THE BRIDGE
KOYASAN STOOD NERVOUSLY by the narrow stone bridge, chewing a clove of garlic. She was all alone and as miserable as a two-legged crab.
That morning, when she awoke, she had happily said to herself, “This is the day. I will go to the graveyard with the others and cross the bridge.” It seemed so easy when she thought about it. Just walk out there, set foot on the bridge and take one small step at a time. Not think about the evil spirits on the other side, lurking beneath the mud-stained tombs or behind the crumbling headstones. Just set her sights on the opposite bank of the stream and cross.
The happiness stayed with her while she munched a couple of dry cakes and fetched water from the well. She smiled as she dressed her younger sister, Maiko, and helped her mother cook breakfast. She laughed as she skipped with Maiko towards the graveyard, imagining how surprised the other children would be when they arrived to find her perched on top of a tomb.
The laughter faded as she passed the two trees which formed the rear gate of the village. Snarling, demonic faces had been carved into the bark of each, and the grooves had been filled with bright red and yellow paint. They had been put there to frighten off any evil spirits who might approach the village during the night. Not the spirits from the graveyard — they couldn’t cross the stream. But there were lots of other spirits at large in the world.
Koyasan knew she shouldn’t look at the faces. They always scared her. But her eyes wouldn’t let her pass without a quick glance left and right. When she saw the fierce, ugly, threatening faces, her stomach tightened and she moved a bit quicker. It was surely her imagination, but she thought the faces had shimmered, that the jaws had widened slightly, that the eyes had narrowed. And the trees themselves had seemed to breathe out.
She walked less confidently after that. Beside her, Maiko had taken no notice of the trees. But Maiko wasn’t scared of much. She was young and didn’t know enough about the world to be afraid of it.
But Koyasan still planned to cross the bridge. This was going to be the day. The sun was sizzling, no clouds in the sky. All the spirits would be at rest in the shadows or beneath the earth. As long as she stayed in the open, no harm could befall her.
When she got to the bridge, she found that she wasn’t the first to arrive. Some of her friends were already running around the headstones in the graveyard, tumbling over the tombs, chasing each other like playful cats. They shouted hello when they saw Koyasan, but didn’t call for her to join them. Every child in the village knew she was terrified of the graveyard’s evil spirits. None expected her to ever cross the bridge, and most had given up trying to convince her.
But today she’d prove them wrong! Koyasan believed in her heart that she wasn’t a coward. Last year, when a goat had fallen down a steep cliffy and the boys herding it had stood at the top, crying and afraid, Koyasan had climbed down and dragged the goat up. When she fell and cut her arm open once, and the blood flowed like wine, she hadn’t cried, not even when Itako stitched the cut closed, pushing a long curved needle in and out of Koyasan’s flesh.
There was almost nothing physical that Koyasan was afraid of. But spirits... detached, wretched souls... ghostly creatures of the other world... they were a different matter.
When Maiko saw the trio playing, she gave a gurgle of delight and tottered directly over the bridge to chase after them, even though she was too small, and her legs too stumpy, to catch any of the older, swifter children.
Koyasan dug a clove of garlic out of her skirt pocket and bit into it. She loved garlic and always carried a clove or two around. As she chewed, she stared at the bridge. It was an ordinary stone bridge. It had been built a long time ago and repaired in several places over the decades. A gentle stream gurgled along
KOYASAN STOOD NERVOUSLY by the narrow stone bridge, chewing a clove of garlic. She was all alone and as miserable as a two-legged crab.
That morning, when she awoke, she had happily said to herself, “This is the day. I will go to the graveyard with the others and cross the bridge.” It seemed so easy when she thought about it. Just walk out there, set foot on the bridge and take one small step at a time. Not think about the evil spirits on the other side, lurking beneath the mud-stained tombs or behind the crumbling headstones. Just set her sights on the opposite bank of the stream and cross.
The happiness stayed with her while she munched a couple of dry cakes and fetched water from the well. She smiled as she dressed her younger sister, Maiko, and helped her mother cook breakfast. She laughed as she skipped with Maiko towards the graveyard, imagining how surprised the other children would be when they arrived to find her perched on top of a tomb.
The laughter faded as she passed the two trees which formed the rear gate of the village. Snarling, demonic faces had been carved into the bark of each, and the grooves had been filled with bright red and yellow paint. They had been put there to frighten off any evil spirits who might approach the village during the night. Not the spirits from the graveyard — they couldn’t cross the stream. But there were lots of other spirits at large in the world.
Koyasan knew she shouldn’t look at the faces. They always scared her. But her eyes wouldn’t let her pass without a quick glance left and right. When she saw the fierce, ugly, threatening faces, her stomach tightened and she moved a bit quicker. It was surely her imagination, but she thought the faces had shimmered, that the jaws had widened slightly, that the eyes had narrowed. And the trees themselves had seemed to breathe out.
She walked less confidently after that. Beside her, Maiko had taken no notice of the trees. But Maiko wasn’t scared of much. She was young and didn’t know enough about the world to be afraid of it.
But Koyasan still planned to cross the bridge. This was going to be the day. The sun was sizzling, no clouds in the sky. All the spirits would be at rest in the shadows or beneath the earth. As long as she stayed in the open, no harm could befall her.
When she got to the bridge, she found that she wasn’t the first to arrive. Some of her friends were already running around the headstones in the graveyard, tumbling over the tombs, chasing each other like playful cats. They shouted hello when they saw Koyasan, but didn’t call for her to join them. Every child in the village knew she was terrified of the graveyard’s evil spirits. None expected her to ever cross the bridge, and most had given up trying to convince her.
But today she’d prove them wrong! Koyasan believed in her heart that she wasn’t a coward. Last year, when a goat had fallen down a steep cliffy and the boys herding it had stood at the top, crying and afraid, Koyasan had climbed down and dragged the goat up. When she fell and cut her arm open once, and the blood flowed like wine, she hadn’t cried, not even when Itako stitched the cut closed, pushing a long curved needle in and out of Koyasan’s flesh.
There was almost nothing physical that Koyasan was afraid of. But spirits... detached, wretched souls... ghostly creatures of the other world... they were a different matter.
When Maiko saw the trio playing, she gave a gurgle of delight and tottered directly over the bridge to chase after them, even though she was too small, and her legs too stumpy, to catch any of the older, swifter children.
Koyasan dug a clove of garlic out of her skirt pocket and bit into it. She loved garlic and always carried a clove or two around. As she chewed, she stared at the bridge. It was an ordinary stone bridge. It had been built a long time ago and repaired in several places over the decades. A gentle stream gurgled along
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