The Highwayman's toll

Today, I intend to sing in a different tone,

A tale about a place and creatures unknown.

A highwayman of much repute,

A despicable man, an absolute brute.

His fellow robbers would often say,

"If the need arose, his shadow too he would betray."

Tonight as any other, he'd struck again,

But the cavalry caught up with his handymen.

He however, had cleverly evaded arrest.

"East!.", he yelled to them and fled west.

Before the men could see through the deceit

He had ridden onwards, a path discreet.

He trod over treacherous ravines,

Till he reached some sort of abandoned mines.

He pricked up his ears and came to a stop.

"Call it a night laddie, time to shut shop."

He tied his horse to the trunk of a nearby tree

Not a creature around, as far as he could see.

The woods were turning darker by the mile,

It was prudent to rest for a while. 

The mines looked sinister and fraught with danger,

To which our fiend was no stranger.

He clasped his dagger, his flask of mead,

The eerie glow of his lantern would onward lead.

As he cautiously hunched and walked inside,

He counted his steps, he marked each stride.

He ventured not too far from the mouth,

It would be too risky going further south.

He quickly set his lantern down,

And lay on his back, on a soft rabble of brown.

He slowly and steadily drifted towards dreams,

Working on several devious schemes.

His precious scheme were disrupted by a grunt.

"That's my bed!!",he heard a voice, hoarse and blunt.

He found himself staring at an angry Goblin,

It growled,"Why I oughtta have your skin!"

It had a grotesque, a most unsightly make,

The fiend knew that his life was now at stake.

Its big eyes glowed in the eerie light,

Long, pointed ears, its sharp nails, a fright.

Razor sharp teeth stood glaring at him,

With a large earthen pot, filled up to the brim

Something flowing and swirling inside,

For which the fiend would've given his hide.

"I apologize profusely, for having offended you,

I would've stayed out if I only knew

That this was home to a living soul,

I will try and repay, just name your toll."

The plan was to appeal to the Goblin's greed,

He had enough to bargain, there was gold and mead.

The Goblin seemed to have taken the bait,

"Alright! I'll have pieces of gold, atleast eight."

The fiend smiled a relieved smile,

"I'll give you more if you let me stay a while."

The Goblin gave a disgruntled nod,

He found the fiend's actions very odd.

"I have always wondered what Goblins do,

I'll pay extra gold for answers from you.",

The fiend offered it twelve pieces of gold,

It grabbed the gold as his eyes patrolled.

"I do what I want and in my mines I weigh

The riches that I gather during the day."

"But this mine has long been in disuse."

The fiend was curious of what riches it could produce.

The Goblin turned and walked further ahead,

Our fiend complied and offered gold instead.

"Precious gems and stones, gold and silver ore.

Beyond a human's reach, close to the earthy core."

The Goblin again walked further ahead.

The roof of the mine was getting closer overhead.

The fiend still followed, with his lantern.

He offered gold again, more he had to learn.

"What do you do with all the riches?"

"We temper them and carry them in our britches."

"What good would come of that?" 

"They are enchanted, used in combat."

"What kind of enchantments can you weave?"

"To heal, to relieve, to make one believe."

"Where from do you learn these magic spells?"

"From the underground, its ancient wells."

"Where is this underground that you mention?"

"A realm beyond your reach, a different dimension."

"How can one reach for this land of beyond?"

"Only if one signs, the ancient, earthly bond.

"A bond of iron, a pact of the creatures underground,

To take their form but by conditions bound.

One could be sworn by paying a small fees."

The fiend reached for gold, he found one last piece.

"Alas, you have not enough to garner my aid,

Be gone now! You can offer me naught, I'm afraid.",

The goblin feigned interest and turned away,

Greed had begun to hold its sway.

The fiend offered his horse, his dagger, his mead,

But the goblin refused, not once he agreed.

"But I do say, I don't mind some help myself,

I must take this earthen pot to an elf.

It resides in the underground where riches are smelt."

The fiend nodded, picked up the pot, warm it felt.

He peered inside now and then as he followed behind,

He fancied the riches that he would find,

A free trip to the underground without a bond,

The goblin knew not that he was being conned.

Weary though he was, the fiend diligently walked,

Now and then, the ground trembled and rocked.

As they passed, the fiend saw quarries in plenty,

Gold, silver, diamonds and rubies among the bounty.

He saw old, dwarf like men hammering the rocks,

The gems were separated, then kept as stocks.

The labour looked tired but more so deranged,

They mumbled and grumbled, no words they exchanged.

When their bags were filled to the brim,

They were offered food or drink or maybe a trim.

Their eyes were sunken, their skin red and dry,

They hunched and stooped and often one would cry.

Finally they reached the elf that was busy smelting,

"More resources, dear friend, here I bring."

The goblin said to the elf and started to walk away,

The fiend greedily pocketed gems that were lying astray.

He turned back to the entrance from which they came,

He soon realized the goblin's cunning game.

He knew not how to escape the underground,

By his actions and greed, he was now bound.

The entrance was nowhere to be seen,

"You can work for me in return for canteen.",

The goblin whispered and then walked away,

"Might as well be useful, if you decide to stay."

Every question had made him poorer by gold pieces two

Maybe he had bitten off more than he could chew.

Bringing her home

My voice, it falters but my will shall not betray,
These tales that I have vowed to convey.
As the fifth song I begin,
I feel an unearthly chill from within.
A woman waded forward, surrounded by snow,
The village lights had soon turned into a distant glow.
Izumi still went forward, unrelenting,
"Maiko!!", she called out, all the while lamenting.
"Maiko!!", her tears nearly froze as they came
But she continued to call out her name.
She thought of nothing, except her child,
She worried not of what lurked in the wild.
The villagers spoke about legends of Yuki
Tales of terror and downright spooky.
She was said to be a mistress of snow
Who perished in a snowstorm ages ago.
A Yokai's form she assumed,
So many lost, so many her snow consumed.
Some said she was a beauty, most divine
With unmatched allure, her silken robes were fine.
Some said her lips were frozen blue,
Some said that the living's life she drew.
Some said she feasted upon mortal blood
Till they bled dry and slumped with a thud.
Some said she floated like a feather,
Some said she could control the weather.
Some said she had long, black hair,
Few said she was also known to care.
But Izumi went on, her mind was made,
"Maiko!!", she continued to wade.
A snow storm was beginning to rise,
And all one could hear was Izumi's cries.
The wind howled and bellowed
To warn her but her grit would not erode.
She still went further, deeper inside the storm
When finally she spotted a stranded form.
She ran up to her and turned her around,
She gasped in horror and then she frowned.
A woman lay lifeless, turning blue in the snow,
A woman Izumi once used to know.
She said a silent prayer and paid her obeisance,
Death lingered nearby, engaged in its spritely dance.
"Maiko!!", she yelled as she moved ahead.
Till she found herself walking in little pools of red.
She carefully evaded the nightmarish sight,
And finally, she met her, in the dead of the night.
Izumi stayed still as a mist descended about,
It was Yuki Onna, the Yokai, without a doubt.
"Is my Maiko with you?", Izumi spoke,
"Surely human, you think this is a joke."
Yuki Onna's blue lips curled into a smirk.
"You must not disrupt my work."
Izumi prostrated before the mistress of snow,
"Please, take me and let her go."
"I sent several warnings your way,
But now you have reached the end of your stay.
However, I am not all ice as people say
And one act of kindness, I must display.
Maiko should be safe for now,
One wish, just one, I shall allow?"
Yuki Onna showed her visions of Maiko,
She had taken refuge in a cave of snow.
Izumi thought for a while and then said,
"I wish you were my child, back from the dead."
No sooner had Izumi finished saying so
That Yuki Onna melted away, so did her snow.
Tiny embers of purple sparkled about
And in her place a  baby lay, wearing a pout.
Izumi picked up the child and hugged her tight,
"Let's find your sister, now all is right."



About the post:  This post uses the concept of "Yuki Onna" which, as per Japanese beliefs is a spirit (Yokai) associated with the snow. It is believed of a woman and there are multiple myths about her appearance and powers. 

The Spirit Trap

Much to wonder, much to ponder.
Let me sing again, before you wander.
The fourth story bubbles in my mind,
Be patient as my words unwind.
A little village in the midst of gigantic heights
Himalayan winds roared unforgivingly through the nights.
The villagers abided by frugality,
Exception being their devotion to spirituality.
Every morning, in the early hours,
They gathered together with some flowers.
Together they walked down to the temple square
They meditated for calm and chanted a prayer.
As soon as their prayer was said,
A young monk would come ahead.
"Brothers and sisters, we start a new day."
He would bow with them, not a word more he would say.
When the sky would begin to wear a tinge of black,
All the villagers would tread back.
They would gather again and chant another prayer.
The monk would emerge, holy incense would temper the bitter air.
Then all would retire for the night,
The village would rest, not a soul to be in sight.
Such were the days and nights in the village,
Till one day, a stranger came, with an intent to pillage.
A spy from a foreign land,
He was there to observe the village firsthand.
Was the village worth a loot
Or was it worthy of territorial pursuit?
He had hid himself all day, trained was he,
"Strange! Not a single man or woman at this hour I see."
He said to himself as he moved in the shadows.
"Now what is that, one would suppose."
He looked at the roof of a nearby house,
He ventured close, quiet as a mouse.
A strange contraption adorned the roof,
Bright threads in a spindle left him further aloof.
He looked about and soon observed,
There was one on each roof, it left him unnerved.
"Get it together soldier! You are a master of stealth.
Finish the job and there will be considerable wealth."
He boosted his morale as the wind spat in his face.
"The temple, my steps from the morning I shall retrace.
Lets see what riches it keeps,
Might nick some souvenirs while everyone sleeps."
He walked stealthily in the middle of the night
Till a strange creature came in sight.
It had a thin straw like neck and a great pot belly,
Its eyes darted around, fast and haphazardly.
The spy was petrified and smothered a cry,
Not yet had this creature glanced upon the spy.
It carried the weight of its belly in its brawny hands,
As it waddled about, waving its very many strands
As they whipped the Himalayan air,
The spy ran towards the temple square.
He looked back over his shoulder,
The creature was hurling after him like a boulder.
The spy sped up and held on to his gait
While the creature followed, carrying his weight.
Soon the spy burst into the temple hall,
The monk emerged, he stood tall.
"Its here, help me. Its here.",
He uttered, cowering with fear.
The monk stood in front of him and waited.
Finally the creature came, its sharp teeth it grated.
The monk closed his eyes as if to pray.
The creature chomped hungrily, the monk was eaten away.
No sooner had it taken a bite,
The creature howled over his plight.
The spy still cowered in the shadows
He waited his turn, death was close. 
The creature choked and coughed in pain,
But his hunger he could not restrain.
It rested for a moment, as its form gorged,
Unaware of the energy that surged
From behind, until it spoke,
It chanted a prayer and the creature awoke.
But it neither howled, nor it stirred,
In a snap of the fingers, it took the form of a bird.
The spy was dumb-struck and turned towards the light
The monk! He held a torch, burning bright.
"Ser Na, hungry was that ghost,
Ever consuming , a disease among most.
From its Bardo state it has emerged,
Reborn as a bird once its senses converged.
Forget your violent ways and embrace serenity.
It is time that you remember your identity.
A spy of a ruthless kingdom nearby
You died of your own doing, acting on the sly.
As you fiddled with the spirit traps on the roof tops,
They resisted you and left you but an undead corpse."
The spy remembered now, life came and went fleetingly,
He felt his form change, he smiled one last time, sheepishly.
"I have been found but what awaits you."
With a loud hiss, out of snakeskin it grew.
And so did hiss the Himalayan wind that night,
As the monk came to realize his own plight.



About the post: The post uses the beliefs around Tibetan Ghosts. A hungry ghost as per Tibetan beliefs, has a narrow neck and a huge stomach and thus, can never be satisfied.

Bardo: An intermediate state after a person dies, between two lives, the one over and the next one.

Ser Na: Used to refer to the emotional state of the hungry ghost.

Spirit Trap: A spindle like object with bright threads entwined and used to catch spirits. Once the spirit is caught, the spirit trap is burnt.

Memories of Silver and Plum

So it is now that I have come to be weary,

For my third song, I promise not to be scary.

The household was quiet, all were asleep,

Until a little baby began to weep.

Mei instinctively shook herself out of bed,

She readied the milk and towards Ling she sped. 

It took a while to pacify Ling,

She fed her, shushed her and went on to sing.

A lullaby that her sister had taught her.

She smiled as she reminisced, close they were.

Her thoughts were disrupted as commotion arose,

"I'll have to get by another day, I suppose,

Ling, you have another full day with me,

Hao has no help either, happy are we?",

She teased the baby as it cooed happily.

Their fun and games were disrupted by a knock,

Mei soon heard the main door unlock.

She stood with Ling in her arms, at the door,

"A rest I beg, for my feet are sore."

Her eyes were warm and looked full of care,

She held a peaceful, an almost divine air.

The old woman came close and joined her hands.

That is when Ling caught some strands,

Of her silvery hair as the wind blew.

"Please come in, we welcome you."

Hao smiled at her and ushered her in,

"Might I ask, where have you been?

The sunrise approaches and the heat too

Is it not too harsh for you?"

She laughed as she entered their house,

"Nature discriminates not, be it young or old, man or mouse."

Hao and Mei exchanged a glance,

Could she be a learned sage by any chance?

"I am Hao and this is my wife Mei."

A gurgle escaped from Ling as if to say,

"Lets not forget Ling, the latest to join our family.",

Continued Hao, "Mei & I together run this infirmary."

"Let me hold the child, while you run errands.

Lets see if Ling and I can become friends.",

She said as she sat down on the floor,

Her arms outstretched, a smile she wore.

Ling happily played in the old lady's lap,

She was in no mood for her routine nap.

Meanwhile Mei and Hao got to their chores,

They heard the old woman discussing several lores.

She sang of magical tales for Ling,

About the Jade emperor and the Monkey king.

The couple tended to the patients who came.

While the old lady and Ling continued, game after game.

Finally Ling's sleepy little eyes gave up,

They set her to sleep and enjoyed a cup

Of Jasmine tea that Mei had brewed

"Now that I feel most renewed.

I must go back where I belong."

She said as they heard the evening gong.

That began to ring in the temple nearby.

A breeze took over and the clouds darkened the sky.

No matter how they asked her to stay,

The old lady insisted that she be on her way.

Hao and Mei packed meals for her journey,

they knew not how long it may be.

When something stirred Mei's attention

It was much beyond her comprehension.

The old lady was petting Ling gently, one last time,

And was singing a nursery rhyme.

Something that her nurse used to sing

About the joys of a colorful spring.

"Mei, my beautiful little plum,

What a fine woman you have become."

The wind whispered softly in her ear,

She ran towards Ling and wiped a solitary tear,

As she found Ling sleeping soundly 

And a departing ball of light she could see.

"Remember that the gong be a reminder to all

To relieve suffering, big or small,

For those who live and those who depart,

The living and their illusions must finally stand apart."


About the post: This story is based on "Guǐ Pó" which is categorized as ghosts of maids/servants who used to work for the aristocrats/rich families. They can be kind and friendly or violent and vengeful spirits.

Another interesting concept used in the post is about Chinese temples. In the morning, the gongs  have a fast and then slow pace to instill activity from the dullness of slumber. In the evening, the gongs and drum are sounded in reverse order, slow to fast pace, to remind all to be aware of illusions and to help relieve all beings of the netherworld from suffering. The gongs are sounded 108 times because it is believed that sentient beings have 108 types of worries. The gong is believed to dispel these 108 worries one by one.

The Midnight Ballet

No, I shall not cease to sing,

My second story I now bring.

It seems only yesterday,

When I heard of the 'Midnight ballet'.

A travelling troupe of artists most eccentric.

"Most fervent appeal to Mr. Resnick

To attend the Midnight Ballet as Chief Guest

Please bring your invite, might we suggest."

Mr. Resnick put the invitation away,

He hadn't heard of any Midnight Ballet.

Just then, the radio crackled with a jingle

"Midnight Ballet-let our world mingle,

Invitation only, for the elite,

We've saved you our best seat."

Mr. Resnick re-read the invite

"No address, no time except 'Midnight'."

Just then, Mr. Resnick heard the doorbell ring

Shocked at first, he shot up like a spring.

The butler, "Remy" soon walked up to him

Unsure why his master's face looked grim.

"A letter for you Sir, delivered just now,

I would be retiring for the night, if you allow."

"Yes, yes Remy, hand it to me,

Who made the delivery? Did you see?"

Remy shook his head and handed over the letter,

"Must be that blasted actor!

If he doesn't pay up this time,

I'll make him pay, that stupid mime!"

Remy left as Mr. Resnick unsealed the envelope.

"Greetings Sir, I mean well, you will understand, I hope.

A third time I have been served your notice,

I am penniless and worthless, after the recent crisis.

But I mean well, just like you always said

I'll pay back your loan, alive or dead.

I couldn't imagine being locked away,

Nor could I stand to betray

The trust that you displayed in me.

Thus I give you my possessions, three.

The first, my mind, though broken it be

Second, my mimes, my ability.

Third, my blood, my family.

I'll be there, always, just think of me."

As Mr. Resnick read the last word,

His surroundings stirred,

He gasped for air as the stirring ceased.

"You made it, oh we are most pleased."

His hands shook, his throat was sore,

He didn't seem to be himself anymore.

He turned around and held his chest

The mime whispered, "They are putting me to rest."

Mr. Resnick turned away and shut his eyes.

"This is just in my head, I must be wise!"

He turned back and found himself alone,

"A ploy, to avoid repaying his loan!"

Mr. Resnick dismissed it all and went to bed

But he woke up frightfully, his eyes red.

The clock had rung twelve in the night,

He had promptly sat upright.

Just then, his vision grew hazy,

"Welcome one and all to the world of crazy.

Please give a roar to our Chief Guest."

Ghostly howls left him clutching his chest.

They came close, "We mean well."

They pranced about him until he fell.

Just then, a radio crackled,

"Recent artists' murders leave detectives baffled,

A 'Mr. Resnick' seems to be the common link."

I'll leave the rest for you to think.

The Ghoul of sands

The first story is from an ancient land,

Where far and near was only sand.

A desert where no life was welcome,

The life that came would soon succumb.

Not to the weather, not to forces of nature,

But to some unearthly creature.

For what else could one make of the place,

As it seemed to lack God's mercy and grace.

Nevertheless, a town prospered,

Its people stayed most undeterred.

Their leader was a man of will,

Faith and courage he vowed to instill.

"Heed my words and all will be well."

He even taught them a short spell

"My master wishes his mercy on you,

You are welcome to claim your due

From my master, for his errand I run

These onions I carry for his sickly son."

Their leader repeated his words again,

"Fret not of the outcome, just be gone then.

It may find me sometime, night or day,

I'll fend it off, I have learnt a way.

Question me not upon the matter,

If you want our children to be fatter."

The townsfolk took heed and great care,

They traveled together, always as a pair.

They avoided the desert and its dunes,

For fear of the ghoul and its hellish tunes.

"Dear husband, what have you done?

We have neither a daughter, nor a son.

What if this ghoul paid us a visit?"

"I lied, I must admit.

But I've come to learn its secret.

Once on a journey, I felt most upset.

That is when I heard a ghoulish howl.

What is that stench! So fowl!

It yelled at me as I was jolted,

With my onions, I hastily bolted.

The ghoul abhors onions it seems

Now, sleep well my dear, pleasant dreams."

That night some heard an unearthly wail,

The leader woke up and looked frightfully pale.

The next day, the townsfolk shared their fears,

"My brothers and sisters, lend me your ears,

Last night, a ghoul indeed found me,

So I brought out onions for it to see.

Fear not, for it has retreated back to nowhere

Let this gift of life not go spare."

The townsfolk cheered and got to their chores

In time, the city coffers grew and so did their stores.

Now and then, they heard a ghoulish shriek

They grew accustomed to it, week after week.

Then a day came of great celebration,

The town leader revelled with his administration.

A feast was held at the leader's abode,

Exquisite food and drinks flowed.

Seasoned with 'baharat', the meat was divine,

But the leader felt a chill down his spine.

"I don't feel too well, I must rest."

Saying that, he disappeared from the fest.

His wife tried to follow him 

But he turned her away with a tone most grim.

She pressed her ear against his bedroom door,

She feared for him, a strange wailing he bore.

She had to know what troubled him so,

That's when she remembered the secret window.

She took to the stairs and turned away the flap,

As she peered below, from a long forgotten gap.

"Its not fair, she tricked me, she tricked me!

That evil step mother, how could I not see?

The nutmeg of her 'baharat' each day,

It killed me too soon, it whisked life away.

And now again, when I find some solace,

She's after me again, she enjoys this chase.

Soon I will overpower her as I feast

Day after day, I gather the souls of the deceased.

The other ghouls, they taste fine,

Soon all these mortals will be mine."

The leader laughed and cried and laughed at fate

It looked above and smirked at her straight.

The Storyteller in the shadows

I grew up in a land of dreams,

Where several worlds tugged at the seams.

I know not who I am or where I am going, 

All I know is that these songs I must sing.

Somehow I remember not much,

But I can still feel their cold touch.

They warn me not to reveal their ruse

But my conscience I cannot refuse.

So hear me well,

Stories that I have to tell.

Not a penny, not a dime,

I'll make it worth your time.

About the post: Currently, I am in the mood to post poetry with fantasy/horror/supernatural/thriller/mythology/folklore elements. This post sets the theme for the following posts.