at the edge of a small village. Homes of wood and stone and mortar reared before her eyes and rose from the ground as if they were a part of it. Roofs of dry grass shone in the light of the sun and where the golden fields of rice should lie, she found herself staring almost into desolation. Carefully cultivated and dug and prepared areas of desolation with clear paths of dry grass running through them. The land was dry and parched and what rice should have been there—green and fertile—was brittle and dead looking. The ground upon which she walked was nothing more than dust and with every step she took she found it kicking up into the wind and slapping her in the face, as if mocking her.
Few children played in the streets, few people lined the streets and those that should have been tending to the crops appeared to be doing no such thing. Confusion weighed in her mind as she continued to approach the small community. Her rucksack slung upon her shoulders, her weapons in plain view upon her back and her black kimono creating a warm like tingle upon her skin from the high noon sun. Just what was going on in this village?
Parchment crinkled within her hand. Paper bent and barely maintained its form as it was slowly unravelled to reveal the long ago written words that were placed upon its surface. Beautifully scripted calligraphy of blackened ink stood out against the yellowed pieces of bamboo that it was made from, still crisp and clear even after all these years. It was vague and barely descriptive and gave her nothing more an inkling of what was to come. She had read it before too, perhaps this the hundredth time and it could only cement the words into the confines of her mind even further. She saw them when her eyes closed and perceived them even still when they were open.
The thought of what may lay at the other end of these words made a series of goose bumps break out along her skin. They travelled up her arms and then slithered across her spine, covering her back and sending the sweet sensation down her body.
Placing the piece of parchment down upon the table, Kyo allowed it to curl and resume the cylindrical shape she had found it in, with the seal upon its surface long ago broken. It wasn’t surprising really. After all, she had found it buried within the clan’s library, though why it was here intrigued her. The words of a ninja from her clan spoke as if he had once possessed it and only hidden it for reasons not mentioned within. The only thing that was given was a name of a village that she had heard of before but never been to. It was neither a miraculous place, nor a dead place. Just a small farming community about a day’s journey from here. Perhaps they knew more of this item than the parchment was willing to tell?
As she carefully tied the leather string back around the scroll, the ninja stood from the low lying table. She blew out the candles on her way, snuffing the flame and throwing the gentle glow of the room into darkness. But she knew the way. With sure steps, Kyo turned and found the sliding door, parting them and bathing the room in the soft and bright luminescence of a full moon. Then she slipped out as if she had never been, taking the scroll with her.
Two Days Later
Kyo found herself standing at the edge of a small village. Homes of wood and stone and mortar reared before her eyes and rose from the ground as if they were a part of it. Roofs of dry grass shone in the light of the sun and where the golden fields of rice should lie, she found herself staring almost into desolation. Carefully cultivated and dug and prepared areas of desolation with clear paths of dry grass running through them. The land was dry and parched and what rice should have been there—green and fertile—was brittle and dead looking. The ground upon which she walked was nothing more than dust and with every step she took she found it kicking up into the wind and slapping her in the face, as if mocking her.
Few children played in the streets, few people lined the streets and those that should have been tending to the crops appeared to be doing no such thing. Confusion weighed in her mind as she continued to approach the small community. Her rucksack slung upon her shoulders, her weapons in plain view upon her back and her black kimono creating a warm like tingle upon her skin from the high noon sun. Just what was going on in this village?