Read Online All the Gates of Hell by Richard Parks - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Richard Parks
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more confident.
The understanding that Mariko was little more than a skeleton in a white kimono bothered Jin just a little, and not for the obvious reason. If all hells were personal -- and Jin knew that to be true -- then the particular torment, experience, and appearance of the punished one were all personal as well. Yet here was little more than an assemblage of bones and scraps of cloth pretending to be, as Jin perceived her, a young girl of about seventeen. Why? Jin could understand if Mariko was at a place where she would be subjected to horror and revulsion at her appearance; that was a torment that made sense, and Jin could look for understanding there. Yet Mariko was alone. Here there was no one to see her bones, her sorry pretense at being a living girl, so what was the point of it? It's not as if the girl carried a mirror to look at herself; so far as Jin could see she only carried a fan tucked into her sash, and considering the height of the bridge it was unlikely the water below could cast a reflection plain enough for Mariko to see.
Perhaps she merely wants it to be clear that she has died...but clear to whom ?
Jin approached the bridge and Mariko didn't react. It was only when she stepped onto the wooden walkway that Mariko turned to look at her.
"Saburo -- " Mariko stopped. She sounded confused. "You're not Saburo-sama," she said, staring at her with the black holes where her eyes should be.
Jin took another step. "No. My name is Jin."
Mariko took a step back. "What are you doing here? Did Saburo-sama send you?"
"You're waiting on Saburo, aren't you?" Jin asked, dodging the question like a hurled stone. She took another step. So did Mariko, in the opposite direction.
"Stay back!"
Jin paused, her hand still on the railing. "I'm not going to hurt you."
Mariko shook her head slowly. "I know who you are. I won't go."
"Go where?"
The question seemed to confuse Mariko. "Where Saburo-sama isn't," she said finally.
"It would seem to me," Jin said dryly, "that this is a place where Saburo-sama isn't. How long have you been waiting?"
Silence, then Jin saw tears forming at the corners of Mariko's fleshless eyes. The idea that this was an impossible thing to happen came and was dismissed in a moment; it happened, so obviously it was not impossible. Not at that place, at least.
For a moment Mariko's fear and suspicion deserted her. "I'm so tired," she said. Tears glistened on the bones of her face. "Please go away."
"Who do you think I am, Mariko san?"
"You are Blessed Kannon. You do not look as I expected, but it is you, I am certain."
Jin nodded. "You're an interesting girl, Mariko-san. I don't think you're confused at all about where you are and who you are. Yet you tarry here wearing a face like death itself waiting for someone who is never going to come. What was this 'Saburo-sama' to you?"
"Everything," Mariko said. "And he will come. We could not marry, but he said we would be re-united and we will. When that happens, he will see that I kept faith with him!"
Jin had a pretty good idea of what Mariko meant by that, but this was not the time for guesswork. She had to be sure. "Mariko, take my hand."
The ghost-girl took another step back. "I won't!"
"I'm trying to help you, Mariko, but I can't unless you help me, too. I promise I will not drag you away from here if you really don't want to go."
Expression was hard to read on the face of a skull, but Jin was sure Mariko was doubtful. "Well..."
"Kannon does not lie," Jin said.
Reluctantly, Mariko extended her bony hand and Jin grasped it gently. She felt none of the revulsion she had half-way expected to feel.
She saw what Mariko saw, felt what Mariko felt. In that instant she was Mariko as she had been a thousand years before. She stood on a small bridge in the garden of her father's house. Her father emerged from a small tea hut father down the path, and he had a guest. Jin felt her heart beating faster at the sight of the handsome young man
The understanding that Mariko was little more than a skeleton in a white kimono bothered Jin just a little, and not for the obvious reason. If all hells were personal -- and Jin knew that to be true -- then the particular torment, experience, and appearance of the punished one were all personal as well. Yet here was little more than an assemblage of bones and scraps of cloth pretending to be, as Jin perceived her, a young girl of about seventeen. Why? Jin could understand if Mariko was at a place where she would be subjected to horror and revulsion at her appearance; that was a torment that made sense, and Jin could look for understanding there. Yet Mariko was alone. Here there was no one to see her bones, her sorry pretense at being a living girl, so what was the point of it? It's not as if the girl carried a mirror to look at herself; so far as Jin could see she only carried a fan tucked into her sash, and considering the height of the bridge it was unlikely the water below could cast a reflection plain enough for Mariko to see.
Perhaps she merely wants it to be clear that she has died...but clear to whom ?
Jin approached the bridge and Mariko didn't react. It was only when she stepped onto the wooden walkway that Mariko turned to look at her.
"Saburo -- " Mariko stopped. She sounded confused. "You're not Saburo-sama," she said, staring at her with the black holes where her eyes should be.
Jin took another step. "No. My name is Jin."
Mariko took a step back. "What are you doing here? Did Saburo-sama send you?"
"You're waiting on Saburo, aren't you?" Jin asked, dodging the question like a hurled stone. She took another step. So did Mariko, in the opposite direction.
"Stay back!"
Jin paused, her hand still on the railing. "I'm not going to hurt you."
Mariko shook her head slowly. "I know who you are. I won't go."
"Go where?"
The question seemed to confuse Mariko. "Where Saburo-sama isn't," she said finally.
"It would seem to me," Jin said dryly, "that this is a place where Saburo-sama isn't. How long have you been waiting?"
Silence, then Jin saw tears forming at the corners of Mariko's fleshless eyes. The idea that this was an impossible thing to happen came and was dismissed in a moment; it happened, so obviously it was not impossible. Not at that place, at least.
For a moment Mariko's fear and suspicion deserted her. "I'm so tired," she said. Tears glistened on the bones of her face. "Please go away."
"Who do you think I am, Mariko san?"
"You are Blessed Kannon. You do not look as I expected, but it is you, I am certain."
Jin nodded. "You're an interesting girl, Mariko-san. I don't think you're confused at all about where you are and who you are. Yet you tarry here wearing a face like death itself waiting for someone who is never going to come. What was this 'Saburo-sama' to you?"
"Everything," Mariko said. "And he will come. We could not marry, but he said we would be re-united and we will. When that happens, he will see that I kept faith with him!"
Jin had a pretty good idea of what Mariko meant by that, but this was not the time for guesswork. She had to be sure. "Mariko, take my hand."
The ghost-girl took another step back. "I won't!"
"I'm trying to help you, Mariko, but I can't unless you help me, too. I promise I will not drag you away from here if you really don't want to go."
Expression was hard to read on the face of a skull, but Jin was sure Mariko was doubtful. "Well..."
"Kannon does not lie," Jin said.
Reluctantly, Mariko extended her bony hand and Jin grasped it gently. She felt none of the revulsion she had half-way expected to feel.
She saw what Mariko saw, felt what Mariko felt. In that instant she was Mariko as she had been a thousand years before. She stood on a small bridge in the garden of her father's house. Her father emerged from a small tea hut father down the path, and he had a guest. Jin felt her heart beating faster at the sight of the handsome young man
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