And I had this Dream

And I was falling.

Falling.

       Falling.

                 Falling.

Through blackness. Through Night. Through Emptiness.

Through Infinity.

And then, through the darkness. I began to detect the walls of a tunnel. Oh so far away.

And the tunnel was lined with cilia of immense size. There was a peristaltic wave in the cilia that tracked me as I fell. Driving me down the tunnel. Down the throat of hell.

After a while I drifted closer to one wall. I began to make out features on the cilia.

They were people.

Millions and millions of people.

And they were all pointing their hands at me as I fell. Making this giant wave. And as they pointed, they screamed. And now I could hear the screaming.

In terrible doppler I fell .

On and on.

Then below me. of a sudden. Came the ground.

And I HIT.

And all was silent.

And I sat up and looked around. I was in a towering heap of the dead, grotesque, bodies. Of various states of decomposition. Stacked to a height of 100 or more feet.

Nothing moved. All was dead. 

Then, at the bottom of the hill, I saw movement.

I was drawn toward it. I stumbled my way off the macabre mound.

At the bottom were demons. Little red horrendous imps that were picking up the dead bodies and carting them away.

They neither looked at me nor paid me any attention, but still I was drawn to follow them.

They carried their horrors further down in to the shadows until finally they can to a system of moving conveyor belts. On these belts they placed their loads to be carried into the dark.

One of the demons suddenly caught my eye. He was carrying a relatively well preserved nude body of a young woman. He winked at me, licked his lips, and dumped the girl onto the moving belts.

wondering at her ultimate fate, i followed.

The belt wound down for several hundred yards, the girl's body bumping up and down over the uneven assembly of the machinery. Finally it came to a collection of vats. At each vat was another demon. Each demon would grasp a body as it came by their vat, dunk it into the fetid liquid within and then put the body back onto the belt.

As I came to the first vat, the young woman's body was grasped and dunked and then put back onto the belt. To my astonishment, her body now looked less decayed. It looked fresher. Perhaps Freshly dead. 

At the second vat the process was repeated. Now she looked as if just resting.

On emerging from the third vat she opened her eyes and looked at me. Fear was writ large on her face, but here body was young and alive and comely.

Just as she was about to say something to me, the demon of the fourth vat grabbed her and dunked her through. She came out with red, perfect skin, small horns on her head, and a look of absolute ecstasy that started in her eyes and quickly traversed her entire body.

She stroked he legs. She convulsed in pleasure. She looked me in the eye and beckoned me to her.

Quickly I approached. But I was stopped by the bulk of the demon of the fifth vat. He gave no notice to our collision, but quickly performed his office and dunked my new red love into the vat. In and out.

She came out looking somewhat dazed. Confused as if drunk. And...... slightly reptilian. Strange.

Things started happening more quickly now.

The Sixth vat and her arms and legs were becoming fins. Her hair and skin scales.

The seventh vat and her body shape changed. She became shorter, flatter.

The eighth vat and she was a large flat fish.

Sudden the belts ended in a circular rotating table.

At 4 stations on the table were ever larger and more impressive Demons.

The first quickly cut off her head

The second took off the fins and slit the creature up the gut.

The 3rd took two quick slices removing the skin.

And the fourth. This gave me pause.

The fourth I realized, was Satan himself.

He made the final two cuts and held up the still living, still quivering piece of flesh to admire.

Suddenly he noticed me. He turned. He looked at me, raised one eyebrow and held up his handy work.

"Fillet of Soul?" he inquired.

Manga

Manga

It was easy to follow them through the Kyoto metro. The Father was especially nervous and over concerned about his directions and the safety of his Son. Clearly this American had very little experience traveling in Nippon. And he had no understanding of the true writing. He was continually scanning the area, but he was only focusing on the station signs and the arrival board. He was not seeing. The Son was mainly just following and trusting the Father. Though there was something about him. I would have to be careful of that one. He may have unsuspected depth. A Ninja is aware of these things, of course. Even unto death.

They left the Metro at the Eighth stop, Kawaramachi-Oike. I glided along a few groups behind them. My instructions were to kill them when they were alone. To leave the bodies in as bloody a mess as I could. For the enlightenment of the others.

Suddenly the Father stopped. He turned and looked around. His look was one of confusion. I had to keep walking, just another japanese to this Gaijin. But he looked right at me. He caught my eye. The Son also looked up and engaged. Both of them smiled slightly and bowed. We were surrounded by many people. This was not the place. Their behavior was just random. Their good manners surprising, perhaps also random. I returned their bow, with less respect, a little perturbed that they would not understand the slight, and walked on past them.

At the top of the stairs, I entered the sunlight and immediately began “the walking change”. If someone had been closely observing me over the next 5 minutes, they would have seen what I was doing, but to any casual by-passer, I was just a man that was: putting on his hat, taking off his glasses, removing his dark jacket, folding his jacket, unfolding his light jacket, putting on his jacket, many random small changes. But by the time I picked up the father and son again, 100 meters down the road, I was unrecognizable to either of the simpletons.

A block past the station they turned into the “Kyoto International Manga Museum”. How very interesting. It must be the Son that is the student of the one true art. Yes, I see it on his face. The Father is slightly bored and skeptical of the entire venture, but the Son is having difficulty containing his enthusiasm. Excellent. Their guards will be down. The Manga Museum is notorious for its crowds of true students. But they are always heavily engaged in a study of an important Manga Tome. It will be easy to make my kill and leave the bodies gushing blood onto the very floor of righteousness. What Irony! What bitter glory!

There is a special exhibit going on today. They pay the extra price (tourists) and proceed immediately to the 3^rd floor. I follow them in. This special exhibit does not have the crowd of readers perched on every available sitting space. This is where I will make it happen. I will create a glorious exhibit of my own.

I notice a few of the color prints on the wall. This exhibit is one of the more pure forms of Manga art. It shows young girls, just at the age of flowering, their expectations high and their intentions pure. Together with their Kantana, the Samurai killing sword, or bow or other weapon of death. Their true purity and deadly ability blend to create the art.

The Father has suddenly become much more animated. He is starting to enjoy the true artwork. How very interesting. He and the Son stand before one particular painting. They are obviously discussing the merits of the piece. I move closer to listen to their final words.”

“Sakura means 'Cherry Blossom', Dad.” Says the Son. “She is sitting on a bench observing the cherry blossoms. That is meaning of the title 'Observing the Cherry Blossoms'”.

“Yes,” says the Father. “But don't you see, she is looking back at us, the viewers. She is smiling in welcome to us. She is both the viewer of the cherry blossoms and the Cherry Blossom being viewed. It is a double entendre.” The Father reaches into his pocket and pulls out a notebook. He starts to make some markings.

This Father is a wise one. He understands the True Art well. Too bad he must die. Now.

“Oh,” Says the Son, “And by the way, Dad, That Ninja is still following us”.

“Yes,” says the Father, turning to look at me, “This seems like a good spot.”

Nani ?? This can not be. I reach for my short sword, but the father swings the notebook, it is on some string. It wraps around my arm? Silk Cord? Ah, it bites in. it is a blade disguised as a book. I leap to kick the Father in the throat, but the Son has moved. He grabs my right arm in a classic Ninja-go-dori and throws me off balance.

“Do you like the art exhibit?” asks the Son, his face only inches from mine. I shake my head to activate the poison spine on my temple, I will kill this one first, but before I can strike the Father has spun his silk thread around my neck. I cannot move. I cannot breath. The Son has drawn my short sword from its hidden scabbard. “You are number 3, by the way,” He says. Darkness comes.

The Father and Son exit the Manga Exhibit, but I see no sign of elder brother. Strange, I could have sworn he would make his kill when there were inside the Museum. And now he does not follow them. Perhaps he got too close and decided that they had recognized him. The two of them are laughing and swinging a newly bought package, with no cares in the world. Well, no matter. If elder brother has disengaged, then he means for me to take up the task. I will take care of these two insects and be back at the Dojo for dinner. The Son suddenly stops and looks in my direction. Almost as if he had noticed me. What an amusing thought.