Read Online All the Gates of Hell by Richard Parks - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Richard Parks
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finally crosses the river? Or is that something I should already know?"
"Of course it is but, since you don't... Then the child goes where it's supposed to go, just like anyone else who crossed over. Or rather, the child goes where it needs to go. I can't explain it any better than that. I can, however, show you. We're approaching Mariko's -- "
He didn't even get to finish. The air in front of them shimmered like one of the doors to the hell corridors and everything changed from one step to the next. One moment they walked in a dry, desolate place and in the next they were strolling down a narrow forest path in autumn. To either side of the path were maples in the full russet display marking the end of summer. There was a cool but not unpleasant edge to the breeze that made the pines whisper and the maple leaves rustle. They came to a place where a mossy stone bridge crossed a quiet dark stream, and there they stopped.
Jin knew that the way the place looked was not real, any more than the river keeping the children from crossing into their next destination was real. And yet, like that river, the appearance of the path was important. This seemingly tranquil place looked the way it looked for a reason, and that reason belonged to neither herself nor O-Jizou who, without preamble, had just sat down cross-legged under the larger of the two maples flanking the path about fifty feet from the bridge. He placed his staff across his knees and just sat there, not looking at her. He was looking over the bridge. After a moment Jin did the same and saw the figure approaching from the opposite side.
"Mariko?" Jin asked, and he grunted assent.
She wore a kimono of pure white, and it contrasted with hair blacker even than Jin's, and far longer. It trailed in two long braids down the front of her kimono almost to her waist; the rest spread from her head to fall down around her shoulders and black almost like a cape. Her face was in shadow but, by what Jin could see, it was almost as white as the kimono. She knew that Japanese women at certain times in history had painted their faces white, so thought little of it at first.
If Mariko noticed either of them she didn't show it. She started across the bridge with the tiny, shuffling steps that a formal kimono demanded. Jin had worn one once in a school play and couldn't understand how anybody could walk more than a few steps in the silly things, but Mariko managed just fine. She stopped at the highest point of the wooden bridge and looked down, gazing at the dark water, her long, graceful fingers resting on top of the railing.
Jin had been waiting, in a sense, for the other shoe to drop, but when it did she still felt a little sick. Mariko's fingers on the railing. Fingers too long, too thin. Jin remembered what little she had seen of Mariko's face and finally put it all together.
The skeleton is wearing a kimono . Jin almost giggled, though she didn't really think it was funny. She wasn't frightened -- she had seen far worse in her crash course in being Guan Yin
-- but the sight was at once shocking and pitiful and for several long moments Jin could do nothing at all put stare at the poor girl, who still seemed oblivious to all except the water. When she finally did look up from the stream Jin thought for a moment that she'd finally noticed them, but soon realized that Mariko was looking down the path the way they had come. Jin glanced back that way but she saw nothing and it was clear that Mariko saw the same. The poor creature's shoulders raised briefly and lowered; Jin would have sworn the girl had sighed, even though she had neither lungs nor breath to do so.
O-Jizou made a slight noise, little more than a clearing of his throat, but Jin knew what it really meant -- her cue. Jin headed for the bridge, even though as yet she didn't have the slightest idea what she was going to do, and understanding that it was her nature to sort just such things out didn't make her feel the least bit
"Of course it is but, since you don't... Then the child goes where it's supposed to go, just like anyone else who crossed over. Or rather, the child goes where it needs to go. I can't explain it any better than that. I can, however, show you. We're approaching Mariko's -- "
He didn't even get to finish. The air in front of them shimmered like one of the doors to the hell corridors and everything changed from one step to the next. One moment they walked in a dry, desolate place and in the next they were strolling down a narrow forest path in autumn. To either side of the path were maples in the full russet display marking the end of summer. There was a cool but not unpleasant edge to the breeze that made the pines whisper and the maple leaves rustle. They came to a place where a mossy stone bridge crossed a quiet dark stream, and there they stopped.
Jin knew that the way the place looked was not real, any more than the river keeping the children from crossing into their next destination was real. And yet, like that river, the appearance of the path was important. This seemingly tranquil place looked the way it looked for a reason, and that reason belonged to neither herself nor O-Jizou who, without preamble, had just sat down cross-legged under the larger of the two maples flanking the path about fifty feet from the bridge. He placed his staff across his knees and just sat there, not looking at her. He was looking over the bridge. After a moment Jin did the same and saw the figure approaching from the opposite side.
"Mariko?" Jin asked, and he grunted assent.
She wore a kimono of pure white, and it contrasted with hair blacker even than Jin's, and far longer. It trailed in two long braids down the front of her kimono almost to her waist; the rest spread from her head to fall down around her shoulders and black almost like a cape. Her face was in shadow but, by what Jin could see, it was almost as white as the kimono. She knew that Japanese women at certain times in history had painted their faces white, so thought little of it at first.
If Mariko noticed either of them she didn't show it. She started across the bridge with the tiny, shuffling steps that a formal kimono demanded. Jin had worn one once in a school play and couldn't understand how anybody could walk more than a few steps in the silly things, but Mariko managed just fine. She stopped at the highest point of the wooden bridge and looked down, gazing at the dark water, her long, graceful fingers resting on top of the railing.
Jin had been waiting, in a sense, for the other shoe to drop, but when it did she still felt a little sick. Mariko's fingers on the railing. Fingers too long, too thin. Jin remembered what little she had seen of Mariko's face and finally put it all together.
The skeleton is wearing a kimono . Jin almost giggled, though she didn't really think it was funny. She wasn't frightened -- she had seen far worse in her crash course in being Guan Yin
-- but the sight was at once shocking and pitiful and for several long moments Jin could do nothing at all put stare at the poor girl, who still seemed oblivious to all except the water. When she finally did look up from the stream Jin thought for a moment that she'd finally noticed them, but soon realized that Mariko was looking down the path the way they had come. Jin glanced back that way but she saw nothing and it was clear that Mariko saw the same. The poor creature's shoulders raised briefly and lowered; Jin would have sworn the girl had sighed, even though she had neither lungs nor breath to do so.
O-Jizou made a slight noise, little more than a clearing of his throat, but Jin knew what it really meant -- her cue. Jin headed for the bridge, even though as yet she didn't have the slightest idea what she was going to do, and understanding that it was her nature to sort just such things out didn't make her feel the least bit
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