The Last Way-Singer

[Webmonkey]

(Trying my hand at a spot of writing. Constructive critiques encouraged. And only got partway into this one, so be patient,.. the rest is coming.)

There once was a Japanese Samurai, who, for reasons unknown, set aside his

sword and decided to leave the island of Japan. He traveled the mainland of

China for many years, and eventually wound up at a monastery. Here, he learned

many things from the monks, and as the time passed, he slowly transitioned from

the ways of Bushido, to the ways of Buddha.

He was happy with the peaceful life that the monastery offered, until one day,

as he walked through the fields, he chanced upon a girl from a nearby village.

She was picking the white orchids that grew tall among the grass. He was

smitten with her instantly. He wanted to go and say something, but his feet

were frozen hard to the very ground he stood upon. He could only watch quietly

as she went about her business. Eventually, she had made her way towards where

he stood, and seeing him in his monk's robe, she offered him a warm smile, and

bowed politely to him. But still,... he said nothing.

After she had gone, the monk returned to his room at the monastery. His sleep

that night was restless. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't get the

vision of her out of his head. The next morning, he rose with the sun, and

returned to the field where he had seen her. He hoped to see her there again.

The hours passed, and slowly, he began to despair. He stayed until late in the

afternoon, and finally, just as he was turning to head back to the monastery,

he heard the soft singing of a woman floating lightly through the air.

He turned sharply and headed for the voice. And as the woman came into range,

he was delighted to see it was the same girl from the day before. He quickly

grabbed up a handful of the white orchids that were growing nearby and headed

for her. She was startled a little as the monk approached, but seeing that it

was the same monk from the day before, she just smiled at him again and went

back to her singing. The monk held out the flowers to her and she just smiled a

little and kept singing as she took them with a slight bow of her head and

added them to the others.

The two of them spent the next few hours like that,... just picking flowers and

adding them to her basket. All the while, she sang softly to him, and he smiled

at her. Except for the singing, neither of them said a word to the other, and

when finally her basket was full, she bowed politely once more to the monk, and

headed off away from the field, back to her village. The next day went much the

same, and the next day after that, and the next day after that. Eventually they

spoke to each other, and slowly, they fell in love.

The monks from the monastery eventually grew suspicious. They wondered where it

was that he would disappear to, day after day, instead of studying the ways of

Buddha at the temple like he was supposed to be doing. So one day, a couple of

the younger monks decided to follow him. They watched from the treeline as the

monk and the girl from the village met in the field. The monk and the girl,

having been meeting every day for a good long while at this point, finally

kissed. This kiss aroused the passion in them both, and before long, they were

lying down with one another amidst the flowers.

The monks at the treeline returned to the monastery, speaking to each other of

what they had seen in great detail. A merchant, who was trading with the monk

overheard the conversation and repeated it when he went down into the village

to trade there. A few days later, the story had spread across the whole

village. The girls father had kicked her out of the house for the embarrassment

and shame she brought upon the family.

The story even made its way back into the temple. And for his transgressions,

the monk was kicked out. It was considered "unclean" for a monk to take a

woman, or for a woman to "seduce" a holy man. The love they shared, of course,

was in no way an unclean thing,.. nor did she seduce him. But that mattered

little to the monks or the villagers, both of whom where only concerned with

what their neighbors may think. As such, both the monk and the girl turned away

from their homes.

Having no other place to go, both naturally made their way to the field where

they had always met. After much discussion about what they were going to do

now, the monk consoled the girl and took her hand, and they began walking. Many

days passed and still they walked, unsure of where it was that they were going.

Until, one day, after they had walked so far that their feet were sore, they

came over the top of a hill and chanced upon, (what for them at least), was a

perfect place.

The hill rolled gently down to a large, flat valley, with a small stream

running through it, and white orchids growing up out of the grass,.. as far as

the eye could see.

(to be continued)

Edited July 19, 2013 by Webmonkey

[edonil]

I like it a lot! I see what you mean about writing without dialogue, but I don't think that's a concern at all. It has this great oral-tradition legend feel to it, which is quite different but you're pulling it off nicely so far. Your grammar and spelling is quite good, you've got a few mistakes (monastery is spelled wrong in a couple places, and despair was off), but for the most part you nailed those. There's a couple spots where I think you overused some words, but the way that you've got it laid out I'm not sure it's a problem...repetition and patterns are great pieces of the genre.

The story itself I don't have enough of to really comment on beyond the fact that I like what you've got down so far. Your pacing is good, there weren't any points where my attention drifted or I thought it slowed down. I've got a couple recommendations on some bits of it to help it flow better.

The two of them spent the next few hours like that... just picking flowers and

adding them to her basket.

Here, you don't need the comma with ellipse, one or the other will do just fine.

The monk and the girl, having been meeting every day for a good long while at this point, finally kissed.

This sentence just seems a bit awkward. Maybe try: The monk and the girl, after weeks of meeting with another, finally kissed.

The girls father had kicked her out of the house for the embarrassment and shame she brought upon the family

You're missing an apostrophe with girl. The other thing with this sentence is that I'd drop the word 'had' after father, it interrupts the flow of an otherwise fine sentence.

But that mattered little to the monks or the villagers, both of whom where only concerned with what their neighbors may think

You've got where instead of were in this sentence. And I think all would work better than both in this case, considering the number of people involved.

The hill rolled gently down to a large, flat valley, with a small stream running through it, and white orchids growing up out of the grass,.. as far as the eye could see.

I like the imagery of this one, but I think it could be rewritten a little smoother. Try something like this: The hill rolled gently down to a large, flat valley, a small stream running through it. And as far as the eye could see, white orchids blossomed against the green grass.

Technically you shouldn't begin a sentence with 'and'...but that's a rule that's pretty easily set aside, especially with the style you're showing. I think something like the above could work well for you.

Very excited to see what happens next, excellent start!

[Webmonkey]

Well,... at least that part came through correctly. I was going for a "telling a story around a campfire" type feel.

[Webmonkey]

(ok,.. not too much written today. This is just what I could manage after work and before bed. But here it is for what it's worth. Hope you enjoy.)

The two of them made their way down into the valley and settled in a spot not too far from the stream. Here, they made a home. It was a small but quaint little house. It wasn't much, but it suited their purposes and they lived there happily for several years.

The seasons came, and the seasons went, and everyday the girl would sing. The monk never thought much about what she was singing or why. He simply liked the sound of her voice and was more then happy to spend his days just listening to the melody.

One day, while gathering water at the stream, the monk's gaze was caught by a tiny bit of movement among the flowers and grass. He moved forward to investigate and found a young boy walking through the field. The boy's skin has a paleish yellow hue and clamy sweat clung to his skin. The monk watched for a moment as the boy's face showed an expressionless, dreamlike state that belied the heavy and labored steps that the boy was forcing himself to take.

Unable to help himself, he scooped the boy up and ran back to the house. The boy's body went limp as soon as his feet left the ground. The next couple of days the monk spent tending the boy and trying to break the fever. But the boy never regained conciousness and soon died. The girl simply watched with sad eyes and sang softly the whole time. Afterwards, she helped the monk bury the boy under a tree at the far edge of the field and she continued singing even as they piled the last few handfuls of dirt onto the grave.

After they were finally finished, she turned and asked which direction the boy had come from. The monk led her to where he found the boy and from there she began walking back the way from which the boy had come.

A few hours later, they came upon a small village nestled deep in the woods. They both looked upon the village with sad eyes and heavy hearts. A plauge had come to the village and everyone who had lived there had succumbed to it. Sickly-dead bodies haphazardly littered the streets and buildings, and as the two of them walked the length of the village, they found only more and more death.

The girl walked back to the middle of the village and raised her face to the sky. She began to sing as loud as she could, and as she did the faint outline of the spirits of the dead could begin to be seen in the streets. Faint at first, like trying to gaze through a fog, but then the images became clearer and the details more focused. And off in the distance, a brilliant light began to shine through the trees. The spirits of the dead turned and headed for the light as if called by some mysterious force. The monk could only watch in silence, bewildered as he was by what he was seeing.

When the last of the spirits had disappeared into the light of the trees, the girl finally stopped singing and the light faded away. She turned to the monk, half expecting a look of fear from him. But the look in his eyes was not one of fear, but rather one of questioning and confusion.

She offered him a soft, loving smile and said,.. "I'll explain when we get home,.." and then she took his hand and they started to slowly walk the journey back to their house.

(to be continued)

Edited July 18, 2013 by Webmonkey

[Webmonkey]

(Here's another small snipet,.. enjoy)

After the long walk back to the house, the monk sat down at the small table in the middle of the room and waited patiently while the girl began making some tea. After the pot was on the fire and starting to heat, she began to speak.

"The afterlife is not what you think." She said. "One does not simply reincarnate, nor does one automatically go to heaven. There is a place between this life and the next. A,.. "purgatory",.. if you will. It is a labyrinth, full of it's own twists and turns. It is easy to get lost there. And then there's the Demons. They spend their time offering distractions, or blocking the way. They will do whatever it takes to obscure the portal to the next life from the eyes of those that seek to find the way out.

My voice, as you saw, illuminates the way for the dead. That is why we are called "Way-Singers". When we sing, our voices peel away the walls and illusions made by the Demons, and shows the souls the doorway to the next world.

That is why I sing everyday," she continued, "So that any wandering souls that should happen to be nearby, might hear my voice, and be able to follow it to the portal of light. Usually, only I can see it. I think it's because it's only a soul or two at a time. I think you could see it only because there were so many souls there. The light from the portal must have had to burn brighter to accomodate them all" Then she stopped to fetch the tea from the fire, and poured the monk a drink.

The monk took a sip of his tea as he listened. Then after a long pause, he only asked, "You said ~we~ are called Way-Singers. How many of you are there.?"

At this, the girls eyes became sad as they drifted to the floor. "I am the last." She said softly. "I inherited this ability from my mother when she died. Father never knew about mother's ability, nor did he know that she had passed the power on to me.

It's funny,.. I can barely remember her face. But the one thing I do remember, is the sound of her voice echoing through the house. She sang everyday, you know, no matter what was going on in our house, or in the village."

The monk could see that the memory was bothering her. So he simply finished his tea, got up for the table, kissed her lightly on the forehead, and went outside to allow her some space. That night he came back in and went to bed without a word.

The next morning, the girl got up and went about her morning chores as usual, and started singing softly to herself again. When the monk came in the room, she paused in her singing as she studdied his face for signs of disapproval. But he said nothing. Nor did he say anything the next day, or the day after that.

(to be continued)

Edited July 18, 2013 by Webmonkey

[ThePandaDirector]

Ok, so I'm just covering the first post for now. I've read the rest, just don't have time to comment right now. I try to be honest, and I provide a lot of alternatives which you're more than welcome to ignore.

Part one

Paragraph One

• Don't think you need to point out that he is Japanese; being a samurai implies it strongly enough.
  
• For some reason "island of Japan" doesn't sit right with me.; perhaps replace with a reference to "homeland" (not the TV show).
  
• "mainland of China is similar to the above. Think it could more evocative, like "the heartland of China" or something.
  
• "the ways of Bushido, to the ways of Buddha" is fine, though it does seem the place to put a metaphor if you were inclined to do so; since it represents a notable transition. Works as is though.
  

Paragraph Two

• "He was happy" perhaps a little basic, perhaps "His heavy conscience was comforted by the peaceful life the monastery offered, until one day ". "heavy conscience" could replaced with all kinds - "weary heart", "wounded spirit", etc.
  

Paragraph Three

• Never heard of a "monstery", is that were the monstrous minions of Buddha are trained by his militarised monks? =P
  
• "returned to his room" reminds me too much of a teenager going to his room and hugging his pillow (not that I have ever done that). Perhaps replace with "returned to the monastery so that he might busy himself with his duties." Poorly worded, but you get the jist.
  
• "couldn't get the vision of her out of his head" doesn't really sit right. "no matter how hard he tried, her pure visage haunted his conflicted mind." I suppose you don't want to highlight the whole "horny monk" aspect since we are talking true love in this story. That said, I think that the contrast (I forget the technical term) of "pure" and "haunted" is a good way of reflecting how he feels (plus "haunted" has connotations of the afterlife which is rather ironic). Also "conflicted mind" is a rather obvious way to try and take into account his past a warrior and how a past that revolved around conflict now itself conflicts with his new status; his love resurfaces this mental and spiritual conflict within him. Not saying this is what you should put, just that it helps if every now and then you have a sentence or phrase that reflects or relates to a key aspect of the character, theme or story.
  
• Maybe put "where he had seen her first." "where he had first seen her" works too, but I kinda feel the former fits with narrative style you are going for. Up to you though.
  
• "The hours past and, slowly, he began to despair." is probably what you meant. Could also do "The hours past, slowly... He began to despair."
  

Paragraph Four

• Maybe go with "view" instead of "range". He's not shooting her after all =]
  
• Maybe "hastily" instead of "quickly" Just sounds better to me.
  
• You could replace the first or second "monk" with "man" or "stranger" and it might work better (might).
  
• "Eventually they broke their silence and, slowly, they fell in love." I think "broke" just links to the fact that he is breaking his oath by falling in love, and that, in a way, it is sealed when they talk to each other.
  

Paragraph Five

• "instead of studying the ways of Buddha at the temple like he was supposed to be doing" the latter section doesn't sound right, too long for what it is. "instead of performing his duties for the temple, and Buddha." is one option, if you want to perhaps offer a slight sense of oppression and selfishness (temple comes before Buddha implying its material superiority to the teachings of Buddha), while also reminding us of the Monk's obligation to the monastery and to his religion. There are other options too, or just cut the last bit.
  
• You can take out the comma in "before long, they were lying"
  

Paragraph Six

• "at the treeline" is an odd way to distinguish them imo. The slight repetition of using "young monks" again would work well I think.
  
• "A merchant, who was trading with the monks, overheard the conversation" - you missed the second comma.
  
• "to trade there" can be cut.
  

Paragraph Seven

• "cast out" instead of "kicked out".
  
• "was in no way an unclean thing, nor did she seduce him"
  
• I like the "both" in "both of whom where only concerned" It represents the monks and villagers as two entities, emphasising their class/role and how personal their judgement feels to the monk and the girl (like two friends or two parents judging you).
  
• "were only concerned with their own reputation and "honour". Maybe cut the second bit, but I think "what the neighbour thinks" is a bit of a modern idea that doesn't feel right here.
  
• "both the monk and the girl were turned away" you missed "were".
  

Paragraph Eight and Nine

• "were drawn back to" instead of "naturally made their way to" as it would give the location a higher, almost divine, significance.
  
• "they spent some time questioning what was to become of them. The monk consoled the girl, took her hand and, with no plan, they simply began to walk." Or something like that. Mostly I just don't like "discussion".
  
• "where their current path would lead" instead of "where it was that they were going".
  
• "and chanced upon what they considered to be a perfect place."
  

Conclusion

It might be hard to believe considering the wall'o'text above, but I really liked this. It doesn't sound anything like a campfire story though. What it does sound like is a parable, perhaps one told in a remote and tranquil monastery. If you've ever seen A Bittersweet Life then you'll know what I mean. It's a style I happen to really like, though it's odd to see it implemented in such a long story. I could visualise everything very well, and it has a nice pace. I groaned the moment you introduced the girl, as that initially felt a little "here we go again", but she comes off really well in the first instalment, while also being a credible portrayal of a feudal Chinese woman. As edonil mentioned there are some spelling mistakes and use ",..." Also, because I got the sense of this being a parable, a parable generally has a message. I'd personally enjoy it more if there were a few well chosen words or metaphors used to reflect the higher meaning of something (e.g. them walking holding hands is more than just them walking together, it's them embracing the unknown destination of the path, i.e. choice, that they have taken). I'm a bit of a whore for this kind of depth (hey, I like it deep =P), which really isn't required to tell a good story (which you are), it would just enhance the parable vibe I got from this.

Thansk for sharing, I'll be sure to post my thoughts on the other segments, unless you find this one so insulting that I am banned from ever posting in the same thread as you, which is cool too. Tis ALL good maan =]

[Webmonkey]

Never,.. I'm always happy to get constructive critisims. And given both yours and edonil's critiques, it seems that the majority of my errors fall in the spelling and grammar catagories. Which I can forgive, since I don't bother with spell-check or other such programs as I find that they are wrong more often then right.

But thanks for the kind words. I'm glad at least that it hasn't seemed to make anyone fall asleep or vomit yet *grin*

[Webmonkey]

(here's the next part of my story. hopefully it doesn't make your eyes bleed or your brain explode *grin*)

The monk never approached the subject with her again. He was satisfied enough with her answer and decided to let it be. Especially since he knew, despite being a monk, that the behavior of other-worldly beings was beyond his scope of ever truely understanding. Each day she would sing softly wherever she went, and he would just smile at her and listen. He now knew why she sang, and he was happy that she was helping others to complete the cycle of life.

And so it was, that the days passed into weeks, and the weeks passed into months, and the months passed into years. Until one day, during their afternoon meal, the very ground itself began to rumble, and the shouts and cries of angry voices could be heard, carried upon the wind. The monk ran outside to see what the commotion was about, and the girl followed close behind.

Once outside, they could both see the shape of two armies. One stood at either end of of the field. Having once been a Samurai, the monk knew all too well of the kind of carnage that was about to happen here. He told the girl that it was time for them to go. But the girl refused, saying that she could not go because when all of this was done, there would be many who would need her services. The monk pleaded with her, but she would not be moved.

Suddenly, the armies advanced on one another, clashing in the middle of the field. Swords clanked against one another, and arrows were loosed into the air. The monk tried to get the girl back inside but the tide of war smashed into them and they were carried away from one another in the frenzy of people. The monk, screaming for her, was struck on the head by something, then everything went black.

The monk awoke to find the remnants and vestages of the battle strewn across the field. Everywhere were dead and dying. The once beautiful field of white orchids had been trampled under hoof and foot. The ground itself was sticky-red with blood. And the banners of the armies, the Golden Dragon emblazoned upon red cloth, and the White Tiger upon blue silk, lay everywhere upon the ground, or flew in tattered pieces from broken poles on broken men.

And the house,.. the house was all ablaze.

Suddenly he remembered her. Where was she? What had happened to her? He raced into the house, oblivious to the surrounding flames. And there he found her, lying on the floor, half proped up against the wall. She had taken a barrage of several arrows and was feebly trying to stand back up using the wall as support. The monk rushed to her with tears in his eyes, trying to figure out what to do first.

When she saw him, she relaxed and slid back down the wall. The monk watched in horror as he knew there was nothing he could do. She reached up and caressed his face. He could barely see her. The tears kept getting in the way. She pulled him forward just that little bit and kissed him softly. When it was over, and he pulled away to see her face again, she simply smiled that soft little smile of hers. And then he watched, as the light faded from her eyes,

and then, she moved no more.

In his moment of grief he cried out as loud as he could, and was startled to find that as he did, the world around him was peeled back, and he could see the labyrinth of purgatory and the wandering spirits of the fallen of the battlefield as they began transitioning to the other side.

(to be continued)

[Webmonkey]

*bump*

[bowchikawowers]

I'm really enjoying this story Web! Normally I object to any story that tells instead of showing (part of being a visual thinker, I *NEED* those images) But even without actively showing you've got some beautiful imagery in there. The description of the valley post battle was pretty vivid and nicely done.

I especially (this is going to sound morbid >.<) like her death scene. It feels heavy and dramatic and peaceful all at the same time.

His being a way-singer is a pleasant surprise as well! Turns out sh wasn't the last after all.

I disagree with Panda in that I don't get a parable feel to it, I definitely get the fireside story feel. Overall, very good. When do we get to read more?

[Webmonkey]

(It's been a long while since I've written anything on this story. So this is small snippet of the next bit. I'm trying to start out slow to get a rhythm going again. Hopefully I can keep the feel after so long and not ruin it for you guys. But since you asked for it,.. here it is,..)

The world of purgatory stretched out before him. He could see the outlines and shapes of all the spirits and objects that inhabited this place. But somehow they seemed thin, and stretched, like half looking through an evening mist. And then he saw her, standing there, as though nothing had happened. She smiled softly and knelt down before him.

"I'm sorry", she said with a bit sadness in her voice, "but there wasn't any time. I couldn't let it die with me,.. I had to breath it into you. It is the only gift I had to give."

"It's ok", replied the monk. "You may have died, but this way, I can still see you whenever I want"

"No", she said, "I cannot stay here. Sing for me,..."

The monk sat there stunned and then slowly shook his head. "I can't lose you again. Don't ask me to do this." And the tears began to fall once more because he knew he was losing her for a second time,.. and again, so soon.

"Please!!" she begged, "We don't have much time!! Please sing for me,.. don't trap me here forever,..."

The monk, despite the way his heart was shattering, began to sing. Though the lump in his throat made it hard at first. He tried to concentrate on the words. Maybe it was because the gift had been passed on to him, or maybe it was because he had heard her sing it so many times, but the words came naturally. As he sang, sad as it soft as it was, the labyrinth of purgatory melted away like a fog that has been touched by the sun. Behind where she stood, the light began to glow until it enveloped her. And she faded away into the light, leaving only the words "I love you,.. and I'm sorry,.." ringing in his ears.

Somehow he knew that she was gone now. So he stopped singing, and the world beyond the veil faded all away until nothing remained of it and he was left kneeling on the floor, holding the lifeless body of his lover, and choking a bit on the smoke of the fire that was still consuming the house.