The Dummy was undoubtedly the greatest of things that found it's way into the enclave of Xi Lo. It was rooted in ancient strength, it carried within it a part of the spirit of the mountain itself. It would soon become a force that would effect quite a few things.
The story of the Dummy may begin with the story of a tree. The greatest of all trees in the Fin Ahn Mountain stood on the third highest peak. It was undoubtedly the tallest, thickest tree, and everybody agreed that it was the most ancient. However the tree had an illness.
The most ancient of trees was being hollowed out by a decay that crept inside of it. The creeping decay stole strength from the tree, and left behind a dark, gaping emptiness. Not much can be said about the source of this decay, except that the most ancient of trees was very aware of it, and he knew that it would be his death. So he called out, and Xi Lo heared him.
The tallest, thickest tree requested a boon from Xi Lo. The whisperings of leaves on the wind pass easily from tree to tree in the mountain of Fin Ahn, so the tree was well informed about the wonders of Xi Lo and his compound. The tree asked to be taken into the compound as a refugee.
So Xi Lo began the careful task of preparing a place for the greatest of trees.
Friday, February 23, 2007
Hmm . . . a little Giang Hu
Please forgive my lack of knowledge about this Genre.
And please allow this short story to morph as it does.
Xi Lo was a master within the Persian Cults that had spread into the western parts of the Central Kingdom. He was a godlike man. His power was well respected by those who knew to respect such things. He wielded a stance that allowed him to manipulate objects outside of him. His Chi had a strong connection to the world around him. So much that he could tear the weapons from his enemies at 30 meters distance. Or even fling large wagons onto crowds of soldiers. But, this is not a story about his warfare. This story is about his leisure.
Xi Lo was an ugly man. He was rough and crude. He had difficulty meeting a strangers eyes in the marketplace. So, he fled from his weakness. He became a recluse. He built himself a simple home not far from Wudan mountain. It was his compound, and he was alone.
Xi Lo was very pleased with the place that he had built for himself. The foundations, steps, and walkways were carefully crafted and placed from large stones that lined the nearby stream. The pillars were hewn and carved from noble trees that were ready to give themselves to the cause. Even the roof and walls were carefully placed, and Xi Lo knew that stones and woods were happy with him. It was the house that wanted to be built. But Xi Lo was lonely.
In an attempt to end his loneliness, Master Xi extended his powers in creativity. With each step he took, he felt the ground's longing. As his eyes roamed, he questioned each thing: "What would you like to be? And where?" And so, he set about fulfilling the requests of every pebble, leaf, boulder, and branch.
Soon his simple home began to resemble a palace of wonders. It was as if the mountain itself had built a gallery of the finest, most ethereal arts.
On the back wall of his receiving room, there was an elegant tapestry woven together by pine needles that had all fallen from the same tree. The tapestry depicted the tree that the pine needles themselves had grown from.
Above his path up from the stream, there hung in the air marvelous blue stones that were found in the stream. The blue stones were fixed in positions relative to each other as they laid in the stream. It was as if the Fa Loi Stream itself ran above the steps.
Adjacent to his front door, a myriad of brown leaves danced with each other as if perpetually blown by a wrinkle of wind. These leaves had enjoyed the fall from their trees. They loved being caught by the wind. They delighted in flight, and so he brought them up from the ground where they lay, and gave them their wish.
The centerpiece of his home was a bowl of water fixed to the ceiling of his central chamber. The water was gathered from the morning dew of the finest morning in spring. The bowl was woven from one branch of the slenderest of willows. It hung upside down from the ceiling, yet the dew drops remained still within it. When a visitor was met in the room, the dew would reform itself, and be molded to the wills, emotions, and attitudes of the guest. But, there were seldom visitors, and this was not the greatest of creations.
The greatest of creations in the enclave of Master Xi Lo was a simple wooden practice dummy.
And please allow this short story to morph as it does.
Xi Lo was a master within the Persian Cults that had spread into the western parts of the Central Kingdom. He was a godlike man. His power was well respected by those who knew to respect such things. He wielded a stance that allowed him to manipulate objects outside of him. His Chi had a strong connection to the world around him. So much that he could tear the weapons from his enemies at 30 meters distance. Or even fling large wagons onto crowds of soldiers. But, this is not a story about his warfare. This story is about his leisure.
Xi Lo was an ugly man. He was rough and crude. He had difficulty meeting a strangers eyes in the marketplace. So, he fled from his weakness. He became a recluse. He built himself a simple home not far from Wudan mountain. It was his compound, and he was alone.
Xi Lo was very pleased with the place that he had built for himself. The foundations, steps, and walkways were carefully crafted and placed from large stones that lined the nearby stream. The pillars were hewn and carved from noble trees that were ready to give themselves to the cause. Even the roof and walls were carefully placed, and Xi Lo knew that stones and woods were happy with him. It was the house that wanted to be built. But Xi Lo was lonely.
In an attempt to end his loneliness, Master Xi extended his powers in creativity. With each step he took, he felt the ground's longing. As his eyes roamed, he questioned each thing: "What would you like to be? And where?" And so, he set about fulfilling the requests of every pebble, leaf, boulder, and branch.
Soon his simple home began to resemble a palace of wonders. It was as if the mountain itself had built a gallery of the finest, most ethereal arts.
On the back wall of his receiving room, there was an elegant tapestry woven together by pine needles that had all fallen from the same tree. The tapestry depicted the tree that the pine needles themselves had grown from.
Above his path up from the stream, there hung in the air marvelous blue stones that were found in the stream. The blue stones were fixed in positions relative to each other as they laid in the stream. It was as if the Fa Loi Stream itself ran above the steps.
Adjacent to his front door, a myriad of brown leaves danced with each other as if perpetually blown by a wrinkle of wind. These leaves had enjoyed the fall from their trees. They loved being caught by the wind. They delighted in flight, and so he brought them up from the ground where they lay, and gave them their wish.
The centerpiece of his home was a bowl of water fixed to the ceiling of his central chamber. The water was gathered from the morning dew of the finest morning in spring. The bowl was woven from one branch of the slenderest of willows. It hung upside down from the ceiling, yet the dew drops remained still within it. When a visitor was met in the room, the dew would reform itself, and be molded to the wills, emotions, and attitudes of the guest. But, there were seldom visitors, and this was not the greatest of creations.
The greatest of creations in the enclave of Master Xi Lo was a simple wooden practice dummy.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Writing Idea
Umm this stuff is probably crap, but i feel like I'd like to do some writing.
Poetry is my standard. I write lyrics. I'd like to write a collection of short stories. hehe. What a waste yea?
If you read this please forgive me. I'm just lookin for a place to stick some ideas.
I missed an opportunity to write a testimony this morning. Oh well. And, I'm about to surf. So yay.
Kk. I'll write more later. Maybe.
Umm.
I should be writing a short story about a conflict between old friends during a return home.
Poetry is my standard. I write lyrics. I'd like to write a collection of short stories. hehe. What a waste yea?
If you read this please forgive me. I'm just lookin for a place to stick some ideas.
I missed an opportunity to write a testimony this morning. Oh well. And, I'm about to surf. So yay.
Kk. I'll write more later. Maybe.
Umm.
I should be writing a short story about a conflict between old friends during a return home.
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