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Terror in Kyoto
- Terror in Kyoto -
In old Kyoto, in the mists of one foggy autumn day,
There happened by an old cemetery, an aged hermit.
“Why are you here hermit; have you lost your way?”
So spoke a voice to the old man, as it thusly saw fit.
It came from the ground, and so the hermit did fear,
To go any deeper into the place, lest evil befall him!
“Why are you afraid hermit, to draw yourself near?”
And the old man felt such a chill upon his aged skin.
He heard the clattering of a wheel, but saw no cart,
Nor any other source for such a sound as could be.
“What sorcery is at work here; what demonic art!”
Such were the hermit’s thoughts, now spoken free.
But, the voice he heard did not reply to him again,
Though suddenly, the clattering returned far louder.
It drew closer and closer, around a distant bend…
But, of courage, the old man could not be prouder.
He stood fast, peering into the fog, ever unmoving!
Then, there appeared a hint of fire, and a growling.
“Why do I not flee; what is this that I am proving?”
There was a shape approaching, closely prowling!
It was like a wheel in shape, covered in red flame.
In the midst of the wheel was a dark, twisted face,
With tusk-like fangs like an animal none can tame!
Once, it had been a great daimyo fallen in grace…
Transformed in death, to this horrible monstrosity.
“I am coming to take you with me back to Hell…”
The face on the wheel kept chanting, so sinisterly.
The hermit tried to run, but his aged legs only fell!
The wheel rolled towards him faster each second.
He did not cry out for help, nor sought any pity…
For this creature was damnation itself given vent!
His voice chanted a spell of power older than he.
Clatter-clatter, the wheel came; the hermit sang…
He sang the spell now, for in music there is glory.
Somewhere far off, a temple bell solemnly rang…
As happens often in many a macabre ghost story.
Suddenly, the demonic wheel broke into pieces!
The hermit breathed easy, and got up to his feet.
“Before the old magic, even Hell itself ceases…”
He exclaimed, loudly, before deciding to retreat.
As he made his way towards his home so proud,
That he had outwitted an old evil from beyond…
He heard once more a clatter growing ever loud.
“Was I so prideful, and of my power over fond?”
He chastised himself, realizing that he was a fool.
Clatter-clatter, the wheel came, its’ fires blazing!
The hermit had not spells left, nor a magical tool,
Of the sort all great sorcerers may find amazing.
He could feel the heat of the wheel, as it did roll,
Like a juggernaut that could not hope be halted!
It burned his flesh much as might a burning coal,
And so for screaming he could never be faulted.
His time was over; his age, had caught his heart,
Then by time the fog had lifted long hours later…
His charred, headless form had been torn apart.
Not long after, a second wheel did thus clatter,
Bearing the hermit’s head within its’ fiery frame.
All who heard it, knew the terror of its’ passing!
The hermit had been judged: certain, his blame.
He rolls along in the fog still, his voice laughing!
In old Kyoto, in the mists of one foggy autumn day,
There happened by an old cemetery, an aged hermit.
“Why are you here hermit; have you lost your way?”
So spoke a voice to the old man, as it thusly saw fit.
It came from the ground, and so the hermit did fear,
To go any deeper into the place, lest evil befall him!
“Why are you afraid hermit, to draw yourself near?”
And the old man felt such a chill upon his aged skin.
He heard the clattering of a wheel, but saw no cart,
Nor any other source for such a sound as could be.
“What sorcery is at work here; what demonic art!”
Such were the hermit’s thoughts, now spoken free.
But, the voice he heard did not reply to him again,
Though suddenly, the clattering returned far louder.
It drew closer and closer, around a distant bend…
But, of courage, the old man could not be prouder.
He stood fast, peering into the fog, ever unmoving!
Then, there appeared a hint of fire, and a growling.
“Why do I not flee; what is this that I am proving?”
There was a shape approaching, closely prowling!
It was like a wheel in shape, covered in red flame.
In the midst of the wheel was a dark, twisted face,
With tusk-like fangs like an animal none can tame!
Once, it had been a great daimyo fallen in grace…
Transformed in death, to this horrible monstrosity.
“I am coming to take you with me back to Hell…”
The face on the wheel kept chanting, so sinisterly.
The hermit tried to run, but his aged legs only fell!
The wheel rolled towards him faster each second.
He did not cry out for help, nor sought any pity…
For this creature was damnation itself given vent!
His voice chanted a spell of power older than he.
Clatter-clatter, the wheel came; the hermit sang…
He sang the spell now, for in music there is glory.
Somewhere far off, a temple bell solemnly rang…
As happens often in many a macabre ghost story.
Suddenly, the demonic wheel broke into pieces!
The hermit breathed easy, and got up to his feet.
“Before the old magic, even Hell itself ceases…”
He exclaimed, loudly, before deciding to retreat.
As he made his way towards his home so proud,
That he had outwitted an old evil from beyond…
He heard once more a clatter growing ever loud.
“Was I so prideful, and of my power over fond?”
He chastised himself, realizing that he was a fool.
Clatter-clatter, the wheel came, its’ fires blazing!
The hermit had not spells left, nor a magical tool,
Of the sort all great sorcerers may find amazing.
He could feel the heat of the wheel, as it did roll,
Like a juggernaut that could not hope be halted!
It burned his flesh much as might a burning coal,
And so for screaming he could never be faulted.
His time was over; his age, had caught his heart,
Then by time the fog had lifted long hours later…
His charred, headless form had been torn apart.
Not long after, a second wheel did thus clatter,
Bearing the hermit’s head within its’ fiery frame.
All who heard it, knew the terror of its’ passing!
The hermit had been judged: certain, his blame.
He rolls along in the fog still, his voice laughing!
Published 10th Jul 2012
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