Pali incantation written in khmer

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2024.05.27 14:23 PLUTO_HAS_COME_BACK Vibhajjavada and Sarvāstivāda—Part 11

Vibhajjavada and Sarvāstivāda: Analysing the Heart Sutra from Theravadin Perspective—Part 11

5.1. Vibhajjavāda vs Sarvāstivāda

Āṇi Sutta

Sarvāstivāda
In future time, there will be bhikkhus who will not listen to the utterance of such discourses which are words of the Tathāgata, profound, profound in meaning, leading beyond the world, (consistently) connected with emptiness, they will not lend ear, they will not apply their mind on knowledge, they will not consider those teachings as to be taken up and mastered.
Vibhajjavada
Thus, bhikkhus, the discourses which are words of the Tathāgata, profound, profound in meaning, leading beyond the world, (consistently) connected with emptiness, will disappear.
Bhikkhus, mindfulness of the body in the body, practised, developed, made much, made the vehicle, made the foundation, indulged in the practise with aroused effort, I declare ten benefits. What are the ten?
Vibhajjavadis (Theravadis) follow the Dhamma-Vinaya Sasana established by the Buddha.

5.1.1. The meaning of "great vehicle"

Nagarjuna explains in the Maha Prajnaparamita Sastra the meaning of Mahayana.
[Prajnaparamita (CONZE page 32):]
1 . Its Constituents :
(a) Six Perfections.
(b) 20 Kinds of Emptiness.
(c) 112 Concentrations.
(d) 21 Practices.
(e) 43 Dharani-doors.
(f) 10 Stages.
  1. Three questions concerning the great vehicle.
  2. Why the "Great Vehicle" is so called.
[Prajnaparamita (CONZE page 577):] Gradually they are nirvanized in the realm of Nirvana which leaves nothing behind and that through the three vehicles, i.e. the Disciple-vehicle, the Pratyekabuddha-vehicle, or the great vehicle. It is thus that Bodhisattvas achieve much good when they raise their thought to the supreme enlightenment and progress to Thusness, etc. to : until they win final Nirvana in the realm of Nirvana which leaves nothing behind.

Ādhārayogasthāna

The Yogācārin mahayana advocates for Buddhahood but does not accept everyone can become a Buddha:
Yogasthāna one is titled the section on the basis (ādhārayogasthāna) because it deals with the basis (ādhāra) for becoming a bodhisattva (topic 1). There are three main aspects of the basis of a bodhisattva. The first is an inborn unique predisposition (svagotra) for the bodhisattva path, those who lack this are said to be unable to reach Buddhahood. The second is "the basis of initially engendering the resolve to reach Buddhahood (prathamaś cittotpādaḥ), which refers to arousing bodhicitta, practicing the perfections for the benefit of oneself and others, and so forth. The third is "the basis of practicing all the factors leading to Awakening" (sarve bodhipakṣyā dharmāḥ).\82]) [Yogācārabhūmi-Śāstra (wiki)]
On the other hand, chanting the name of Amitabha (Avalokiteśvara) alone is enough for a place in heaven:
if we can recite Namo Amitabha Buddha exclusively, we will have grasped the essence of the Dharma [...] It doesn’t matter if a person is of superior, intermediate or inferior ability, intelligent or dull, literate or illiterate, male or female, young or old, worthy or unworthy – anyone who recites will achieve rebirth [and then Buddhahood in the Pure Land]. Such certainty does not apply to practitioners of other schools [although our Buddha Amitabha and bodhisattvas have mercy for all of you]. [A Discourse by Dharma Master Huijing Amitabha-Recitation Society, Tainan, Taiwan; March 10, 2007]

Mahayanist Scriptures

Some early authors of the Savāstivādi/Mahayanist sutras were Mādhyamika, Nāgārjuna, Vasubandhu, etc. However, the authors of the Heart Sutra (Prajñāpāramitāhṛdayasūtra) is not known, forgotten or revealed.
in his Treasury and Twenty Verses arguments, Vasubandhu argues that naïvely to require that all scriptures be interpreted literally is to insist that the Buddha repeatedly contradicted himself. He cites many internal references to lost or unknown texts, and argues that this shows that no lineage or school can claim to have a complete canon. Unlike his Mādhyamika opponents, Vasubandhu believes that the Mahāyāna Sūtras must be read under a “special intention [abhiprāya],” so as to prevent the danger of nihilism. [Vasubandhu: 3. Approaches to Scriptural Interpretation (Jonathan C. Gold)]

The outside agent

[Ephesians 5:18 (Eddie Rasnake):] being “filled with the Spirit” involves the Spirit getting you. Paul contrasts being drunk on wine with being filled with the Spirit. In both cases, an outside agent is influencing the person. With both, it is initiated by an act of the will, and both are results of the outside agent’s work on the inside. With wine, it is alcohol released from the stomach into the bloodstream and brain. With filling, it is the already present Spirit released into all parts of the body. Both result in altered personalities consistent with the altering agent.
[Lanka Chapter 13:] In the perfect self-realization of Noble Wisdom that fallows the inconceivable transformation death of the Bodhisattva's individualized will-control, he no longer lives unto himself, but the life that he lives thereafter is the Tathagata's universalized life as manifested in its transformations. In this perfect self-realization of Noble Wisdom the Bodhisattva realizes that for the Buddhas there is no Nirvana.

Magic and Witchcraft

A magazine interviewed a famous Theravada monk Thit-cha-taung Sayadaw U Tiloka about witch-craft and possession. The Sayadaw explained a fine-particle body of a paranormal being can possess and unpossess a coarse-particle human body just the way milk and water can merge and unmerge, and a flame can move through metal mesh without destroying each other. The fine-particle body can occupy the spaces inside a coarse-particle body. The paranormal being can possess a human or animal by suppressing consciousness that resides around the chest. The possessed becomes totally unconscious and unaware of the situation. Such a paranormal being can be parasitic.
The fine-particles like the cool-therm (sita tejo) can pass through a coarse-particle body. We can see the sita tejo as shadow or the dark when the light is off. All beings on the Earth are made of the fine or coarse particles (the different forms of the four mahabhuta).
There are thus two types of tejo and sita tejo. Utu (climate) is another name for tejo. When the body and environs are cool, sita tejo pervades the entire atmosphere. When hot, unha tejo does the same. If this tejo dhatu is hot when it should be hot and cool when it is the time for cool season, we have healthy climate. In our bodies if tejo is moderate we are healthy; if not we are sick; if in excess we die. [Abhidhamma in Daily Life (Ashin Janakabhivamsa): Part 1 - The Four Fundamental Elements]
The paranormal being like gandhabba devas (translated as fairy) can come and dwell with their mansions inside humans, like a tree-spirit in a tree. A gandhabba deva can be summoned and made to come and reside inside a human body. That is not a type of possession. Either way, the individuals with gandhabba devas dwelling inside them can get a share of the deva's supernatural power to perform (extraordinary) magic, witchery, etc., These individuals with such power can follow the amoral path to hurt others or the moral path to treat or help those attacked/hurt by those from the lower path. Not all gandhabba are good devas. They would not come and reside in a human unless they can get something back.
The Vinaya prohibits the bhikkhus from using these devas, performing magic and fortune-telling.
Think Again Before You Dismiss Magic (Roger R. Jackson): An article on the Lion's Rore (a Buddhist website) explores the practice of magic and spell in the Buddhist world. The author argues for the practice of magic and spell. He asked a young Siri Lankan bhikkhu, who replied, "That is not [Theravada] Buddhism."
"Magic is our shared heritage.” — Sam van Schaik
In the Atanatiya Sutta (D.iii.203, 204) the Gandhabbas are mentioned among those likely to trouble monks and nuns in their meditations in solitude.

Alavaka Yakkha

Alavaka Sutta: DISCOURSE TO ALAVAKA: The seventh question of Alavaka: Who is tactful and energetic, And gains wealth by his own effort. The Buddha's answer: Fame will he acquire by truth, And friendship by his giving.
Understanding the meaning of the Buddha's words, Alavaka said, "Now I know what is the secret of my future welfare. It is for my own welfare and good that the Buddha came to Alavi." Alavaka prostrated before the Buddha and begged to be accepted as a disciple. [Life of the Buddha: 10. Alavaka, the Demon (Buddha Net)]
Mass Conversion (Dhammābhisamaya)
[King of Alavi] with his hosts of ministers, troops and were joined by the citizens of Āḷavi who did obeisance to the Buddha and sat down around him and asked: “Exalted Buddha, how could you tame such a wild and cruel ogre?”
The Buddha then delivered the aforesaid Āḷavaka Sutta in twelve verses in which He started His narration with the attack made by the ogre and went on relating in detail: “In this manner did he rain nine kinds of weapons, in this manner did he exhibit horrible things, in this manner did he put questions to me, in this manner did I answer his questions.” By the end of the discourse eighty-four thousand sentient beings realized the Four Truths and found emancipation.
Regular Offerings made to The Ogre
Now King Āḷavaka and the citizens of Āḷavi built a shrine for the ogre Āḷavaka, near the (original) shrine of Vessavana Deva King. And they regularly made to the ogre, offerings worthy of divine beings (devatabali) such as flowers, perfumes, etc. [The Great Chronicle of Buddhas (Ven. Mingun Sayadaw): Part 4 - Taming of Āḷavaka the Ogre]

The birth of all things

'The external agent' rejects upadana-paccaya bhavo (life arises due to clinging), as the Buddha stated in the Paticcasamuppada.
[Lanka Chapter 3:] They foster the notion that the birth of all things is derived from the concept of being and non-being, and fail to regard it as it truly is, as caused by attachments to the multitudiousness which arises from discriminations of the mind itself.
[Lanka Chapter 3:] When objects are not seen and judged as they truly are in themselves, there is discrimination and clinging to the notions of being and non-being, and individualized self-nature, and as long as these notions of individuality and self-nature persist, the philosophers are bound to explain the external world by a law of causation.

5.1.2. Heart Sutra: Background

Heart Sutra (Prajñāpāramitāhṛdaya) is believed composed in the Kushan Empire in the 1st century CE.
[Heart (Red, page 21):] since the Heart Sutra was clearly organized as a response to the teachings of the Sarvastivadins, it was probably a Sarvastivadin monk (or former Sarvastivadin monk) in this region who composed the Heart Sutra upon realizing the limitations of the Sarvastivadin Abhidharma
[Heart (Centre):] Hear then the great dharani, The radiant peerless mantra, The Prajnaparamita...

5.1.3. Jñānapāramitā vs Prajñāpāramitā

The Savāstivādi/Mahayanist scriptures present two sets of pāramitā. For the concept of Avalokiteśvara, they present the set of six pāramitās, excluding Jñānapāramitā.
[Heart (Red page 5-6):] Whoever the author was, he begins by calling upon Avalokiteshvara, Buddhism's most revered bodhisattva, to introduce the teaching of Prajnaparamita, the Perfection of Wisdom, to the Buddha's wisest disciple, Shariputra. Avalokiteshvara then shines the light of this radical form of wisdom on the major approaches to reality used by the Sarvastivadins, the most prominent Buddhist sect in Northern India and Central Asia two thousand years ago, and outlines the alternative approach of the Prajnaparamita. Finally, Avalokiteshvara also provides a key by means of which we can call this teaching to mind and unlock its power on our behalf

5.1.4. Prajñā in place of Jñāna:

[Heart (Red continues)] The basis for this reformulation is the teaching of prajna in place of jnana, or wisdom rather than knowledge.
What is prajñā (perfect wisdom)?
[Prajnaparamita (CONZE page 56):] The Lord: Here the Bodhisattva, the great being, coursing in the perfection of wisdom, truly a Bodhisattva, does not review a Bodhisattva, nor the word "Bodhisattva", nor the course of a Bodhisattva, (nor the perfection of wisdom, nor the word "perfection of wisdom". He does not review that "he courses", nor that "he does not course"). He does not review form, feeling, perception, formative forces, or consciousness. (P38) And why? Because the Bodhisattva, the great being, is actually empty of the own-being of a Bodhisattva, and because perfect wisdom is by its own-being empty.
[Prajnaparamita (CONZE page 189):] a Bodhisattva who courses towards enlightenment. If, when this is being expounded, the thought of a Bodhisattva does not become cowed, stolid, or regretful, and if his mind does not tremble, is not frightened, nor terrified, then that Bodhisattva, that great being courses in perfect wisdom. [...] It is because of the nonbeingness, the emptiness, the isolatedness of a being, because of the absence of an own-being in it, that a Bodhisattva does not approach (a Bodhi-being) at the beginning, at the end, or in the middle. And why? Because as a result of the nonbeingness of a being, its emptiness, its isolatedness, and the absence of own-being in it one cannot apprehend its beginning, etc.
[Lanka Chapter 2:] you and all Bodhisattvas should discipline yourselves in the realization and patience acceptance of the truths of the emptiness, un-bornness, no self-natureness, and the non-duality of all things.
Defining prajñā:
[Lanka Chapter 3:] By emptiness in the highest sense of the emptiness of Ultimate Reality is meant that in the attainment of inner self-realization of Noble Wisdom [āryajñāna] there is no trace of habit-energy generated by erroneous conceptions...
[Prajñā) (Buddhism) (Williams):] prajñā according to Mahayana Prajñāpāramitā sutras is ultimately the state of understanding emptiness (śūnyatā).\16])#cite_note-:6-16) [What is Prajna? (cont.) (FoGuangPedia):] Prajna is understanding the inherent emptiness of dependent origination, and knowing that true emptiness is only possible because of wondrous existence. [Prajñā) (Hinduism):] Prajña or Pragya is used to refer to the highest and purest form of wisdom,

Prajñā cannot replace Jñāna

Lankavatara presents its Noble Wisdom as perfect-knowledge (jnana) in Chapter 4, 11 and 12. Lankavatara does not consider prajñā as wisdom.
[Lanka Chapter 4:] There are four kinds of Knowledge: Appearance-knowledge, relative-knowledge, perfect-knowledge, and Transcendental Intelligence [...] Perfect-knowledge belongs to the world of the Bodhisattvas who recognize that all things are but manifestations of mind; who clearly understand the emptiness, the un-borness [...] and is the pathway and entrance into the exalted state of self-realization of Noble Wisdom. Perfect-knowledge (jnana) belongs to the Bodhisattvas who are entirely free from the dualism of being and non-being, no-birth and no-annihilation, [...] To them the world is like a vision and a dream, it is like the birth and death of a barren-woman's child; to them there is nothing evolving and nothing disappearing. The wise who cherish Perfect-knowledge, may be divided into three classes, disciples, masters and Arhats. [...] Arhats rise when the error of all discrimination is realized. Error being discriminated by the wise turns into Truth by virtue of the "turning-about" that takes place within the deepest consciousness. Mind, thus emancipated, enters into perfect self-realization of Noble Wisdom.
[Lanka Chapter 11:] The Blessed One replied: The Bodhisattvas are those earnest disciples who are enlightened by reason of their efforts to attain self-realization of Noble Wisdom and who have taken upon themselves the task of enlightening others. They have gained a clear understanding of the truth that all things are empty, un-born, and of a maya-like nature; [...] and they are abiding in the perfect-knowledge that they have gained by self-realization of Noble Wisdom.
[Lanka Chapter 12:] Second, as Jnana, [Dhammakaya] is the mind-world and its principle of the intellection and consciousness. Third as Dristi, it is the realm of dualism which is the physical world of birth and death wherein are manifested all the differentiation, desire, attachment and suffering.

Prajñāpāramitā

To reach āryajñāna (the Noble Wisdom), Lankavatara chapter 11 recommends "to practice the six Paramitas" which are presented in Lanka chapter 9 as charity, good behavior, patience, zeal, thoughtfulness and wisdom.
Lankavatara does not recognise jñānapāramitā, nor āryajñāna as a paramita. Nevertheless, Nāgārjuna presents Daśapāramitā (दशपारमिता) (the “ten perferctions”) in the Dharma-saṃgraha (section 18), including 5) dhyāna-meditation, 6) prajñā-wisdom, and 10) jñāna-knowledge.
If Nāgārjuna authored both the Mahāprajñāpāramitāsūtra and the Dharma-saṃgraha, why did he reject jñānapāramitā? The true author of the Dharma-saṃgraha might be a different Nāgārjuna if Nāgārjuna the author of Mahāprajñāpāramitāsūtra did not present the Daśapāramitā. The four further virtues [were] added later, but the authors are not the famous Nāgārjuna.
Florin Deleanu proposes a hypothesis:
It is not so important whether the content of the four extra perfections, or for that matter the daśapāramitā model itself, was known to the authors of the Ādhārayogasthāna or not. [...] The ten-pāramitā model must have been adopted later, and one of the reasons probably was the introduction of the complex vihāra-based path and the need to have more perfections corresponding, whenever possible, to each major stage. (On the pāramitā-theory in the Bodhisattvabhūmi in general and its influence on later Yogācāra texts, see SHIMIZU, 1987.) [Meditative Practices in the Bodhisattvabhūmi Quest for and Liberation through the Thing-In-Itself (Florin DELEANU. Page 905)]
Ādhārayogasthāna is an invention of the Yogācāra school
[Florin Deleanu (page 884):] The textual history of the Yogācāra tradition begins with the Śrāvakabhūmi, an exposition of the theory and praxis of the spiritual path along lines common to a few Northern Śrāvakayāna schools, most notably the Sarvāstivāda.
The Sarvāstivādis claim Sarvāstivāda was a part of the original Sangha, which they argued with, without ever been a part of it. Thus, their doctrine does not come from the original Dhamma-Vinaya established by the Sakyamuni. Their doctrine existed during the Buddha's time, so it was rejected by the Buddha Himself.
The followers of Lankavatara and Prajñāpāramitāhṛdayasūtra (the mini version of the Mahāprajñāpāramitāsūtra) ignore the āryajñāna (the Noble Wisdom). Instead, they follow Anuttarasamyaksambodhi from the Lotus Sutra but not the Nirvana concept presented by it.
Prajñāpāramitā is the sixth stepping stone to reach Āryajñāna (Noble Knowledge), buddhahood, understanding of emptiness. Prajñā (wisdom) cannot replace jñāna (knowledge) without a successful rebellion.

5.1.5. Bodhisattva Avalokiteśvara vs Arhat Śāriputra

[Mahāprajñāpāramitāśāstra (chapter XV): Śāriputra (शारिपुत्र):]“Śāriputra is by far the foremost in wisdom (prajñā). A stanza of the Buddha says: ‘Except for the Buddha Bhagavat, the knowledge (jñāna) of all beings would not equal a sixteenth part compared with the wisdom (prajñā) and learning (bahuśruta) of Śāriputra’”.
[Buddhāvataṃsaka (the Flower Adornment Sutra):][the Sound Hearers / arhats] constantly dwelling in the reality-limit and ultimate stillness and quietude, they were far removed from great compassion. They forsook living beings and dwelt in their own affairs.
[Prajnaparamita (CONZE page 3):] It is then said that the wisdom of a Bodhisattva is superior to that of the Arhats, because in his compassion he puts it at the disposal of all beings, so that they may be able to win Nirvana. This superiority is based on the "thought of enlightenment"
and the 6 perfections (P 41), and it finds an expression in the fact that, as the source of all that is good in the world, the Bodhisattvas are worthy of the gifts of all beings, including the Arhats.

5.1.6. What Is the Āryajñāna:

[Lanka Chapter 1:] In the days of old the Tathagatas of the past who were Arhats and fully-enlightened Ones came to the Castle of Lanka on Mount Malaya and discoursed on the Truth of Noble Wisdom that is beyond the reasoning knowledge of the philosophers as well as being beyond the understanding of ordinary disciples and masters; and which is realizable only within the inmost consciousness [...] Then said Mahamati the Bodhisattva-Mahasattva: O blessed One, Sugata, Arhat and Fully-Enlightened One, pray tell us about the realization of Noble Wisdom [...] By which, going up continuously by the stages of purification, one enters at last upon the stage of Tathagatahood [...] Mahamati the Bodhisattva-Mahasattva: By Noble Wisdom, going up continuously by the stages of purification, one enters at last upon the stage of Tathagatahood, Noble Wisdom is involved in all the stages of purification
[Lanka Chapter 13:] Nirvana is the realm of the Dharmata-Buddha; it is where the manifestation of Noble Wisdom that is Buddhahood expresses itself in Perfect Love for all; it is where the manifestation of Perfect Love that is Tathagatahood expresses itself in Noble Wisdom for the enlightenment of all -there, indeed, is Nirvana!
Lankavatara presents the āryajñāna as the highest stage that is Tathagatahood that develops within a bodhisattva. Then he should perfect Jñānapāramitā the “perfection of knowledge.” Lankavatara explains about Noble Wisdom from chapter 1 to chapter 13.
Rejecting jñāna is rejecting āryajñāna.

5.1.7. Sabbanuta Ñāna (Omniscience)

The Great Discourse on the Wheel of Dhamma Part VIII [Buddha Net]
Sammasambodhi is the arahatta magga nana which is attained only by the Buddhas. The Buddhas gain this arahatta magga nana intuitively by their own efforts without any instruction from others. By this nana, they rightly and perfectly know everything because with it arises simultaneously the sabbannuta nana which knows everything.
PIC AND HISTORY Mahidol University Mara tries to prevent the going forth, telling the Prince that in seven days he will inherit an empire; the Prince does not listen
When Prince Siddhattha had ridden the horse through the city gate into the moonlit night, a voice like music arose from close to the city gate. That voice forbade the Prince from going forth.
[Mara's visit to deter the Bodhisatta by feigning goodwill in The Great Chronicle of Buddhas (Ven. Mingun Sayadaw):] (...the Mara was in fact just a powerful Deva inhabitant of the Paranimitta Vasavatti Deva world, leading an insurgency there with a large retinue of evil Devas, causing great nuisance to humans, Deva and Brahmas in their performance of meritorious deeds.)
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2024.05.26 19:53 Soggy_Discussion Charis and Wommack "Give Back" to Themselves

Talk is cheap. That must be the reason that false apostle Andrew Wommack does so much talking on podcasts, videos, and guest sermons. After all, he’s siphoned his millions by hocking cure-alls and teaching Word of Faith incantations to followers. If his efforts weren’t so insidious, they would be comical in their similarities to a Live Action Role-Playing (LARP) session.
Wommack spews a lot of lies and hate against political opponents, the LGBTQ community, other religions, and people who do not follow his commands (which is an overwhelming majority of the world at-large). He also lends a lot of lip service to walking back his vitriol, without apologizing or admitting he’s wrong, of course. In one part of a sermon, Wommack will declare that his enemies are “demonic,” yet he will also indicate that he does not hate anyone.
That’s right, he doesn’t hate you. He just wants to shoot and bring to heel anyone outside of his cult to beget the second-coming of Jesus by creating a hellscape Christian theonomy on earth. Moreso than Wommack himself, his fascist American Taliban training institute Charis Bible College loves to obscure their heinous actions with propaganda inflating their “good” deeds.
A little while ago, Charis and Wommack began licking their wounds and regrouping after they failed to usurp several Woodland Park City Council seats by secreting-in candidates who had lied about their cult affiliations. The good citizens of Woodland Park sussed out and exposed these Manchurian Candidates. In turn, true and caring community members were duly elected. Shortly after, Charis students and Truth and Liberty Coalition stooges from all over the U.S. began to flood community social media with assertions of philanthropy and donations.
“Andrew Wommack Ministries gives so much back to the community,” they would say, citing some pittance of money that they had provided to take care of the countless homeless and destitute followers camping in Pike National Forest. Let me make that clear: They claimed that Andrew Wommack Ministries and Charis Bible “College” had donated to help the poor and homeless when they were really just helping a few Charis students, as they should be doing in the first place.
Charis and Wommack have created a veritable flood of people who do not have money, cannot get housing, and who rely on a number of other churches and organizations to provide them with fulfillment of basic human needs. Meanwhile, their Word of Faith magic school with fiat degrees offers loans to put students in debt and further impoverish them.
When the Charis Bible Cult “gives back,” they are really just doing enough to make themselves look better. Their followers and leaders will inevitably spin and propagate propaganda to pat themselves on the back and obscure criticism.
Andrew Wommack Ministries promised, via written agreement, to pay property taxes for student dorms at Charis Bible College so that public services and citizen taxpayers would not suffer an undue burden for the thousands of people attending the Word of Faith Hogwarts. A litany of social and mental health issues arises from this population, putting a huge burden on local governments. Yet, when it came time to begin paying these taxes, Andrew Wommack and his minions went back on their word and challenged Teller County fire departments, police, city, and special districts to try and enforce the agreement. As a consolation to the millions of dollars in property taxes that would have helped public services weather the onslaught of Charis students and staff, Andrew Wommack Ministries offered the City of Woodland Park ONLY $250,000: Just one payment, to one entity, as compensation for lies and reneging on their word.
Charis Bible College, Truth and Liberty Coalition, and Andrew Wommack Ministries cultists began to post propaganda on social media and in local papers claiming that the “donation” to Woodland Park was philanthropic. Meanwhile, the police and firefighters who diligently serve cultists as they would anyone else, have done without essential funding to mitigate the costs to themselves and taxpayers.
Imagine that a friend had taken $1,000 from you while enjoying a meal in your home. They then gave you back $50 and lauded their own generosity. They even published an ad in newspapers and on Facebook to inform the community of their philanthropy. While different in scale, these actions mirror the Charis cult’s inequitable and criminal behavior.
Common decency, truth-telling, and fairness do not mean anything to Andrew Wommack Ministries. When challenged on their propaganda regarding the “donation” to Woodland Park and their deprivation of other public services, the Charis cultists and middle-management said, “Why would we want to pay taxes we don’t have to pay?”
To that, I pose a more pertinent question: Why should the citizens of Teller County have to pay welfare to the millionaire Andrew Wommack and his minions who are continuously deceiving the citizenry, attempting to take over the community, and endeavoring to install a theonomy to replace our American Democratic Republic?
Whenever Charis and Wommack speak of philanthropy, they are hiding selfish motives.
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2024.05.24 23:13 FunnyWay4369 Nirvana and Neuroscience

Through meditation we believe that we can experience brain states while awake that normally only arise during deep sleep. Remaining still in the meditative posture for an extended period of time, 'tricks' the body and brain into thinking we are asleep. However because we are not laying down, but rather sitting up the body has to engage in a minimal though significant amount of neural and muscular feedback to maintain the meditative posture. It is this subtle feedback that allows us to maintain conscious awareness, without sleep paralysis, as our brain enters deep sleep states. These deep sleep states involve periods where the cortex or dualistic mind has gone 'off-line' and our awareness is able to experience the direct sensory stimulus as it arises in the body, without the meaning and words that arise with the normal cortical integration of these primary sensory stimulus.
As we develop and mature I believe our cortical/thalamic complex gradually creates a VR type experience for our awareness, so gradually we no longer see what arrives at our eyes but rather is what is constructed from the direct sensory experience in the occipital lobe of the cortex - our visual center. By the time we are adults our awareness can no longer directly perceive the external world. It can only see and hear the reprocessed reality as it is reconstructed from direct sensory stimulus, in our cortex. As adults we never see the outside world. We don't see the mountain. We only see the image of a mountain created in our visual cortex.
Without the ability to integrate information the cortex would no longer be able to read or use language and thus the dualistic mind would no longer interfere with the awareness of primary stimulus...and the 'manifold of named things' is extinguished.
These studies have revealed clear-cut differences between conscious and unconscious conditions during wakefulness, sleep, anesthesia, and severe brain injury. When subjects are conscious (i.e., they have any kind of experience, like seeing an image or having a thought), TMS (transcranial magnetic stimulation) triggers a complex response made of recurrent waves of phase-locked activity.....during early NREM sleep the slow-wave-like response evoked by a cortical perturbation is associated with the occurrence of a cortical down-state...Interestingly, after the down-state cortical activity resumes to wakefulness-like levels, but the phase-locking to the stimulus is lost, indicative of a break in the cause–effect chain...Cortical bistability, as reflected in the loss of phase-locking to a stimulus, leads to a breakdown in the ability of the cortex to integrate information
https://www.nature.com/articles/srep30932
Not all aspects of deep sleep because meditative posture is being maintained
... But the most significant difference is that the body appears to move into a state analogous to many, but not all, aspects of deep sleep, while consciousness remains responsive and alert.
https://journals.physiology.org/doi/full/10.1152/physiologyonline.1998.13.3.149#:~:text=In%20the%20hypometabolic%20state%20induced,is%20also%20decreased%20vascular%20resistance%2C
I spent many years studying Buddhism. I found myself bouncing from one Buddhist school to another. Regardless of which Buddhist school I was looking at, I inevitably found myself involved in discussions of Buddhist hermeneutics – the branch of knowledge that deals with the interpretation of historical literary texts.
Keren Arbel is a Buddhist scholar who recently published a book that challenges our usual approach to the study and attainment of the ‘jhanas’. Keren discusses the jhanas from 2 different prospective - Theravāda commentarial tradition vs the Pali Nikayas. Keren views the difference between these 2 different views of the jhanas as so significant that she goes as far to suggest they may represent and describe totally different experiences.
“What this study does challenge, however, is the assumption that Theravāda commentarial literature refers to the same jhānas as the Nikāyas. The question is, can we look at the jhānas, as they are described in the Nikāyas, with fresh eyes, not conditioned by later interpretations?... Yet, what I am suggesting is that we should be open to the possibility that these two textual corpuses – the Nikāyas and the Theravāda commentarial tradition – might be talking about two different types of experiences brought about by two different types of practices." - Early Buddhist Meditation: The Four Jhanas as the Actualization of Insight (Routledge Critical Studies in Buddhism) 1st Edition http://kerenarbel.com/en/
This incongruity arises because as she puts it
“...every commentary is a product of a certain historical, spiritual and intellectual context; as such, each commentary expresses specific understanding and views. That is, every commentator is rooted in a specific milieu and expresses different interests. The Theravāda commentarial tradition is no exception. It was written in a different context and milieu than the Nikāyas and expresses views and concerns relevant to that point of time and specific understanding of Buddhist practice.”
Leigh Brasington also reminds us
Also, please remember: this is just one person’s understanding of the jhānas. There are many more interpretations out there. Furthermore, my understanding of the jhānas has changed over time. Had I written this book five years earlier, it would be quite different. Nothing stays the same; everything in the universe is in flux—especially human ideas and understanding. Brasington, Leigh. Right Concentration: A Practical Guide to the Jhanas (pp. 160-162). Shambhala. Kindle Edition.
So the basic principles and how they are applied may vary considerably from one culture to the next and from one time period to another. If there can be that much variation between a practice based on the Theravāda commentarial tradition vs a practice based on the Pali Nikāyas, then how much change could have occurred between the time of the Nikāyas to the present day? Perhaps the experience of the jhanas is different today and maybe we should be looking at the jhanas differently than did the Nikayas or Theravadens.
Our cortex is still developing throughout puberty and our prefrontal areas are still developing connections well into our twenties. The way our cortex is ultimately wired and the way our senses become mapped to our external world is affected greatly by the culture in which we develop and the language of that culture. So a practice that was effective a thousand years ago may not work the same way for the modern brain. I see this as why Buddhism, as well as other religions, manifested in so many different ways as it spread from one culture to another. The connections of the brains of each different culture, ideology and language are all a little bit different, with significant ramifications for the type of practice that is effective for each culture.
Increasingly, neuroscientists are finding evidence of functional differences in brain activity and architecture between cultural groups, occupations, and individuals with different skill sets. The implication for neuroanthropology is obvious: forms of enculturation, social norms, training regimens, ritual, and patterns of experience shape how our brains work and are structured. But the predominant reason that culture becomes embodied, even though many anthropologists overlook it, is that neuroanatomy inherently makes experience material. Without material change in the brain, learning, memory, maturation, and even trauma could not happen. Neural systems adapt through long-term refinement and remodeling, which leads to deep enculturation. Through systematic change in the nervous system, the human body learns to orchestrate itself as well as it eventually does. Cultural concepts and meanings become anatomy.
https://neuroanthropology.net/2009/10/08/the-encultured-brain-why-neuroanthropology-why-now/
At the same time I was studying Buddhism, I was also studying the neurosciences and how our brain goes about creating our conscious experience of reality. As you can see from my discussions, I came to view the cortex as the single most important part of the human brain in creating our uniquely human experience, and the part of the brain that is most important in separating us from other primates.
My relationship with Buddhism changed dramatically when I came upon this definition of Nirvana.
Nirvana is defined as the coming to rest of the manifold of named things. - Chandrakirti: Lucid Exposition of the Middle Way
This was a definition I could really sink my teeth into. The part of our brain that names things is the cortex. This definition of nirvana suggested that it was possible to stop the activity of our cortex. It was possible for our awareness to experience reality without the process of naming automatically occurring. The primary function of the cortex is to orchestrate the complex movements that humans engage in during their daily life. This involves inhibiting some movements and adding fine motor control to others. For example the act of human speech involves the manipulation of the human voicebox and our breathing so that speech and breathing can occur concurrently. So if the cortex was involved in the control of our movements, then the way to stop the cortex would be to stop moving, as we do when we go to bed and sleep.
So I began to meditate with the sole objective of not moving. This lead to this experience, which I can still experience in my meditations.
After I had been sitting for some time in a meditative posture, I became aware of the sound of a great river flowing through my ears. My breath became a mighty wind rushing through the caves of my sinuses, in and out like the tide of an unspeakable ocean. Suddenly my eyes rolled over in my head. I was amused and startled because I realized my eyes were not shaped like circular globes but rather like elongated footballs, so they plopped over like a misshapen wheel. The physical coherence of my body dissolved and I became an unlimited amalgamation of countless shimmering orbs/clouds of energy, each emanating a pure white light. This light radiated boundless joy and compassion. The source of the light was a small crystal at the center of each orb. Each crystal vibrated with a unique tone or musical note and together they became what I can only describe as a heavenly symphony. This light radiated boundless joy and compassion. Each breath I took was more pleasurable than anything I had ever experienced. It seemed as each breath brought more pleasure then the sum of all my experiences up to then. The breath flowed through my body like an electrical river of pure energy and joy. I could feel the energy flow in my arms as it crossed over the energy flow in my legs. A small breath would bring this river just to the tips of my fingers, and a large breath would overflow my body with radiant energy. I opened my eyes and saw an unusual and amusing looking creature seated before me, with most of its body wrapped in colorful fabric. There was a sprout of hair at the top and it was making a birdlike chirping sound. I searched the features of this mostly hairless creatures and found the noise was emanating from a small slit in the creatures flesh. Although the noises were meaningless I could see into the creatures mind and knew its thoughts. I looked at a book on the table before me and the words on the cover were only lines, angles and curves and I saw no meaning in them. As this was happening feelings of great joy and compassion flowed through my body. After some time of abiding in this state the world of names and words returned and I saw the creature as my wife and I could read the written words again.
I believe this meditative experience arose as my awareness became separated from the cortical/thalamic complex. However it is not the only kind of meditative experience I have. I also have 'dreamwalking, shamanistic' experiences, where my awareness is still entangled with my cortex, but the activity of my cortex is no longer ‘locked’ to external stimulus.
However, having these type of meditative experiences has lead me to question the efficacy of putting a substantial part of our energy into the maintenance of a daily meditation practice. The Buddha did not recommend this for anyone other than those involved in the monastic lifestyle. When we do so in the West I believe we are at risk of altering the cortical connections we have developed over the period of our development that are ultimately necessary for navigating the unique environment of the modern cityscape. We are also habituating our brain and body into sitting in the meditative posture, making the transcendent states that can arise in meditation more difficult to achieve.
I do not believe our brains are the same as someone who practiced a thousand years ago, and what worked then may not have the same effect today. I believe we should save our deep meditation practice for times when we can devote several hours to our practice, so that when the fruits of meditation arise we have the time to let go and to let what may arise take its natural course. Our daily practice should involve more of the practical aspects of dharma such as study, devotional practices, investigation of the unreliably of our sensory experience and service to others. I feel we are putting way to much energy into discussions revolving around aspects of Buddhist hermeneutics.
Keren Arbel in a youtube discussion, which unfortunately is no longer available, on ‘The 7 factors of Awakening’ she discussed the importance of the 'mindfullness approach'. She views this as the most important factor. She states that the Buddha taught that developing mindfulness leads to investigation. When investigation develops, we have ‘energy’. When the mind investigates into the nature of experience now, in this moment, there is a lot of energy, and when we have energy then we also have joy. This investigation we can do every moment and we don’t need to sit on a cushion for that. She says it is very joyful to see into the nature of experience, even if that particular experience is painful.
If I had to recommend anyone's approach to practice and meditation, it would be Thich Nhat Hanh's. I believe our daily meditation's, if we are Buddhist, should involve the devotional/metta aspects of practice, where we let go of our sense of self and dedicate our energies towards the service of others, generosity and engaging in an investigative process arising from mindfulness that is dedicated towards understanding the nature of suffering and its relationship to the social and cultural environment in which we find ourselves. Deep meditation practice should be saved for those times when we have created the proper environment and conditions, so that if the fruits of our meditation arise, we can let these meditative perceptions unfold without constraint, without having to interrupt them to go pick up the kids.
Progress on the cushion is directly correlated with how much we have learned to "Care, Collaborate and Connect" with our world when we are off the cushion.
https://medicalxpress.com/news/2020-12-mental-health-coping-myth.html
As most meditations involve not moving, the 'brain states' that I elude to are not dependant on the type of meditation but only on that fact we have remained still long enough to let the natural physiological tendencies of our body/brain take their course. I believe we are born with all the tools we need and that our spiritual journey is more a process of finding what is there already... more of a letting go than an adding to. More of a negation of what has been added and a return to a childlike state of potentiality and emptiness.
If we have some understanding of what may happen and why, then it is likely we will have the equanimity to continue to stay with our meditation and we will be able to let what may arise continue unabated. This may also explain the universality of the spiritual/religious experience that seems to have been a part of the human reality throughout history . The physiological relationships between cortical and non cortical awareness are not dependant on the time and place that a human was born, or the belief system that humans may of held. Also there are many plants and fungi that can also alter the normal relationship between cortical and non-cortical awareness, allowing our awareness to move unheeded into different areas of our brain and body. It is apparent that humans were aware of these different substances and these different states of awareness very early in our history, which also facilitated a wide variety of shamanistic experiences. I don't believe these substances are necessary, as I believe there are many different keys that are capable of unlocking the doorway to the transcendent. Nor, on the other hand, should the efficacy of these substances be ignored.
Additional Resources: These titles represent current up to date research and in no way can be considered pseudoscience or popular science.
Meanwhile the scientific study of mental processes has revealed that consciousness is not necessary for rational thought. Inferences can be drawn and decisions made without awareness. This raises a new problem for our understanding of consciousness. Descartes and his contemporaries took it for granted that consciousness was necessary for rational thought and willed, as opposed to automatic, behavior. If not the basis of rational thought, what is the function of consciousness? (p. 12). Kindle Edition.
https://www.wiley.com/en-ca/The+Blackwell+Companion+to+Consciousness%2C+2nd+Edition-p-9780470674062?fbclid=IwAR2PNeqZSsI0-QEt6kZnJAfeTpJgsIhhjNEiunwURIrW242U6IdRRNdOT3M
2 books concerning how 'self' arises in the brain...
Biological theorists who seek to explain consciousness have gotten stuck in the cerebral cortex, citing it as the situs of consciousness, i.e., where consciousness arises. I will challenge this notion and, accordingly, offer a new theory of how we become conscious during various natural or induced states in which we are unconscious. Pfaff, Donald. How Brain Arousal Mechanisms Work (Kindle Locations 107-110). Cambridge University Press. Kindle Edition. University Press.
https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2018/07/180723143007.htm?fbclid=IwAR0H8Nvkjx7_IqMykywOdpWzRR1RERVSKwYsbcoP2oH3m5Bn0AlZ273IBog
https://www.cambridge.org/core/books/how-brain-arousal-mechanisms-work/4078E3DFD96FAF9B58FFBCD772E08CDD?fbclid=IwAR0rISvpuAvhC2IB3uP2c4BVY9lGQ7-I8tIdJVPIMliH1Ce6iMfjIMGAGkM
But, even though it operates subliminally, as we begin to understand the cerebellar self, we also start to appreciate how important it is to our perception of our surroundings, how we move, and even the implicit sense of agency we have in our interactions with the world. Montgomery, John. Evolution of the Cerebellar Sense of Self (p. 2). OUP Oxford. Kindle Edition.
https://academic.oup.com/book/9812?login=false&fbclid=IwAR2lTL_mvhAQKhTY5WEzMjJ-cXizMriEqNjzJgC1CVUWOh6PSZ4B_zDQP50
In these books you will be introduced to parts of our brain that perform different functions. Once we understand what these parts of the brain are, what they look like and where they are situated, and what function they perform we can direct our awareness to these different parts of the brain during our meditation and gradually learn to recognize their activity. Gradually we can gain some conscious control over these different parts of our brain. It is interesting that "mindfulness" originates from the Pali word sati. According to Bryan Levman writing in the Journal of the Oxford Centre for Buddhist Studies, "the word sati incorporates the meaning of 'memory' and 'remembrance'.
Samatha meditation develops samadhi or concentration by focusing attention. Samatha would correlate with the cerebral cortex and its hemispheres. Mindfullness moves our awareness down into our limbic system and the parts of our brain related to memory and remembrance, like the hippocampus, hypothalamus. Our awareness can go still deeper into structures in our midbrain and brainstem...and we get into the realms of Vipassana. Plasticity is sited as proof that meditation is doing something positive for our brain. However, the brain has developed the connections it has over our period of development to optimize the way different parts of our brain our connected. We do not want to be changing these connections between different parts of our brain unless we are in a very controlled environment like in a monastery. For example if we alter the connections between cerebellum and cortex then we can experience schizophrenic and dissociative symptoms. The book on the cerebellum discusses this. Once these connections are disrupted, for some people the cortex will now be experienced as 'other' rather than self which is why some people will hear voices and see things as really there which are arising only in their cortex like a dream. If we change our connections between different areas of our brain we make it much more difficult for our awareness to move freely throughout our brain...and ultimately into the Vipassana or 'insight' areas of the midbrain and brainstem.
https://acamh.onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/full/10.1111/camh.12600?fbclid=IwAR0pXTXMBqhaepmiGCavjXWjnTjsK_KuvgEbVjk8CBkHBm_uv-A1XNEbVoo
submitted by FunnyWay4369 to Buddhism_for_Everyone [link] [comments]

2024.05.24 19:57 Leo_Rivers The Buddha Creates a Jewel Walk

The Buddha Creates a Jewel Walk
I have never seen a painting or a line drawing done of Buddha creating the famous Jewel Walk with which he begins to tell the story of the previous Buddha's who gave a prediction of buddhahood to him. If you've ever seen a picture of this phenomena llet me know. I find it difficult to really imagine it. thank you
[The Buddha creates and passes up and down a jewel Walk in the heavens to prepare to relate the tales of the 24 Buddhas preceeding him and his own descent into the womb.]
[33] When the teacher had performed the Marvel of the Double In the sky And had surveyed the mental character of the populace, being anxious to teach them a suitable teaching of Dhamma as he walked up and down, he created the Jewel Walk consisting of all the jewels and extending over the 10,000 World-Systems.
Verse 5: Come, I will display the unsurpassed power of a Buddha. In the Zenith I will create a walk adorned with jewels!
Verse 11 :The leader of the world created a well-wrought walk with all the jewels.
Verse 12: In the 10 000 World System he displayed like a course of pillars on (each) supreme mountain Sineru, Walks made of jewels.
13 The Conqueror created a Walk spanning the 10,000. All golden were the sides of that Walk which was made of jewels.
Verse 14: The junction of (each pair of) beams were symmetrical The floorboards covered with gold all golden were the railings Well-fashioned on both sides (of the Walk).
Verse 15 : Strewn over with sand (consisting) of jewels and pearls, fashioned and made of jewels it [the Walk] illuminated all the quarters like him of the hundred rays when he has written risen.
Verse 16: Walking up and down in that, him of the 32 glorious marks, Self-Awakened one, Conqueror, shining, walked up and down in the Walk.
Verse 17: All the divas gathered together showered down on the walk diva-like mandarava flowers, lotuses, flowers of the coral tree.
Verse 20 : Heavenly musicians, demons together with the divas, nagas, fairy birds, and birdmen besides saw that one who was compassionate for the world's welfare like the orb of the Moon high aloft in the zenith.
Verse 31: They sent fourth chants in the air snd down the airy paths they've played on drums on seeing the wonder in the Zenith.
Verse 43: Even as he was standing on the Vulture Peak, Sāriputta of great wisdom, proficient in concentration and meditation, saw the leader of the world.
Verse 44 He surveyed the bull of a man who was like a king of the Sala trees in full bloom, like the moon in the heavens, like the sun at midday.
Verse 45: He saw the wise one, the leader who was blazing like a tree of lamps, like the newly risen sun, illuminated by a halo extending for a fathom.
Verse 48: Come, all of us will go, we will question the Conqueror, when we have seen the leader of the world we will dispel doubt. [Ed. Relate the story Of the 24 Previous Buddhas.]
Verse 64: These are the four incalculables of which the extent is not known: The aggregation of beings, and space, and the infinite world-spheres, and the immeasurable knowledge of a Buddha. It is impossible to ascertain these.
[ Here the Buddha begins the recitation of his own Descent from Tusita and into the womb of his mother and the Tales of the 24 Buddhas.]
From The Buddhavamsa, The Minor Anthologies - Volume Three, Sacred Books of the Buddhists Volume 31, Horner I.B. [translator], Pali Text Society, Bristol, 2013
PS: Metteyya has a cameo at the end!
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2024.05.24 16:23 Little_BlueBirdy The Enigma of Samael and Lilith: A Tale of Darkness and Desire

The Enigma of Samael and Lilith: A Tale of Darkness and Desire
Let’s delve into the mystical and intriguing world of Samael and Lilith, where ancient legends intertwine with cosmic forces. This is a combination of written texts, mythology and my thoughts. It Does Not and is not meant as a hack against any God or any Religion. I have so many questions about “the fall from grace” as there is so many ancient texts and philosophical musings I’d like to think there are two sides to every story and in all honesty we’ve only heard one.
In the twilight hours, when the veil between realms grows thin, Samael and Lilith emerge from the shadows. Their story echoes through forgotten scrolls, whispered by sages and seers who dared to glimpse beyond the mundane.
Samael, once an angelic luminary, fell from grace like a comet trailing fire. His descent was not a mere stumble; it was a cosmic rebellion. The Talmudic scholars whispered that his wings bore the weight of forbidden knowledge—the kind that scorches the soul and blinds the eyes. His name, etched in celestial script, meant “Venom of God.” But was he truly venomous, or merely misunderstood?
Lilith, on the other hand, danced on the edge of existence. She was not Adam’s obedient rib, but a wild spirit molded from the same clay. When Lilith spread her wings, they shimmered like moonlit silk, and her eyes held secrets older than time. She refused to bow to Adam’s dominion, craving autonomy and passion. Her name echoed through the winds, whispered by owls and rustling leaves.
Samael and Lilith met at the crossroads of eternity. Their eyes locked—a cosmic collision of desire and defiance. He, with eyes like fractured stars, and she, with lips that tasted of forbidden fruit. Their union defied the celestial order, for angels and demons were never meant to intertwine.
Samael, the Fallen Seraph, cradled Lilith in his arms. Their love was a tempest—a whirlwind of shadow and flame. Together, they wove spells that defied gravity, bending time and space. Their kisses tasted of forbidden pomegranates, and their laughter echoed through the astral planes.
In the heart of the abyss, Samael and Lilith forged their dominion—the Realm of Impurity. Here, twisted trees bore fruit that whispered secrets to those who dared to listen. Rivers flowed with ink-black currents, and the moon hung low, casting elongated shadows.
In this realm, Samael’s agents—the Nephilim—wore crowns of thorns. They whispered malevolence into the ears of mortals, sowing discord and temptation. Lilith, her wings unfurled, danced with serpents and wove spells that blurred the boundaries between pleasure and pain.
But every tale has its balance. For every shadow, there must be light. As Samael reveled in his dark sovereignty, a celestial council convened. They whispered of redemption, of a cosmic equation that yearned for equilibrium.
And so, Samael’s redemption lay in the eyes of a mortal—a seeker of truth, a dreamer who glimpsed the fractured heavens. Lilith, torn between love and rebellion, faced a choice: to embrace her own divinity or fade into myth.
As the Talmudic period waned, the veil between worlds grew thinner. Samael and Lilith, their love immortalized in forbidden texts, awaited their reckoning. Would they remain eternal adversaries, or would their love ignite a cosmic revolution?
Perhaps, dear reader, you hold the key—the forgotten incantation, the lost sigil. When the moon hangs low and the owls call, close your eyes and whisper their names. Samael. Lilith. Let their story unravel within you, for in their union lies the essence of creation and destruction—the dance of light and shadow.
This tale weaves together ancient myths, artistic license, and cosmic musings. The truth, as always, lies somewhere between the lines.
submitted by Little_BlueBirdy to StrikeAtPsyche [link] [comments]

2024.05.24 07:42 No-Quality-2644 Yūrei Chronicles

YŪREI CHRONICLES [ 幽霊クロニクルズ ]
Tales of Japanese Horror [ 日本のホラーの物語 ]
By: Seph Cruz [ 投稿者: セフ・クルーズ ]
CONTENTS [ コンテンツ ]
Preface [ はじめに ]
Chapter 1: The Cursed Scroll [ 第 1 章: 呪われた巻物 ]
Chapter 2: The Shrine in the Shadows [ 第 2 章: 影の神殿 ]
Chapter 3: The Haunting of the Geisha [ 第 3 章: 芸者の幽霊 ]
Chapter 4: The Onryo's Revenge [ 第 4 章: 怨霊の復讐 ]
Chapter 5: The Dollmaker's Curse [ 第 5 章: 人形師の呪い ]
Chapter 6: The Shadow in the Forest [ 第 6 章: 森の影 ] Chapter 7: The Haunting of the Yūrei Inn [ 第 7 章: 幽霊旅館の幽霊 ]
Chapter 8: The Curse of the Haunted Kimono [ 第 8 章: 幽霊着物の呪い ]
Chapter 9: The Mirror's Malevolence [ 第 9 章: 鏡の悪意 ]
Chapter 10: The Bridge to the Beyond [ 第 10 章: 彼方への架け橋 ]
 "Yūrei Chronicles: Tales of Japanese Horror"
Chapter 1: "The Cursed Scroll"
In the heart of Kyoto, where history whispered through the ancient streets, there existed an antique bookstore known only to those who sought the rarest of tomes. Nestled among centuries-old texts and dusty manuscripts, a forbidden scroll lay hidden, waiting for an unwitting soul to stumble upon its chilling secrets.
Chapter 1: "The Cursed Scroll"
The quaint, dimly lit bookstore was a treasure trove of the past. Intricate calligraphy adorned scrolls, while faded ink whispered stories of long-forgotten samurai and mystical creatures. Among these relics of history, one scroll remained elusive, concealed behind a glass case. Its dark, ornate cover bore no title, and its presence seemed to beckon.
Haruki, a young scholar with a fascination for the occult, visited the bookstore one rainy afternoon. His curiosity led him to inquire about the enigmatic scroll. The elderly shopkeeper, Mr. Tanaka, peered at him with a knowing look, cautioning him about the scroll's malevolent reputation.
"Many have sought to uncover its secrets," Mr. Tanaka said, his voice trembling with age, "but few have lived to tell the tale."
Haruki, undeterred by the ominous warning, insisted on examining the scroll. Mr. Tanaka, sensing the scholar's determination, reluctantly unlocked the glass case. As Haruki unrolled the ancient parchment, he saw that it was filled with intricate symbols and incantations, written in a language he could barely comprehend.
For days, Haruki delved into the scroll's mysteries. His sleepless nights were filled with whispers from unseen forces, and chilling drafts seemed to haunt his small apartment. Yet, he pressed on, believing that the scroll held untold knowledge and power.
One fateful night, as a full moon cast eerie shadows across his cluttered study, Haruki recited an incantation from the scroll. The room grew icy cold, and an otherworldly presence enveloped him. A mournful wail echoed through the room, and Haruki's heart raced as he beheld the apparition before him.
A yūrei, its long, disheveled hair obscuring its gaunt face, hovered in the air, its eyes filled with anguish and rage. It reached out bony, pale fingers toward Haruki, its spectral form translucent yet undeniably real.
In that moment, Haruki realized the scroll's true nature – a curse that summoned vengeful spirits to torment the living. He had unwittingly invited the yūrei into his world, and now, it sought retribution for its suffering.
The scholar's life turned into a nightmare as the vengeful spirit haunted his every waking moment. His research became an obsession to find a way to pacify the yūrei and lift the curse. With each passing day, Haruki's health deteriorated, his body and mind succumbing to the relentless torment.
Desperate, he sought the guidance of a renowned exorcist, who revealed a grim truth. The only way to break the curse was to discover the scroll's origins and offer the yūrei the peace it so desperately sought.
As Haruki ventured deeper into the scroll's history, he uncovered a tale of betrayal and tragedy that spanned centuries. With newfound knowledge and a heavy heart, he prepared to confront the vengeful yūrei and set things right.
In a chilling confrontation between the living and the dead, Haruki faced the spirit, offering it the closure it craved. As the yūrei dissipated into the ether, its mournful wail echoed one last time, fading into the night.
Haruki emerged from the ordeal forever changed, carrying the weight of the scroll's curse as a cautionary tale. The forbidden knowledge he had sought had come at a great cost, a reminder that some mysteries should remain hidden, and some curses should never be invoked.
As the sun rose over Kyoto, the antique bookstore remained shrouded in an eerie silence, and the cursed scroll returned to its cryptic slumber, waiting for the next unwitting soul to unlock its dreadful secrets.
End of Chapter 1: "The Cursed Scroll"
Chapter 2: "The Shrine in the Shadows"
In the heart of a tranquil Japanese village, nestled among ancient forests, stood a centuries-old Shinto shrine, known to few but revered by all. This sacred place held an eerie secret, hidden in the shadows of its past.
Chapter 2: "The Shrine in the Shadows"
The village of Mizuki was picturesque, surrounded by dense woods and the whispers of rustling leaves. Its most treasured gem was the Shōrin Shrine, a sanctuary dedicated to the worship of the kami, where the villagers paid homage with heartfelt prayers and offerings.
On a bright spring morning, the Hayashi family moved into a charming house near the shrine. Yuko, a spirited young girl with inquisitive eyes, was enchanted by the quaint beauty of Mizuki and the mystique of the Shōrin Shrine. Her parents, Masato and Yuki, hoped the peaceful village would offer respite from the bustling city.
Their first evening in Mizuki was serene, and the family felt blessed to live in such an idyllic place. As night descended, they heard a faint melody echoing through the forest—a haunting tune played on a traditional shamisen. Yuko, drawn by curiosity, followed the eerie melody to the shrine.
At the shrine's entrance, she saw a flicker of movement among the trees and bushes. As her eyes adjusted to the dim moonlight, she gasped in awe and terror. There, bathed in an ethereal glow, stood a beautiful woman dressed in a white kimono, her long hair cascading like an ebony waterfall.
The woman's face bore an expression of immense sorrow, and her eyes seemed to pierce Yuko's very soul. In her delicate, spectral hands, she held a shamisen, its strings plucked by fingers that had long since turned to mist.
"Who are you?" Yuko asked, her voice quivering.
The apparition gazed at Yuko with an inscrutable sadness and whispered, "My name is Hana. I have been bound to this shrine for centuries, waiting for someone to hear my song."
Hana's story unraveled like a tragic tapestry before Yuko. She had once been a young woman in love with a humble fisherman from Mizuki. Their love was forbidden, and when their secret was discovered, they met a tragic end at the hands of the villagers.
As she spoke, the melody of her shamisen became more mournful, and the trees seemed to weep in sympathy. Hana's spirit, bound to the shrine, could only find solace by sharing her story with the living.
Yuko, moved by Hana's tale, felt a deep connection to the ghostly figure. She promised to help Hana find peace and bring her story to light. Together, they would uncover the truth behind the tragic love story that had ensnared the shrine for centuries.
As Yuko delved into the village's history, she uncovered hidden documents and ancient scrolls that confirmed Hana's story. The injustice done to Hana and her beloved was a blot on the village's past, a truth that had been concealed for generations.
With newfound determination, Yuko rallied the villagers to acknowledge the village's dark history and to seek forgiveness for the sins of the past. In a moving ceremony at the Shōrin Shrine, the villagers offered their prayers, and Hana's spirit was finally set free.
As the first rays of dawn bathed Mizuki in golden light, Hana's ethereal form dissolved into a wisp of gratitude and serenity. The shrine, once shadowed by sorrow, now radiated with newfound peace.
"The Shrine in the Shadows" became a tale passed down through generations, a reminder that love and forgiveness could transcend even the darkest of curses. Mizuki continued to flourish, its shrine standing as a testament to the enduring power of redemption.
End of Chapter 2: "The Shrine in the Shadows"
Chapter 3: "The Haunting of the Geisha"
In the vibrant streets of 19th-century Tokyo, beneath the shimmering lanterns and behind the delicate allure of geisha, a haunting presence lurked—a presence that would forever change the life of a celebrated geisha named Kaede.
Chapter 3: "The Haunting of the Geisha"
In the heart of Tokyo's historic Yoshiwara district, Kaede was renowned as one of the most captivating and skilled geisha. Her beauty was ethereal, her dances mesmerizing, and her laughter like the tinkling of wind chimes. But beneath her porcelain makeup and the grace of her performances lay a heart heavy with secrets.
One cool autumn evening, as the lanterns cast their warm glow on the district, a newcomer arrived at the teahouse where Kaede performed. His name was Kaito, a handsome and enigmatic man with piercing eyes that seemed to see beyond the facade of the geisha. Kaede's heart quickened as their eyes met, and she felt a connection she had never experienced before.
As weeks turned into months, Kaede and Kaito's bond deepened, their love blossoming like the cherry blossoms in spring. But their love was a forbidden one, as Kaito was a samurai, and their worlds were as different as night and day.
One fateful night, Kaito revealed a dangerous secret to Kaede—he was involved in a plot against a powerful daimyo who ruled with cruelty and oppression. Kaito believed that by exposing the daimyo's corruption, he could bring justice to the people. He asked for Kaede's assistance in gathering information from the teahouse's influential patrons.
Reluctantly, Kaede agreed, and together, they embarked on a treacherous path filled with deceit and danger. As the days passed, they uncovered dark secrets that could expose the daimyo's crimes. However, their actions did not go unnoticed.
One evening, as Kaede performed for a gathering of influential men, a sinister figure appeared in the shadows. It was the vengeful spirit of a geisha named Akiko, who had perished in Yoshiwara under tragic circumstances. Her ghostly form was veiled in a blood-red kimono, and her eyes burned with malevolence.
Akiko's haunting began subtly—a chill in the air, whispers of despair, and a feeling of dread that hung over the teahouse like a shroud. Kaede, sensing the supernatural presence, knew that they had awakened a vengeful spirit.
Desperate to protect Kaede, Kaito sought the guidance of a local exorcist, who revealed the tragic story of Akiko. She had been a geisha in love with a samurai, but their forbidden love had led to betrayal and death. Her restless spirit sought vengeance on those who dared to love across societal boundaries.
With the exorcist's help, Kaito and Kaede embarked on a perilous journey to confront Akiko's spirit and offer her the peace she so desperately sought. In a climactic showdown, they faced the vengeful geisha, revealing the truth behind her betrayal and death.
As the first light of dawn bathed the Yoshiwara district, Akiko's spirit dissipated, her eyes filled with sorrow and resignation. The curse she had cast upon the teahouse lifted, and peace returned to the district.
Kaede and Kaito's love story continued, forever marked by the supernatural forces they had encountered. The teahouse thrived once more, its lanterns casting their warm glow over the enchanting district, where love knew no boundaries and forgiveness transcended even death.
"The Haunting of the Geisha" became a legend whispered among geisha in Yoshiwara, a testament to the enduring power of love and the consequences of forbidden desires in the mysterious world of Edo-era Tokyo.
End of Chapter 3: "The Haunting of the Geisha"
Chapter 4: "The Onryo's Revenge"
In the heart of a decaying city, where abandoned buildings stood as silent witnesses to forgotten tragedies, a group of urban explorers would stumble upon a place where the restless dead held their sinister dominion.
Chapter 4: "The Onryo's Revenge"
The city of Kurayami had fallen into disrepair, its once-thriving industries crumbling, and its streets echoing with the memories of better days. Among its many derelict structures was the forsaken Kurayami Hospital, a place whispered about only in fearful tales.
Rumors spoke of a curse that had befallen the hospital after a gruesome series of medical experiments in the early 20th century. Patients had been subjected to horrific procedures, and their agonized cries still seemed to reverberate through the corridors.
A group of urban explorers, lured by the thrill of the forbidden and the allure of the macabre, set their sights on Kurayami Hospital. Among them was Hiroshi, the group's leader, and Yumi, a budding photographer with an affinity for capturing the eerie beauty of abandoned places.
As the explorers entered the hospital's crumbling entrance, they were greeted by the musty scent of decay and the eerie silence of long-abandoned hallways. Shadows danced in the dim light as they ventured deeper into the forsaken building, their footsteps echoing like distant whispers.
The group's excitement turned to unease as they encountered signs of the hospital's dark past—rusty surgical instruments, bloodstained gurneys, and cryptic medical notes. Yumi's camera captured it all, each photograph revealing more about the hospital's gruesome history.
As night fell, the explorers gathered in the hospital's decrepit lobby, their flashlights casting trembling beams into the darkness. It was then that they heard it—a faint, mournful wail, like the keening of a soul in torment.
Hiroshi, the group's fearless leader, brushed off their concerns, attributing the sound to the wind or their imagination. But the cries grew louder and more anguished, echoing through the halls.
The group became separated as they navigated the labyrinthine corridors. Yumi, camera in hand, wandered into the hospital's disused psychiatric ward. There, in a shadowed corner, she saw her camera's flash reveal a horrifying apparition—an onryo, a vengeful spirit with long, disheveled hair and eyes filled with hatred.
The onryo's spectral form contorted with rage as it approached Yumi. Its icy fingers reached out, and she felt an otherworldly coldness pierce her very soul. She knew that this was the spirit of a patient who had suffered unimaginable horrors in the hospital.
As Yumi's companions searched for her, they stumbled upon the onryo's lair and witnessed the terrifying encounter. In a desperate bid to save Yumi, they searched for a way to pacify the vengeful spirit.
Through a combination of research and communication with a local historian, they learned the full extent of the hospital's atrocities. Armed with this knowledge, they returned to the onryo's domain to confront the spirit and offer it the peace it had been denied for so long.
In a climactic showdown, the group faced the onryo, revealing the hospital's dark secrets and acknowledging the suffering of the tormented souls within. With profound remorse, they begged for forgiveness on behalf of those who had perpetrated the atrocities.
As the first rays of dawn broke over Kurayami, the onryo's anguished wails transformed into a mournful sigh. The spirit, its wrath finally quelled, dissipated into the ether, leaving behind a sense of profound sadness and closure.
The group of urban explorers emerged from Kurayami Hospital, forever changed by their encounter with the supernatural. They had confronted the past and offered redemption to the restless dead, leaving the decaying city with a newfound sense of hope.
"The Onryo's Revenge" became a cautionary tale among urban explorers, a reminder that some places are best left undisturbed, and that the past, no matter how dark, can be confronted and reconciled.
End of Chapter 4: "The Onryo's Revenge"
Chapter 5: "The Dollmaker's Curse"
In a remote mountain village, nestled among mist-shrouded peaks, a master dollmaker crafted exquisite creations that captured the hearts of collectors worldwide. Yet, within her secluded workshop, a malevolent force lurked—one that would ensnare a curious journalist in a nightmarish world of living dolls and dark secrets.
Chapter 5: "The Dollmaker's Curse"
Hidden away in the secluded village of Ichiban, known only to those who ventured deep into the mountains, lived a master dollmaker named Ai. Her dolls were celebrated for their lifelike beauty and craftsmanship, with collectors from distant lands coveting her creations.
One brisk autumn morning, a journalist named Keiko received a cryptic letter from a source in Ichiban, hinting at a sinister mystery surrounding Ai's dolls. Intrigued by the enigmatic message, Keiko embarked on a journey to the remote village, determined to uncover the truth.
Ichiban was a place untouched by time, its cobblestone streets winding through dense forests and past centuries-old homes. The village exuded an eerie tranquility, and the locals spoke in hushed tones about Ai's dolls, rumored to be infused with a piece of the human soul.
Upon reaching Ai's workshop, Keiko was greeted by the dollmaker herself, a woman of grace and poise. The workshop was a treasure trove of exquisite dolls, their eyes seeming to follow Keiko's every move. Among them, a particular doll known as Hikari stood out—a hauntingly beautiful creation with ebony hair and obsidian eyes.
As Keiko delved deeper into the village's mysteries, she discovered that Hikari was believed to house the soul of a deceased child, a belief held by both Ai and the villagers. The doll's unsettling presence and the uncanny resemblance it bore to a girl named Mei, who had died tragically years ago, sent shivers down Keiko's spine.
Keiko's nights in Ichiban were filled with restless dreams of porcelain dolls that came to life. In these dreams, Hikari beckoned her to uncover the truth behind the dollmaker's creations. Guided by an inexplicable compulsion, Keiko embarked on a quest to unearth the dark secrets hidden within Ai's workshop.
As Keiko investigated further, she uncovered Ai's own tragic past—a story of unrequited love, loss, and a desperate desire to capture the essence of the human soul in her dolls. With each revelation, the line between the living and the lifeless blurred, and Keiko felt herself becoming entangled in a nightmarish world.
The dolls that had once been works of art now seemed to harbor malevolence. They moved of their own accord, their eyes filled with an eerie, lifelike intensity. Keiko realized that Ai's obsession had bound her to a sinister force, and her creations hungered for more than just existence.
In a chilling climax, Keiko confronted Ai and the curse that had gripped her creations. Together, they sought to break the curse's hold and release the trapped souls within the dolls.
As the moon hung low in the night sky, Ai performed a solemn ritual, guided by the spirit of Mei, whose essence had been captured in Hikari. The dolls, imbued with a restless energy, gathered around, their haunting eyes watching as the curse was lifted.
With a mournful sigh, the dolls' porcelain features softened, and their malevolence dissipated. The spirit of Mei was set free, and the dolls became lifeless once more, their beauty preserved in eternal stillness.
Ichiban returned to its peaceful slumber, and Keiko departed with a newfound appreciation for the power of art and the depths of human longing. The village's haunting tale of the dollmaker's curse served as a reminder that some obsessions could lead to the creation of something far more sinister than art itself.
End of Chapter 5: "The Dollmaker's Curse"
Chapter 6: "The Shadow in the Forest"
In a land steeped in history and tradition, the Aokigahara Forest, known as the "Suicide Forest," concealed a dark secret. Within its dense, ancient foliage, a group of hikers would embark on a journey that would lead them into the heart of a malevolent force.
Chapter 6: "The Shadow in the Forest"
Deep within the prefecture of Yamanashi, shrouded in a perpetual mist, lay the infamous Aokigahara Forest—an expanse of ancient woodland that held a dark reputation. Known as the "Suicide Forest," it had been a site of countless tragic deaths throughout the centuries.
A group of adventurous hikers, seeking to conquer the wilderness and challenge the forest's ominous legends, gathered on a chilly autumn morning. Among them was Akira, an experienced guide with a deep respect for the forest's history, and Yumi, a young woman in search of adventure and solace from her own troubled past.
The hikers ventured deep into the forest, their footsteps muffled by the thick blanket of moss and fallen leaves. The dense canopy above cast eerie shadows, and the trees seemed to whisper secrets of sorrow and despair.
As they trekked further into the woods, they began to notice strange occurrences—a disconcerting sense of being watched, distant whispers on the wind, and ghostly apparitions that flickered at the edge of their vision. Akira, the guide, attributed these phenomena to the forest's ominous reputation and urged the group to press on.
Yet, the forest's grip on their minds and senses tightened. Yumi, in particular, felt a strange connection to the haunting forces that seemed to lurk behind every tree. Inexplicable visions of tragedy and despair flashed before her eyes, and a sense of overwhelming dread enveloped her.
Night descended on the forest, and the hikers set up camp, their flickering campfire offering the only semblance of comfort in the oppressive darkness. It was then that Yumi encountered a spectral figure—a yūrei, her kimono tattered and her eyes empty voids.
The yūrei beckoned to Yumi, her voice a mournful echo. Unable to resist, Yumi followed the apparition into the depths of the forest, her companions unaware of her disappearance. The yūrei led her to a clearing where an ancient tree stood, its gnarled roots forming a grotesque face.
As Yumi approached the tree, she felt a malevolent presence—an ancient spirit of the forest itself. It spoke to her, revealing the tragic history of Aokigahara—the place where those who had lost hope sought refuge in death.
Yumi learned of the forest's vengeful guardian, a yūrei born of countless lost souls, whose suffering fueled its malevolence. It was the embodiment of the forest's sorrow, forever bound to torment those who ventured within.
Realizing that Yumi was now connected to the yūrei, her companions embarked on a desperate search to rescue her from the forest's clutches. With the guidance of Akira's knowledge and determination, they confronted the vengeful spirit, revealing the pain of their own pasts and the impact of their actions on the world around them.
As the first rays of dawn bathed Aokigahara in a pale light, the yūrei's malevolence waned, and its grip on Yumi loosened. With a final sigh, it dissipated into the morning mist, its haunting presence released from the forest.
Yumi was reunited with her companions, forever changed by her encounter with the malevolent spirit of Aokigahara. The forest's ominous reputation remained, a reminder of the darkness that could consume those who dared to venture too close to its heart.
"The Shadow in the Forest" served as a chilling testament to the mysteries of Aokigahara, where the past and the present intertwined, and the boundaries between life and death blurred beneath the ancient canopy.
End of Chapter 6: "The Shadow in the Forest"
Chapter 7: "The Haunting of the Yurei Inn"
In a remote village nestled among mist-covered mountains, a centuries-old inn held a sinister secret. When a weary traveler seeks refuge within its ancient walls, she becomes entangled in a web of supernatural mysteries that threaten to consume her soul.
Chapter 7: "The Haunting of the Yurei Inn"
The village of Okuyama was a hidden gem, nestled among towering peaks and blanketed in mist. Within this secluded haven stood the Yurei Inn, a centuries-old establishment steeped in history and whispered legends. Its age-old charm masked a sinister truth—a haunting presence that had plagued the inn for generations.
Amidst a dense fog, a lone traveler named Rei arrived in Okuyama, weary and seeking shelter from the elements. The Yurei Inn, with its rustic charm and flickering lanterns, seemed like the perfect refuge. Little did Rei know that her stay at the inn would unravel the mysteries hidden within its ancient walls.
Upon her arrival, Rei was greeted by the inn's elderly proprietress, Eiko, a woman whose weathered features and deep knowledge of the village's history hinted at a deeper connection to the inn's haunting past.
As Rei settled into her room, the oppressive atmosphere within the inn became palpable. Shadows seemed to dance in the corners of her vision, and strange, ghostly whispers echoed in the corridors. Unbeknownst to her, Rei had become a pawn in a centuries-old battle between the inn and the vengeful spirits that resided within.
In the dead of night, Rei awoke to a chilling presence at her bedside—an ethereal yurei, her white burial kimono flowing like a spectral river. The vengeful spirit's eyes held an insatiable hunger, and she reached out to Rei, her fingers icy and skeletal.
Rei's nights became torment as she encountered more yurei within the inn, each with their own tragic stories of betrayal, injustice, and unfulfilled desires. The spirits sought vengeance, and Rei's presence within the inn had awakened their malevolence.
Desperate to uncover the inn's secrets and free herself from the spirits' relentless pursuit, Rei sought the guidance of Eiko. The elderly proprietress revealed the tragic history of the inn—an establishment built on the suffering of countless souls who had met their demise within its walls.
Eiko's own family had been entangled in the inn's dark legacy, and she bore the weight of their deeds. Together, Rei and Eiko embarked on a journey to confront the yurei and offer them redemption, hoping to break the cycle of suffering that had plagued the inn for centuries.
In a harrowing confrontation with the vengeful spirits, Rei and Eiko unveiled the truth behind the inn's cursed history and acknowledged the pain of the souls that had been wronged. With heartfelt apologies and rituals of atonement, they sought to release the spirits from their torment.
As the first rays of dawn bathed Okuyama in a golden light, the yurei's spectral forms dissolved into the ether, their eyes filled with a mix of sorrow and gratitude. The Yurei Inn, once a place of darkness, now held the promise of redemption.
Rei departed from Okuyama, forever marked by her encounter with the supernatural. The Yurei Inn, now cleansed of its malevolent spirits, stood as a testament to the power of reconciliation and the hope of breaking the chains of the past.
"The Haunting of the Yurei Inn" became a cautionary tale among villagers, a reminder that the sins of the past could be confronted and forgiven, even in the face of vengeful spirits.
End of Chapter 7: "The Haunting of the Yurei Inn"
Chapter 8: "The Curse of the Haunted Kimono"
In the heart of Kyoto, where tradition and modernity intertwined, a family heirloom, an ancient kimono, carried a chilling curse that had plagued generations. A woman must delve into her family's history to uncover the origins of the curse and find a way to break it before it consumes her and her loved ones.
Chapter 8: "The Curse of the Haunted Kimono"
Kyoto, the city of a thousand temples, was a place where time seemed to stand still. Among the historic districts, the Nakamura family had passed down a treasured heirloom for generations—an exquisite silk kimono adorned with intricate embroidery, a relic of a bygone era.
The kimono had always been a source of fascination and reverence within the Nakamura family. It was said to be imbued with mystical powers, protecting its wearer from harm and misfortune. But beneath its ornate beauty lay a dark secret—a curse that had haunted the family for centuries.
Emi, the youngest of the Nakamura family, had grown up hearing stories of the kimono's mystical properties and the curse that clung to it. When her grandmother passed away, leaving the kimono in her care, Emi became the latest custodian of this fabled garment.
As the years passed, strange occurrences began to plague Emi and her family. The kimono seemed to have a malevolent presence, causing nightmares, unexplained accidents, and a growing sense of dread. Emi's husband, Toshiro, and their young daughter, Yuki, bore the brunt of the curse's effects.
Desperate to protect her loved ones, Emi embarked on a quest to uncover the origins of the curse and find a way to break it. She delved into her family's history, poring over ancient scrolls and consulting with local priests and scholars.
Through her research, Emi learned of a tragic love story that had been concealed for generations—a forbidden romance between a Nakamura ancestor and a woman from a rival clan. The lovers had been torn apart by a vengeful spirit, and their love had been sealed within the cursed kimono.
With newfound determination, Emi sought out the help of a renowned exorcist, who revealed that the curse could only be broken by reconciling the spirits of the star-crossed lovers and offering them a chance at eternal peace.
Emi, Toshiro, and Yuki embarked on a journey to the ancestral shrine of the Nakamura family, where they conducted a solemn ritual to appease the vengeful spirits. As they offered their prayers and made heartfelt apologies on behalf of their ancestors, a profound sense of forgiveness washed over them.
In a climactic moment, the cursed kimono transformed, its once malevolent aura dissipating into the ether. The spirits of the star-crossed lovers, now free from their torment, appeared before Emi and her family, their eyes filled with gratitude.
As the cherry blossoms rained down upon Kyoto, Emi, Toshiro, and Yuki returned home with a newfound sense of peace and closure. The kimono, no longer cursed, became a symbol of their family's resilience and the enduring power of love and forgiveness.
"The Curse of the Haunted Kimono" served as a reminder that the sins of the past could be atoned for and that the bonds of love and family could transcend even the darkest of curses.
End of Chapter 8: "The Curse of the Haunted Kimono"
Chapter 9: "The Mirror's Malevolence"
In a quiet suburban neighborhood, an antique mirror with a sinister past found its way into the home of a young couple. As they unwittingly unleashed the malevolent spirit trapped within, they must confront the mirror's dark history to save themselves and their family.
Chapter 9: "The Mirror's Malevolence"
In a serene suburban neighborhood, where cherry blossoms bloomed with each passing spring, lived a young couple, Hiroshi and Aiko, who were enamored with the charm of their new home. They had recently moved into a quaint, old-fashioned house that came with a peculiar antique mirror.
The mirror was ornate and beautiful, its frame adorned with delicate carvings of cherry blossoms. It had been left behind by the previous owner, a recluse who had passed away under mysterious circumstances. Little did Hiroshi and Aiko know that this mirror carried a malevolent secret.
As they settled into their new home, strange occurrences began to unfold. Reflections in the mirror seemed to distort, showing glimpses of eerie, shadowy figures lurking in the background. At night, whispers filled the room as if unseen voices murmured from within the glass.
Aiko, with her fascination for the occult, was the first to sense the mirror's sinister aura. She delved into research, uncovering tales of a cursed mirror that had plagued the previous owner's family for generations.
The mirror had once belonged to a vengeful spirit, a yūrei who had perished in despair. Its malevolence was bound to the glass, and those who possessed it were tormented by the spirit's relentless anger and sorrow.
Desperate to free themselves from the mirror's curse, Hiroshi and Aiko sought the guidance of a spiritual medium. Through a series of rituals and séances, they made contact with the vengeful spirit trapped within the mirror.
The spirit's story unfolded like a tragic drama—the yūrei had been a young woman in love with a man from a rival clan. Their love was forbidden, and when their secret was discovered, they had both met a grisly end. Her spirit had been bound to the mirror as punishment for her defiance of societal norms.
With the medium's help, Hiroshi and Aiko offered prayers and apologies on behalf of the mirror's original owner, seeking forgiveness for the wrongs committed against the vengeful spirit. They vowed to help the spirit find peace and redemption.
In a chilling climax, they conducted a final ritual, allowing the yūrei to pass on and find the solace she had been denied for centuries. As they gazed into the mirror one last time, they saw the spirit's reflection fade into the distance, her eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and farewell.
The mirror, now cleansed of its malevolence, became a symbol of hope and renewal for Hiroshi and Aiko. Their family flourished, and the cherry blossoms in their garden bloomed with newfound vibrancy, a testament to the enduring power of love and forgiveness.
"The Mirror's Malevolence" served as a chilling reminder that even the most innocuous objects could carry dark secrets, and that confronting the past and seeking redemption could break the bonds of even the most malevolent curses.
End of Chapter 9: "The Mirror's Malevolence"
Chapter 10: "The Bridge to the Beyond"
In a remote mountain village, isolated from the modern world, a historic bridge served as a link between the living and the dead. When a group of travelers crossed its ancient planks, they would discover the chilling truth behind the bridge's supernatural origins.
Chapter 10: "The Bridge to the Beyond"
Deep within the heart of the Japanese mountains, nestled among ancient forests and shrouded in mist, lay the village of Yamanokawa. It was a place where tradition and superstition still held sway, and the bridge that spanned the river was both a lifeline and a gateway to the unknown.
A group of adventurous travelers, drawn by the allure of Yamanokawa's untouched beauty, embarked on a journey to explore the village's remote reaches. Among them were Kaito, a historian with an insatiable curiosity, and Mia, a photographer who sought to capture the essence of this secluded world.
The village's centerpiece was the Akane Bridge, a weathered structure made of ancient wood and adorned with centuries-old lanterns. Its planks creaked with the weight of history, and the river below whispered tales of lives long gone.
As the travelers ventured deeper into Yamanokawa, they discovered that the villagers held a profound reverence for the bridge. It was said to be a link between the living and the dead, a place where offerings were made to appease the spirits that dwelled in the surrounding forest.
As night descended, the travelers set up camp near the Akane Bridge, its lanterns casting an eerie, flickering glow on the river's surface. It was then that they heard the sound—a mournful melody that seemed to emanate from the bridge itself.
Mia, driven by curiosity, followed the haunting tune to the bridge's edge. There, bathed in an otherworldly light, she saw a figure—a woman in a white kimono, her long hair flowing like an ebony waterfall.
The woman, whose name was Hikari, revealed herself to be a yūrei, a spirit bound to the Akane Bridge for centuries. She had once been a young bride whose love had been torn apart by a tragic accident on her wedding day. Her spirit was eternally linked to the bridge, where she waited for her beloved to return.
Kaito, the historian, delved into the village's archives and uncovered the tragic story of Hikari's past. It was a tale of love and loss, of a bride whose life had been cut short, and a groom whose heart had been forever scarred by grief.
With newfound determination, the travelers sought to reunite the spirits of Hikari and her beloved. They embarked on a journey deep into the forest, following a path laden with offerings and prayers.
At the heart of the forest, they discovered an ancient shrine dedicated to love and reconciliation. There, in a poignant ceremony, they offered heartfelt prayers and apologies on behalf of the villagers and the groom who had never returned.
As the first light of dawn broke over Yamanokawa, a sense of serenity washed over the Akane Bridge. Hikari's spectral form dissolved into the river's mist, her eyes filled with a mix of longing and gratitude.
The travelers departed from Yamanokawa, forever changed by their encounter with the supernatural. The Akane Bridge, now freed from its haunting past, stood as a testament to the enduring power of love and the hope of reuniting even in the afterlife.
"The Bridge to the Beyond" became a legend whispered among villagers, a reminder that some bonds could transcend time and that the spirit of love endured even in the face of eternity.
End of Chapter 10: "The Bridge to the Beyond"
submitted by No-Quality-2644 to RS_archive [link] [comments]

2024.05.23 19:07 Vegetable_Watch_9578 Brahmins in India co-opt prominent spiritual figures by labeling them as incarnations of Vishnu or other Hindu deities, thereby integrating them into the broader Hindu framework to legitimize their own religious narratives and maintain cultural hegemony.

Brahmins in India co-opt prominent spiritual figures by labeling them as incarnations of Vishnu or other Hindu deities, thereby integrating them into the broader Hindu framework to legitimize their own religious narratives and maintain cultural hegemony. submitted by Vegetable_Watch_9578 to EXHINDU [link] [comments]

2024.05.23 05:07 Weird-Listen-3166 Magus Reborn (Kingdom Building Progression fantasy) Chapter 1 - A new era!

Synopsis: A Magus journey to save his world from mana contamination and make sure it don't fall back into the same path as he finds himself in an era before magic was developed.
Kai of the Sorcerer's Tower is one of the last mages left, barely surviving in a world ruled by creatures of the dark — where the era of mages ended, and most of the lands got contaminated with dead mana.
To save his world and fulfil his master's last wish, he put himself through a forbidden ritual, risking his soul being ripped into pieces to make his way into the past. In an era with abundant mana — an era yet to enter the Golden Era of Magic.
Things go wrong, of course, as they always do, and he finds himself thousands of years before the world fell to mana contamination — in the body of a young lord, Arzan.
All is not well, though, as the young lord was murdered by someone right at the cusp of a beast wave threatening the territory, while larger threats loom on the horizon.
There was a lot to do for Kai to regain his former strength in this time of primitive technology, but then again, he might just be able to change that.
Hello everyone, this is my first time posting on reddit. Hope you would like it!
Chapter 1
Sweat stung Kai’s eyes as he plunged his knife into the floor. He carved runes and Freyac syllables around him, wood splintering as his knife traced the erratic patterns.
He had, maybe, five minutes.
The cold floor of the Sorcerer’s Tower thrummed through him as the ritual circle released magical energy. The symbols were crude and unrecognisable, making him wonder if they were even going to work, but there was no choice.
While this was the most complicated ritual he'd ever done, he needed to make it work, to escape this place and to change things for the better.
He jumped in his seat as throaty and menacing shouts from outside echoed through the corridors.
They had found him.
His head snapped in fear, taking note of the shaky walls of the library. The wide room, once neatly organised, was now cluttered and disorganised with books scattered everywhere on the floor. Dust and cobwebs only added to the mess.
His breath came out in ragged puffs and he looked down at his scarred hands.
He drew the symbols faster. He needed to finish—now! But panic clawed at his chest, making him clumsy.
Footsteps echoed through the halls of the Sorcerer's Tower and he flinched.
The mana fiends were just outside.
The creaky, wooden door burst open behind him with a loud thud. Kai was fast on his feet, turning around to face the shadowy figure.
With the face of a bull and bulging muscles, the minotaur-like creature stood at seven feet, crowned by a pair of misshapen curved horns. Black lines ran through its arms and neck, and endless rows of fangs and protrusions stuck out from its back.
Its sharp claws seemed like they'd cut up the floor faster than Kai could with his knife.
It was covered in grey fur, interspersed with patches of dead skin from overexposure to the decayed mana.
Kai's heart thumped in his ears as he weaved his hand to the left, casting a [Gust] spell while visualising a strong force of wind knocking the corrupted monster down.
It hit its chest, making it screech and stumble back a few steps.
Kai tightened his fingers around the hilt of the knife.
The mana fiend got its feet under it again and lunged forward.
He felt his breath leaving his lungs at the sight. Before it could reach him, he rolled on the floor, dodging the charge while hacking its leg with the knife.
The fiend snarled threateningly as it slashed its claws at him in a swift motion. Kai prepared another spell and slid back, but he was too slow.
The spell structure broke apart and his vision wavered as he was thrown into a bookshelf, his knife skidding away.
Terrible pain hit him as he screamed in pain and touched his face.
Blood dripped on the floor as he stared at his palm. His left eye was bleeding. Was it even there?
“It gouged out… my eye,” he muttered, trying to fight through the pain.
He had severely underestimated the power of the mana fiend. Or maybe it was due to him being in this near-crippled state that his spells weren't as powerful.
Either way, I need to get up.
Kai shook his head and tried to stand.
Even if he couldn't see, he needed to go through the ritual. That was the only way to survive, but he had to fight off the mana fiend first.
The creature’s dark magic covered its claws, sending out blasts of corrupted energy that rippled and cut through the bookshelves as it got closer to him.
Kai grasped his left eye with one hand and, using his other hand, he cast [Mana Discharge], sending a blast of mana at the creature. It tried to block but was knocked back into a bookshelf, falling and crying out in pain.
Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't have used such a spell with high mana requirements, but he had no time.
He cast the spell [Blinding], making the monster see white.
Making his way through the fallen bookshelves, he searched for his knife and found it right next to a puddle of blood.
He picked it up and looked towards the mana fiend.
As soon as the Blinding spell died down, it picked itself up, flailing its arm around and lunging at Kai, who was anticipating such a move.
Before it could get close to him, Kai yelled, “Astrum Vosem!”
The knife glistened with mana, fire crackling within the blade as he surged forward, aiming at the monster’s neck. The mana fiend slashed at him again, but he ducked, barely avoiding the hit.
Casting another [Blinding] spell, he sent the monster stumbling back before plunging the blade into its neck. Flames crackled as he twisted the blade, aiming for the black lines.
The mana fiend fell to the ground immediately, black liquid spewing everywhere.
It cried out in pain, trying to grab Kai, but he didn't give it the chance and kept digging deep into its neck until it stopped whimpering.
Blood oozed from Kai’s eye and he suddenly noticed a deep cut on his arm. Pain numbed all his senses, but there was no time to focus on it.
“The ritual,” Kai coughed blood, realising that crashing into the bookshelf had given him internal injuries. He dragged himself on the floor until he was ahead of his preparation and felt like cursing.
A part of the ritual circle was smeared due to the blood splatter from the fight.
It was ruined.
Quickly deciding on his new move, he started scribbling frantically, drawing up a new ritual circle.
His fingers were cramping and slippery as he tried his best to draw the symbols in his mind. With one eye gone, it was much harder, and every mistake made him swear softly.
He heard more floor-shattering movements through the door. There was more than one mana fiend and the fight had attracted them to his hideout.
He needed to hurry. He only had a minute until they got here if he was lucky.
“Shit!”
He made a mistake and felt like banging his head against the floor. While keeping his remaining eye on the open door, he alternated between the ritual circle that was smeared with blood and one that was barely half complete.
He would never finish it in time.
Having no choice, Kai abandoned it and decided to take a gamble with a ruined ritual circle. A few of the lines were messed up, but he ignored it and focused on completing it.
Just one more line!
He frantically carved out the patterns, joining them with each other and let out a sigh of relief as he saw a completed ritual of intersecting circles. A part of it was barely recognizable due to the blood.
A [Cleansing] spell might have helped, but he was out of mana. The fight with the fiend had drained his reserves.
He heard a shrill voice and, as expected, soon several more creatures came inside, filling the room. They were all beasts filled with corrupted mana, but it didn't matter now.
He gave them a look and dropped the blood on his hands on the ritual circle.
In his heart, he only wished that the ritual circle would work as expected. That it would send him back to an era where he might still have a chance to stop the apocalypse from happening.
The symbols ignited, and an intense flash of white light enveloped the room. Threads of mana passed through his soul, drawing power to keep the ritual running as his body slumped on the floor. The fleeting moment came to an end when the world surrounding Kai went completely white.
The last thing he heard before he lost consciousness were the yells of the ugly monsters.
Kai flinched as a sharp pain assaulted his chest. His whole body was numb as he panted on the floor.
It felt like he had just stepped out of a prolonged period of floating in the cosmos. He didn't know how long it had been, but it definitely felt like years. Probably centuries.
A few seconds went by as he calmed down before the numbness disappeared and his eyes adjusted. Wait! His eyes!
He touched his left eye and found it intact.
It's healed completely!!
He didn't know how he had gotten his left eye back. The ritual wasn't supposed to heal him at all. It was only supposed to take him back in time.
Where am I? Am I really alive?
He was surprised that the ritual had worked, though he didn't know to what degree. With how crude it had been, there was a greater chance of it failing.
If death wasn't in front of him, Kai would have never gone for it.
At least it hadn't shredded his soul into pieces to be eaten by whatever lay beyond the afterlife, so that was a positive.
He looked around.
Kai was lying on a hardwood floor as he stared at the ceiling. Different carvings on the ceiling made him frown. He didn't recognise any of them.
He was supposed to have woken up in a cave or a forest, not in a room.
Something bubbled up in his heart and he felt unusual. His eyes immediately went to his hands and he quickly realised that the scars were gone. He gasped in horror and sat up straight.
The sudden movement caused a rush of blood to his head that made him dizzy.
“What in the Mersal's name is happening?”
He looked down on his physique.
His eyes grew wide as he noticed the tunic he was wearing was covered in blood. He opened the tunic button by button to reveal…
“Is that… a knife wound?” Kai said aloud in shock.
As he said the words, the wound slowly closed as if someone had used a healing spell on him. But that was impossible.
Something had gone terribly wrong with the ritual and one more look at himself was enough for him to realise that this wasn't his body. He had taken someone else's identity.
That realisation struck him like a mana bolt in the head as he gasped.
He breathed to calm himself down and noticed something he had been missing.
“There's mana in the air! Pure uncontaminated mana!”
All his thoughts and questions halted when a rush of fresh air hit his nostrils. He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of being alive once and for all. His instincts made him get to his feet.
The air had a quality about it that brought tears to his eyes— Mana. Goosebumps covered his entire body.
He breathed in once again.
The mana in the air was so powerful it crackled with every breath Kai took. The sheer amount of mana left him wordless. This surpassed anything he had ever felt before.
Kai raised his hands, feeling all the energy that filled the air. It filled the entire room, and in his 40 years of life, he had never felt so much.
His ritual had worked, albeit differently than what he had hoped.
What is this place? Kai looked around from where he stood.
The room was bathed in an eerie light that emanated from what looked like another ritual circle beneath him.
His eyes widened at another peculiar thing as he took in the situation that he was in the middle of.
Arcane symbols were drawn all around him. The symbols were alien to him; not being one of the languages he knew and had learned. Some of them seemed similar to Hales Tongue, but he couldn't be sure since blood had spilt over them.
It was a completely different ritual circle than the kinds he knew of.
Questions became hurricanes in his mind after seeing the symbols. He tried to focus and understand his situation better.
Although the ritual had worked, he knew there would be complications since a part of it was ruined. Half-completed ritual circles were always volatile. As a result of it, he had even changed bodies.
If his assumption was correct, the ritual had only sent his soul back in time which had found a compatible body for him to control. It didn't make a lot of sense to him, but then again, the soul was a part of magical theory that had barely progressed in years.
It was too mysterious.
He decided to gather information and took a look around the room.
There was a four-poster bed draped with heavy velvet right behind him. The bed was extremely lavish apart from the poor draping skills. The rest of the bedside decorations were canopy hangings and ornate wood furniture, including storage chests and cabinets for personal belongings.
Whoever used to own this body was rich. Maybe a lord or a wealthy merchant, Kai contemplated, looking over the room.
He walked towards the bed and touched it. It had gone stone cold. Nobody had used the bed for hours.
The fireplace caught his attention. It was the main focus of the room, with the hearth having heraldic symbols carved above it. This time, he recognised the language as Manakrit.
His fingertips followed them as he contemplated the meaning of it. It was a common tongue that had spanned centuries, so it was hard to say which era he was in. His ritual was supposed to bring him to the past, but he hadn't gotten time to specify a date.
His wish was simply to go back as far as possible. However, he assumed 500 years was the limit for the ritual, so he must be around that period.
In the first place, it had been a suicidal attempt with an unknown chance of success. Yet things had somehow worked out.
Looking around, he saw a picture frame stuck on the wall from the corner of his eye.
Kai turned and walked towards the picture. It was an old man. His bald head and his stern gaze were pointed to his left, as he sat in a seat comfortably.
It's weird that the picture is just sitting there in the corner. Either some important individual or the owner of this place.
With the ritual, everything seemed odd.
The former body owner had wounds that were fresh in two or three places, including his hands and feet. The clothes were covered with slightly dried-up blood.
“What was the guy even doing? He wasn't trying a similar ritual to go back in time, right?”
His voice was strange. Hoarse, and deeper than he remembered.
Closing his eyes, he remembered his last few minutes in the tower. It was infested with bloodthirsty creatures. Every moment was tense, but in this room, there was a weird sense of serenity that he hadn't felt in a long time.
He was alive, at least.
He sighed in content and opened his eyes. breathing mana with a wide smile.
The mana in the air tempted him to extend his hand. He needed more light to see around the symbols.
His index finger swirled a little into a circle while he envisioned lighting up the central fireplace. Normally, this spell would’ve ignited a small fireball, but nothing came.
Strange.
Immediately, Kai took a few steps forward. He inhaled the air, feeling the energy in his bones, and tried the spell again, his hand moving attempting a simple spell even a 1st circle mage could’ve done in a blink.
He even muttered an incantation for added effect, normally reserved for harder spells.
“Astrum Octavia.”
Once again, he successfully failed.
He’d normally cast something so simple with just intent, but it wasn't working.
Something clouded his mind. He looked down on his new body and concentrated internally. He could sense mana and could feel his Mana Veins, even his Mana Heart seemed intact, but focusing on it, he realised that the body he was in was a Non-Mage.
He hadn't even started his magical journey and couldn't cast a single spell.
All the mana organs were intact, but he hadn't awakened as a mage. The realisation of it made him wince. Not only had he lost his body, he had also lost his strength. He used to be a 5th Circle Magus. Now, he was a mere mortal. Ordinary.
If he had really awakened in a cave or a forest, he might have been killed by wild beasts.
“This… can’t be true.” Kai's refusal to believe the reality of his situation overwhelmed his thoughts for a few more seconds as he closed his eyes to feel his insides. Seconds stretched to minutes as he contemplated his new reality.
He slowly took in the fact that he was no longer Kai. He was in someone else's body and had taken over him. He didn't know who that person was, but he had been killed by whatever ritual he had been attempting.
A few possibilities flashed by his mind. Maybe his soul had been dragged here by the ritual this man was attempting? Or his ritual of regression had simply only been for his soul rather than his body.
As soon as his soul had found a suitable vessel, it had taken over him.
Though, these were simply possibilities he wasn't sure of.
He decided to investigate.
“What’s that?”
His eyes followed the trail of the bloody ritual on the floor to find a piece of parchment.
Kai bent down to swiftly pick it up. The torn page lay between his fingertips, the words written on it were with blood.
Whoever had written it had poor penmanship, to say the least. He slowly read out the words.
“I will die and be reborn. Everyone will fear my might and the dawn of blood will arrive again.”
He dropped the parchment on the floor, wondering if he had come back in the past and inside the body of a cultist. But even if it was a cultist, the surroundings including the room didn’t sum up, and if he was somehow in the body of a noble who was a ritualistic devotee, things would only get worse from here.
“I don't want to deal with a cult. At least not when I'm basically powerless,” he muttered, frowning as his voice turned bitter.
Kai let the weight of the situation settle in, but the door sprung open.
He immediately looked to the side and saw a woman with widened eyes. Her eyes were on the floor seeing the symbols, syllables, lines, and curves; all of it. Then they fell on the owner of the room, bloodied and in the middle of this encounter, with his hands at his side.
That was him and he noticed the woman looked like a maid.
“I-” The maid opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
Kai stared at her, again feeling like he was simply going from one problem to another.
Ah shit! How do I get out of this one?
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2024.05.23 02:40 Obvious_Ad4159 Sand & Steel - Chapter 6: White Maiden

The realization that having the final word may have been bitter-sweet had begun to dawn on Solon, as he sat on a low brick wall near a well at the center of the market. Clearly, people like Vur'z and Sheela, those that spoke English, were hard to come across. On top of the language barrier, the mercenary had another issue. Money. His world or this one, coins were words everyone knew. And he had none of those either.
He tried to hire a guide or ask for directions out of the desert, but the mouths of the villagers were as dry as his pockets. Roaming around the village, trying to avoid attention while pondering his next move, he noticed a good number of people going in and out of a small saloon styled building. The words written on the sign in front were unintelligible to Solon, but from his knowledge of this world, the chances of it being a guild or an adventurer agency of some sort were pretty high. Pushing the doors open, strolling into the main room with the stride of an Old Western gunslinger, Solon threw away any attempts of staying under the radar.
Every head turned to him, analyzing and studying the man that walked through the door, eyes lingering on his prosthetic left arm. The soldier walked over to what he had assumed was the main desk, and before he could even open his mouth to speak, the beastfolk woman on the other side interrupted him.
"Igilin! Abatu, pa'ta marez lof." She spoke, he ears perking up and her tail moving around welcomingly. She was a jackal like creature, from what Solon could tell and her hyper behavior confirmed that.
Her voice was high pitched, assaulting the man’s ears with a relentless slew of words he could not understand. The speed of her talk took him down memory lane, reminding him of a toy phone he had a kid, one that made random noises when he'd press a button or say "I love you" at 10 times the speed.
The guild woman kept on talking, now pulling out charts and several guide books, pointing her clawed finger and flipping pages. Solon exhaled loudly, before giving her the thumbs up with his good hand and turning to leave, when something caught his eye. A bullet board on the other side of the room, covered all over with countless quest requests and offers. One paper stood out from the bunch. A large drawing of a beastfolk child, along with several scribbled under which was a nice coin offer. To the mercenary, it was common knowledge that two things were universal on any world. Bounty posters and missing people posters. And this one was of the latter.
He pulled the poster off the board, looking over it once more. The offer indeed was enough to entice any man, just by the number of zeros written on the page. Solon looked up at the sky as if thanking God for the intervention. He'd seed the person on the poster before, the screaming beastfolk boy that Vur'z was transporting in his caravan. Clearly whoever the boy was taken from would pay a pretty penny to have him back. Something did bother him about the situation however. With an offer so lucrative, the was no chance the poster would be left hung for that long without anyone taking on the bounty. Vur'z sons were strong young men, but they were far from an issue when it came to a group of adventurers. That odd suspicion was further solidified by all the stares the man felt drilling into his back. The guild patrols gave him dirty looks as he rolled up the poster and stuck it under his cloak, in his back pocket and went back out on the street to find Vur'z.
Solon wandered the village until sundown, until he finally stumbled across the resting spot for trade caravans. He was hungry and quite in a sour mood, walking over to the wagons without a word. Sedef spotted him first, sending his 3 brothers to go and fetch their father while he tried to deal with the mercenary.
"Solon! Nice seeing you again so soon." Sedef said, walking over to the man.
"Where's your old man Sedef?" Solon asked, walking past the guard.
"He went to fetch supplies from the market. Shouldn't be long before he's back." The young man replied. "Would you like to wait for him here?"
The young man felt uneasy, his own inability to simply tell the mercenary to piss off didn't sit well with him. He was the best hand to hand combatant in his little village, but even with that, Sedef knew that if he were to swing at the soldier, it would end badly. So he swallowed his pride and decided on a more friendly approach.
"Yeah, if you don't mind." Solon sat down, his stomach growling with hunger.
The two men sat in awkward silence for a while, before finally Vur'z appeared around the corner. "Ah, Solon. I see Lady Sheela is not with you. What can I do you for?" Spoke the slaver.
With his mechanical arm, the soldier pulled out the poster and showed it to Vur'z. The other one seemed oddly relieved. "Oh, you're here for that? Sad to say I already handed him over."
Solon sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose in frustration. "So, where is it?"
"Come have dinner with us. If you're serious about getting the kid, you'll need some info about where he's been taken and by who first." Vur'z patted the man on the back, inviting him to the wagon.
***
"What's the situation?"
The elven scout turned around swiftly, almost jumping out of his own skin from fright. "My Lady." He placed his hand on his chest to calm his heartbeat. "I beg of you, do not sneak up on me that way."
General Eirlys hid a smile, before focusing her eyes towards the squad of invaders walking through the woods, setting up a defense perimeter. The Vatur kingdom has been struggling with containing the invading humans, especially when it came to portal control. Having multiple wild portal gates just outside the borders of the elven forest made it very hard to prevent humans from breaching from the other side. Countless skirmishes had broken out since the humans first captured the largest portal and make it their outposts. The Iron Fortress that blew a hole through the, now almost fully healed, Home Tree still stood tall and was heavily protected. The smaller gates were less guarded so the elves managed to take those back within a few months, as the invading murder apes seemed not too keen on dying over those strategic points.
However, it seemed that the enemy had now set their sight on the second largest gate and begun turning it into an outpost. The worked tirelessly, day and night, fending off occasional elven raid parties sent by the Vatur kingdom with ease. The motion detecting turrets proved to be the biggest issue that elves could not overcome. As soon as they would get within range, even under the cover of night, the machines would mercilessly shower them with bullets until they were gunned down.
Desperate, Princess Claudia requested the presence of the kingdoms most decorated general, Eirlys Atteris. A warrior known for her outstanding strategic prowess, merciless approach to combat and the ability to turn even the spineless of elves into soldiers worthy of serving the kingdom. Within weeks of her arrival, she managed to push the expansion of the murder ape outpost back within range of their turrets and lock them in a stalemate. That gave the elven troops enough morale boost to believe that victory was possible. However, to the general, the behavior of the enemy told a completely opposite story. The human invaders seemed too content to stay within the confines of the stalemate and not expand the outpost further, as they have been doing thus far. Even their establishing of defense perimeters seemed to be oriented around doubling, if not tripling the defenses of the already established outposts borders rather than a preparation for a counter assault.
"They seem to be doubling the defenses again. This is the third day in the row that they turn the portal on. The reinforcements coming through however aren't really numerous. If they are mounting a counter attack, they will need a lot more manpower than this, even with their equipment, to breach into the forest." The scout replied.
"Something doesn't sit right with me about this entire thing." Eirlys thought to herself.
The humans seemed to be moving around, tinkering on some stationary devices, hooking them up to the portal. Most of them that came through the gate didn't even seem like military personnel, if uniform and lack of weaponry was something to based such an opinion on.
"My Lady." A tap on the shoulder interrupted the general from her train of thought. "Permission to speak freely?"
"Go ahead."
"I am Amara Lindwysp, I served under Lord Eothen and Lady Claudia." Said the scout.
"And?" Replied the general.
"I have seen this before. The night his Majesty lost his life and her Majesty her legs." Amara continued. "These people aren't soldiers, they are..." She searched her mind for the right word. "Engineers."
"Engineers?" The other scout butted in.
"Yes. That's what the murder apes call them. They are in charge of the equipment. They were there the night the Iron Fortress breached the gate."
"The Iron Fortress..." Mumbled the general, turning her gaze back to the encampment, observing the humans work and set up various equipment. "But this gate is too small for another Iron Fortress to pass through."
"That may be so my Lady, but the devices they are setting up are designed to generate massive amounts of energy to keep the gate open for an extended period of time. I cannot be certain what they are up to, but they are priming that portal to be open for a while. Divines only know what sort of contraption they plan on ushering through it." Amara said.
The look on the scout’s face gave the general everything she needed to know about the gravity of the situation. There was not a single lie in the girl’s words. Something like this should not be dismissed.
"So, what are we to do? You've been there. Tell me." Eirlys said, catching the girl off guard.
"Oh uhm. I don't believe I am fit to advise you on what our best course of action is my Lady." The elf replied, losing her composure for a second.
"Not the time for humility or modesty Amara Lindwysp!" The general said coldly. "You've been there. You best know what went wrong with the assault on the Iron Fortress. Now, for the sake of the kingdom and your comrades, speak."
Amara took a deep breath, steeling herself. "The devices that shoot, they follow movements. Even through rain and fog. Illusion spells don't work them either. If we get in range, they will mow us down before we even can get off a single arrow."
"That I am well aware of. Tell me something that I can actually use."
"Yes, yes, my apologies. Hitting them with explosive spells from outside of their range should do the trick, as they do not appear to track any movement that isn't actual enemy troops. They do not seem to be activated by arrows that fly past them, nor birds or any other critters I've noticed move within their range." The scout continued, trying her best to remember everything she knows about the enemy.
"Devices they are setting up, they're the ones keeping the portal gate open for a long time. If we take out those, it should close before they pull whatever they plan to, through the gate. And I don't see..." She focused her eyes on the encampment, as if searching for something amidst the enemy. "...any warhounds."
"Warhounds?" Eirlys raised an eyebrow quizzically.
"Yes, my Lady. It was a one-armed, one-eyed human that ended the life of Prince Eothen that night. It had a metal left arm. Apparently, those soldiers are called war hounds and are here to exterminate the local population before the larger troops can move in."
"Gods, what a barbaric species. You'd think them demons in human skin, rather than actual humans." The other scout said in shock.
"I see. Do not omit anything scout." The general added.
"That is all I know my Lady." Amara bowed her head.
***
"So, the gladiatorial arena?" Solon asked, leaning against the wall of the wagon.
With his stomach full of food, the mood of the man improved significantly. Vur'z nodded.
"Yes. But don't think you can just whisk the kid away. The arena is situated under the village and it's a pay to enter type of deal. Steep price indeed." Explained the slaver. "And you, my friend, stick out like a sore thumb in these parts. There isn't a single human in this village, much less one with your description. Whispers are going around already, about you taking the poster and accepting the quest to find the missing kid by doing so."
The human nodded, rubbing his beard with his good hand.
"And the event orchestrator has a lot of financial influence over the adventurers that are regulars in this village. So, keep your head on a swivel else you might a dagger to the back." The old man warned.
"I see. Well, Vur'z, I'd best be heading now. I'd have for you and your sons to catch strays because of me. Just point me in the right direction and I'll be on my way." Solon got up, shook the man’s hand and dusted off his pants and cloak.
"They are at the Crooked Claw's inn. In the basement, that's where the underground arena is and also where the gladiators are being kept." Vur'z replied, shaking the human’s hand in return. "I wish you the best of luck."
As solon turned to leave, Kopak stopped him. "Here, take this. It's not much, but it'll be of use to you, I hope."
The slaver trader’s son handed an old hatchet to Solon. A simple bone handle with an obsidian blade. The mercenary accepted the gift and placed it on his belt, it would be of use more than just to rely on hand-to-hand combat and his metal arm. "Thanks kid. You boys don't give your old man too hard of a time. So long."
With that, the soldier headed down the street and disappeared out of sight once he rounded a corner.
***
The entire village seemed devoid of life once the sun went down. As the ringed moon illuminated the empty streets, Solon could not help but feel watched. He did not even try to confirm if the feeling was true, knowing that playing oblivious would give his stalker more window to slip up. Following directions given by Vur'z, he eventually found Crooked Claw's Inn. The place was crowded, mostly with adventurers and some village folk, though something about them seemed odd. A good number of them, including the barmaids, seemed to survey the surroundings at regular intervals, as if on the lookout for something.
Thanks to his left eye implant, Solon didn't have to risk getting too close to the windows or doors to see inside, choosing to instead survey from the roof of a small house across the street. The front door was out of the question. Solon waited for the crowd inside to slowly get drunk, before making his move. He snuck behind Inn, slipping inside through the back entrance. Even the vigilant adventurers and barmaids have dulled their senses with hours of alcohol and loud music, so Solon did not have to be too stealthy. As long as he was not in direct line of sight, he didn't have to worry too much. The two cooks he found in the kitchen, since that's the room that the back door lead directly towards, did not seem to care about him being there. One of them sat on the floor, seemingly exhausted, while the other struggled to finish the few remaining orders for the intoxicated, rowdy patrons in the main dining hall of the inn.
Hiding his metal arm under his cloak and his shining left eye under the hood, Solon put his best mute impression, mumbling and making incoherent speech that meant nothing, while waving his right hand in a fighting motion. The cook on the floor took some time to understand what the man was trying to say, before figuring out that the stranger was asking for the entrance to the underground arena. Not wanting to deal with whatever was wrong with the cloaked lunatic in front of them, the cooks simply pointed to the door furthest from them on the left. It was evident they weren't paid enough to care about anything besides cooking. Solon, still engrossed in his acting attempt, thanked them with more mumbling, before rushing to the door and opening it swiftly, disappearing into the hallway on the other side, before any alarm bells went off in the heads of the cooks.
Following the long, thin, barely lit hallway, the mercenary soon found himself in a large room, looking very similar to a prison cell block. The smell of filth and moisture wafted from every direction, assaulting his nostrils. He spat on the ground, so the smell does not linger in mouth, before proceeding to sneak through the almost pitch-black room. Groaning, sniffling and occasional cough would come from different cells, though the majority of them seemed empty. Four torches attempted to light up the cell room, but their fires were dimmed, at the bring of being put out. Not that the darkness was an issue for the soldier, the implant that was replacing his left eye allowed him to see just fine in the dark.
Most cells were occupied by bones and corpses, emaciated bodies that withered away from thirst or starvation. Those that still had living prisoners inside, were occupied by beastfolk. The majority of them being of adult age and in no shape to do anything. Even his presence didn't seem to elicit any reaction from them. What was done to them, he had no idea, but they had clearly given up on life.
"This explains the lack of guards in this area. Even if these guys weren't caged, they still wouldn't even try to escape." Solon thought to himself.
Sounds of cheering and yelling came from outside the room. Finding the door, the soldier peeked through the doorway. There it was, the gladiatorial arena Vur'z spoke about. A pit, lined with something akin to barber wire, with two combatants, clearly beast folk, engaged in bloody hand to hand combat against one another. The seats placed in rows all around the pin were filled to the brim. Solon could recognize a few faces in the crowd, some from market and others from the adventurer’s guild.
With each blow exchanged, the crowd cheered and shouted. Coins pouches were passed around as the spectators made bets who would win. Women, barely dressed, walked around the crowd either passing out drinks or collecting coin from the bettors. Behind the bleachers and the crowd, several more cells lined the walls. Solon crouched, moving slow and low as to not get spotted.
The entire gladiatorial arena had a simplistic designed, working the mercenary's favor. A single hallway with cells lining the walls on one side, filled with that night's combatants, and a wall up to hip height on the other side, allowing a partially obstructed view of the main arena in the center. A single source of light hung above the arena, being the single source of light, not counting a few dim torches on the hallway’s walls. The bleachers wrapped around the pit where gladiators fought. Since all fighters were beastfolk, a ceiling of heavy metal bars was placed where the top of the arena pit met the bottom of the bleachers, to prevent any attempts at escaping of the gladiators from the pit and attacking the audience.
The ring of bleachers served as a divide between the arena pit and the cell hallway. The majority of the guards were nearest to the pit and audience, allowing Solon to sneak through the hallway without much issue, as long as he kept low and quiet.
The battle that was taking place below, from what he could hear at least, was a brutal one. Most likely fought to the death or very close to it. Growling, squealing and cheering all mixed together into noise that perfectly portrayed the brutality of the event. He looked through the bars of each cell, using his eye to quickly scan the captives inside, looking for the kid from the poster. Several cells and still no luck.
"Solon. Pssst SO-LON!" Came an all too familiar voice from the right of him.
Solon snapped his head to towards the source of the voice. In one of the smaller cells stood Sheela. The mercenary snorted, stifling a laugh.
"The almighty Dune Queen. I did not know followers get recruited from inside locked cells." He whispered.
She made a sour face at his mocking statement, before flipping him the bird. Another thing with universal meaning between both worlds. "What are you doing here?" Sheela asked, as he snuck closer to the cell.
"I'm looking for that kid Vur'z was hauling. He's got a pretty decent price for his safe return." Solon replied, quietly pulling out the poster with the kids face on it.
"Oh, and here I thought you've become a do-gooder for the sanctity of your soul." The former genie commented, before pushing her hand through the bars of the cell and pointing down the hallway, in the direction Solon had come from. "The kids over there, he's been roughed up quite a bit, since he didn't want to quiet down. He's still too small for fights, so he's not going in the pit tonight."
Solon nodded, rolling up the missing poster and putting back in his pocket. He turned around to head over to the kid’s cell. "Thanks Sheela."
Before he could properly make even a step, two long arms grabbed him by the cloak and turned him around, gripping him by the collar and holding him still. "Solon, I swear to the 7 divines, if you don't get me out of this cell, I will strangle you to death with my bare hands, right now." Sheela looked down at the man’s smug expression, speaking fast in a single breath, trying to remain whispering despite the desire to obliterate the soldier on the spot. Her golden eyes shining from the darkness, if looks could kill, Solon would be in the great beyond already.
Thanks to his implant eye, the mercenary could see the vein popping on her forehead as she glared at him.
"Alright, alright. I'm just playing with you." The shit eating grin consumed even more of his face, as the smugness in his expression threatened to reach critical levels. The former genie let go of his cloak with an exasperated sigh.
A frown took place a smirk use to be as he examined the lock that held the cell closed. He checked Sheela, from head to toe, making sure she's not in any shape that would hinder mobility.
"What? Now's not the time to be fawning over my looks Tin man." She scoffed.
"I'm checking if you are chained to the wall or anything that could prevent you from running. I can get you out, but it'll be loud. So I'll need you to send it as soon as I open the door." Solon explained, grabbing the cell door with his left hand. He looked up at Sheela, who took a step back and nodded.
His mechanical arm whirred softly before amping up. In a single powerful pull, the old lock gave way and the cell doors loudly swung open while creaking, before hitting bars and making even more noise. Sheela, the second the door banged against the bars, took off running down the hallway in the direction Solon had come from, with the mercenary hot on her heels.
"Four cells down from the entrance door!" She said, swinging the entrance door open and disappearing behind it as Solon kept on running past it towards the cell where the kid was being held.
The audience caught wind of the noise and so did the guards, so the mercenary had to work fast. Grabbing the cell doors and fully tearing them off the hinges, Solon got inside the cell. One quick look to confirm he didn't get the wrong kid and he was got to go.
The beastfolk boy on the other hand, did not share Solon's sentiment when it came to a quick escape. Believing the mercenary to simply be another one of the guards or trainers, he flew into a rage, hissing and screaming at the man, while flailing his arms, prepubescent claws out and ready to cut.
Chanting the same sleep spell incantation, he heard from Vur'z, the soldier approached the hysterical boy. Putting the little beast to sleep with a non-effective sleeping spell and a very effective right hook, Solon tossed the knocked-out boy over his shoulder and dashed outside the cell and towards the door, stopping just long enough to throw the cell door he had previously torn off, at the approaching guards.
***
General Eirlys and her troops were already cutting it close with their planned assault. The portal gate had been open without interruption for almost half a day, with only human engineers running in and out of the portal. Observing them gave some insight at the gates themselves and how they can be used. Watching the same men go in and out multiple times, before suddenly becoming dizzy and throwing up, had Amara realizing that there is a limit to how many times one can go through a portal in a short span of time before experiencing negative effects.
The elves waited for the cover of night to launch their attack, but tension was high. No one knew what the humans were priming the portal for, but as the number of engineers reduced and the outpost seemed to finish with all necessary preparations, Eirlys understood that it all comes down to this moment.
With everyone in position, arrows at the ready, the general focused her magic. Her arrow pulled back as the head of the arrow began to glow while Eirlys chanted to herself. A sharp inhale and the arrow was let loose.
The success, entirely dependent on scout Amara's information, was evident. Striking its mark, which was one of the human motion sensor turrets, the arrow exploded, rendering the device useless.
Humans sprung to action immediately, as the elven troops rushed out the forest, getting in range to let their arrows loose. Eirlys primed a second arrow, same spell, same target, another turret down. With arrow fired, her spell casting and firing increased in speed, taking down the turrets before they could be moved or properly fortified. As the last of them went up in flames, she rushed out of cover to join her troops in storming the outpost.
The generators that powered the gate and kept the portal open were heavily fortified. Her arrows, even with explosive enchantments could not leave even a single dent on them, let alone get to what's inside. So, the second option was to storm and take over the outpost, killing anyone who tries to get in from the other side, until they figure out how to disable the machines keeping the portal opened.
Caught by surprise, humans struggled to ward off the sudden elven attack. Their over reliance on the now destroyed turrets evidently proved to be a massive flaw. However, the elves were still going up against guns, and despite having the strength in numbers and the dark night on their side, not a single one of them has yet managed to get across the defensive walls of the outpost without being gunned down immediately.
Volley after volley of arrows rained down on the outpost, pushing the humans all the way back to the portal gate. This seemed like a victory for elves at last. That was what the general wanted to believe as her troops finally broke through the defense and stormed the outpost. But they were too late.
The portal rippled, as a monstrosity of metal came through it on four legs. Looking at it, Eirlys thought it looked like a spider or a crab of sorts. Then it came, the sound nightmares were made off. The spinning of metal, faster and faster, before gunfire echoed through the night. Not single shots, not burst fire, but a continuous shower of high caliber rounds tore the elves like they were leaves.
"FALL BACK! THEY BREACHED THE PORTAL!" The general screamed, leaping back over the wall, as the second spider like machine started crossing the portal from the other side. On each side a minigun, similar to the ones the turrets had, but larger in comparison. Turrets would gun down their targets, but these would tear them to chunks. Whirring and clamoring with each step it took, the machine moved closer. The general focused her magic, firing enchanted arrow after arrow at the unholy contraption, but her attempts yielded no results.
She finally leapt back over the outpost wall and joined what remained of her troops, as they ran back to the woods for safety, without any semblance or strategy. Just a mad dash in hopes of saving their heads.
The giant metal insect followed, walking through the stone wall with ease. Once more it opened fire, this time aiming at the cover they were running towards. Bullets tore through trees with ease, crushing any hope the elves had when it came to surviving this ordeal. Eirlys stood before it, aiming her arrow at the machine, one last ditch attempt to buy her comrades time to escape.
As the second walking nightmare began breaching the portal, the general experienced overwhelming despair grip her entire being for the first time in her long life. Guns stopped firing for a moment to cool down, the heavy metal leg of the machine raised high and ready to squash her. She fired arrow after arrow, fear and helplessness sinking deeper into her heard every time an arrow would bounce off the hard shell of the machine.
"This is it." She thought.
"I hope at least some of my troops escaped."
Guns sped their rotation up again, preparing to leave only examples, not survivors. Eirlys screamed in fury as the leg of the machine began to drop down on her.
"ENOUGH!" A voice boomed through the night, shaking the ground and the general to her core.
The machine stopped, just for a second, before being hit from the side by a massive rock shaped like a cone. It toppled over, its mechanical cries of death echoing for a while longer as it spilled its black, flammable blood and desperately tried to get back up. Eirlys turned to first to her right, her heart overcome with relief as she witnessed all her troops, alive and well, kneeling on the ground in reverence.
Turning to her left, she dropped to her knees to join them.
"Your Holiness."
Night became as bright as day, while a single person slowly made its way to the outpost. Her entire presence exuding an aura of power and wisdom worth millennia. Glowing like the brightest star, the leader of the High Elves came to the general's rescue in their time of need.
Simply extending her arm and pointing at the portal gate, then clenching her fist while turning her hand, the portal closed, cutting off the second machine that was slowly getting through in half. The energy feedback made the generators explode. Still, despite such an overwhelming show of force, the remaining humans in the outpost still opened fire on her.
The High Elf was not amused in the slightest.
"Perish from my sight, vile vermin." She hissed, before a ball of fire dropped onto the outpost, swallowing everyone in alive whole.
"On your feet General. I have much to discuss with your king, take me to him." The radiant woman ordered.

***
Solon caught up with Sheela, as the pair now ran through the empty village streets with a furious mob of mercenaries, adventurers and village folk coming after them.
"What are we to do? Can't run forever." The soldier said, rounding another corner in hoped of losing their pursuers.
"To the caravan resting area, that might be our only escape." The genie said, grabbing him by the cloak and running with him down yet another alley.
"What happened to the kid?"
"He'll be fine. Just a little headache when he wakes up." Solon assured her, as the boy dangled off his shoulder like a bag of potatoes while he ran.
Finally making it to the rest area, they hopped in the first wagon that seemed empty and was actually still attached to the horse like creatures that pulled it.
"Hiyah! Mush! Move, go. Cmon!" Solon yelled, pulling and moving the reigns that controlled the animals, but none of them bothered to move.
"Ooooh fuuuck!" The mercenary looked over his shoulder at the mob approaching.
Sheela grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him back into the wagon as she grabbed the reigns.
A deep breath, focusing as best possible to channel her magic, the feeling still foreign and alien to her.
"Ahk'Am! Akash, jan!" The forger genie shouted.
Like possessed, the animals jumped to their feet and began to move. A light jog turned into a mad gallop, kicking up a cloud of dust. Solon ducked as daggers and bricks flew past the wagon, thrown by the furious arena mob that was now left behind, as the wagon disappeared from sight, heading towards the desert.
"Where do we go now?" Solon asked.
"I don't know. We got out of there safe. As for where next, let's ask the kid when he wakes up." Sheela sighed and sat down.
***
(Hi. I'm back with another chapter. The support from all over is a true delight and really makes me want to keep this series going.
I want to thank Agro Squirrel Narrations for covering some of my work before, so more people can enjoy it. That goes for all other narration channels that have been given my permission to narrate some of my work.
Feel free to check me out on:
Royal Road Scribble Hub Patreon
Thank you for your kind and encouraging words, I hope you enjoy reading these as much as I enjoy writing them. Have a lovely day.)
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2024.05.22 20:23 Due_Explanation6839 The voice in the mirror

Chapter 1: The First Whisper

Imagine waking up in the middle of the night to the sound of your own voice calling your name. That’s exactly what happened to me last Friday. I live alone, but there it was, clear as day, my own voice echoing through the dark hallway.
“Jason…” The whisper was unmistakable. My heart pounded as I sat up in bed, my eyes darting around the room. My name echoed through the dark hallway, clear as day. But I live alone.
I listened intently, straining to hear any other sounds. Was it just my imagination? I shook my head, trying to dismiss the irrational fear creeping up my spine. But there it was again.
“Jason…”
I had to know where it was coming from. I slipped out of bed, my feet hitting the cold wooden floor. The house was eerily silent except for the whisper of my name. I tiptoed towards the door, peering into the dark hallway. Every instinct told me to turn back, but curiosity—or perhaps something more—compelled me forward.
The air grew colder with each step, and the shadows seemed to grow darker and more menacing. I reached the top of the staircase and peered down into the pitch-black void of the lower floor. My heartbeat echoed in my ears as I slowly descended, gripping the banister tightly.
“Jason…”
The voice was coming from the basement. I rarely ventured down there. It was a place filled with old memories and forgotten items, covered in dust and cobwebs. I hesitated at the basement door, my hand trembling as I reached for the light switch. The bulb flickered to life, casting a dim, yellowish glow over the wooden steps.
With a deep breath, I made my way down. The basement smelled musty and old, a stark contrast to the rest of the house. The voice grew louder, more insistent. My own voice.
“Jason…”
I followed the sound to the far corner of the basement, where an old, dusty mirror stood propped against the wall. It was an antique, something I had inherited from my grandmother but never had the heart to throw away. The mirror’s surface was clouded with age, but my reflection stared back at me, eerily clear.
Something was terribly wrong. My reflection wore a twisted, sinister grin—a grin that I wasn’t wearing. It raised its hand and pointed behind me. I turned slowly, my heart pounding in my chest, to see nothing but empty darkness.
When I looked back at the mirror, my reflection was gone. In its place was a message, written in what looked like blood: “You’re not alone.”

Chapter 2: The Growing Fear

From that night on, the whisper haunted me. Every night at midnight, my own voice called out to me, growing louder and more insistent. I tried to ignore it, to convince myself it was just a nightmare or a figment of my imagination. But deep down, I knew something was terribly wrong.
The nights became a blur of sleeplessness and fear. I avoided the basement at all costs, locking the door and pretending it didn’t exist. But the whisper persisted, relentless and unforgiving.
I started seeing things out of the corner of my eye—shadows moving where there shouldn’t be any, flickers of light in the darkness. My reflection in mirrors seemed to have a life of its own, sometimes not quite matching my movements, as if it were a fraction of a second out of sync.
One particularly sleepless night, I decided to do some research. I scoured the internet for anything that could explain what was happening. Stories of haunted mirrors, spirits, and doppelgängers filled my screen. Most were dismissed as urban legends or horror fiction, but some felt disturbingly real.
One story, in particular, caught my eye. It was about a man who had experienced something similar—a voice calling his name, a malevolent reflection, messages written in blood. The story ended with the man’s disappearance, his house found empty with only a broken mirror left behind.
I couldn’t help but feel a chill run down my spine. Was I next? Was this some kind of curse? I needed answers, and I needed them fast.

Chapter 3: Seeking Help

Desperate for help, I confided in my friend Sarah. She was skeptical at first, but the fear in my eyes must have convinced her to take me seriously.
“You need to get rid of that mirror,” she said firmly after I told her everything. “Whatever is happening, it’s connected to that thing.”
I nodded, knowing she was right but dreading the thought of facing it again. Together, we made a plan to get rid of the mirror the next day.
That night, I could barely sleep. The whisper was louder than ever, and the sense of dread was overwhelming. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, waiting for the first light of dawn.
When morning finally came, Sarah arrived with a sledgehammer and a determined look on her face. We went down to the basement together, my heart racing with each step.
The mirror stood there, seemingly innocent but radiating a palpable sense of malevolence. I hesitated, but Sarah didn’t. She swung the sledgehammer with all her might, shattering the glass into a thousand pieces.
For a moment, there was silence. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders. But then, the whisper returned.
“Jason…”
It was louder than ever, reverberating through the basement. The shards of the broken mirror began to move, swirling and coalescing into a shape—a dark, shadowy figure that seemed to suck the light out of the room.
Sarah and I stumbled back, watching in horror as the figure solidified, taking on a form that was disturbingly familiar. It was me—or rather, a twisted, malevolent version of me.
“Jason… You can’t get rid of me that easily,” it hissed, its voice a distorted echo of my own.

Chapter 4: The Mirror's Secret

The realization hit me like a ton of bricks. The mirror was not the source of the haunting; it was merely a conduit, a gateway for whatever malevolent entity had latched onto me. Destroying it had only freed the entity from its confines, allowing it to manifest more fully in my world.
Sarah and I fled the basement, slamming the door behind us. We sat in the living room, our minds racing as we tried to comprehend what had just happened.
“We need to find out more about that mirror,” Sarah said finally, breaking the silence. “There has to be a way to stop this thing.”
I nodded, my mind already turning to the few memories I had of the mirror’s origins. My grandmother had always been secretive about it, insisting it was a family heirloom with a long and mysterious history. But she had never spoken of anything supernatural.
We decided to visit my grandmother’s old house, hoping to find some clues about the mirror’s origins. The house had been abandoned since her passing, but the memories of my childhood visits were still fresh in my mind.
The house was just as I remembered it, a quaint, old-fashioned home filled with antique furniture and knickknacks. We searched through her belongings, looking for anything that could shed light on the mirror’s history.
In the attic, we found a dusty old trunk filled with my grandmother’s journals. As we flipped through the pages, one entry caught our attention. It was dated decades ago, and detailed a strange encounter she had had with the mirror.
“My grandmother always told me never to look into the mirror at night,” the entry read. “She said it was a portal, a gateway to another world. She believed that something evil lived on the other side, waiting for its chance to break through.”
The entry went on to describe how my grandmother had acquired the mirror from a mysterious antique dealer who warned her of its dark history. The dealer claimed it was crafted by a sorcerer who used it to trap malevolent spirits, but over time, the spirits had grown stronger, seeking a way to escape.
Sarah and I exchanged a worried glance. It seemed we were dealing with something far more dangerous than we had imagined.

Chapter 5: Confronting the Darkness

Armed with this new knowledge, we knew we had to find a way to banish the entity once and for all. Sarah suggested we seek help from a paranormal expert, someone who might know how to deal with such malevolent spirits.
We found a local expert named Dr. Emily Hastings, who specialized in hauntings and supernatural occurrences. She listened to our story with a calm, professional demeanor, but I could see the concern in her eyes.
“This entity has been bound to your family for generations,” she explained. “Destroying the mirror was a start, but it’s not enough. We need to perform a ritual to sever its connection to you and banish it back to where it came from.”
Dr. Hastings instructed us to gather certain items for the ritual: a circle of salt for protection, candles, and a sacred text she provided that contained the incantations we would need. We prepared everything meticulously, knowing that any mistake could be disastrous.
The night of the ritual, we gathered in the basement, where the shattered remnants of the mirror still lay. The atmosphere was thick with tension, the air heavy with anticipation. We formed a circle of salt around us, lit the candles, and began the incantations.
As we chanted, the air grew colder, and the shadows deepened. The entity appeared again, its form a swirling mass of darkness that began to take on a more defined shape—a grotesque, twisted version of myself.
“Jason…” it hissed, its voice a distorted echo of my own. “You
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2024.05.22 14:34 astrobabag Discover the power of Mohini Vashikaran Yantra

Discover the power of Mohini Vashikaran Yantra
Mohini Vashikaran Yantra
Particularly Mohini Vashikaran Yantra Tantra is one of the oldest forms with an aim of vashikaran where the target is to put some magic on the mind and feelings of another person. Vashikaran means ‘control’. Mohini Vashikaran Yantra is very powerful and old form of Tantra Mantra which is used as an image to trap the particular person or to make them obedient to the practitioner.
What is a Yantra?
A ‘Yantra’ is usually a metallic device and is used to worship gods and goddesses and is used as an altar through which divine forces can be channeled in the form of blessings towards the purposes for which the god or goddess represented by the yantra has been invoked. There are those that are taken by Tantrics to enable perform miracles and obtain material wealth. Yantra shape also has some figures and written hymns that may pass or store the spiritual energy if prayed. This implies that the yantra diagram represents a specific deity of the Hindu pantheon divinities.
As we know the Mohini Vashikaran Yantra is one of the powerful yantras in the Vedic astrology it is used to influence the person that is loved.
The Mohini Vashikaran Yantra is associated with Goddess Mohini, who is depicted as the deity of affection and is considered as the feminine form of Lord Vishnu and also known as Goddess of lovers. According to the mythology, in order to stop the demons from drinking the elixir of life called Amrita, the Mohini relied on external ornaments and persuasion.
When chanted in harmony with the practices and regulations of vedas, this great yantra shines with tremendous vashikaran influence that will subdue the persona and then slowly and gradually hypnotise the particular individual and make it difficult for that given person to resist the chain of thoughts. Nevertheless, each magical numerology and incantation has a pattern on how to program the mind of the particular individual.
Once it is placed after the correct ritual, the yandtra radiates magnetic fields with high magnetic pull that attracts the target person into the desperation trap as intended by the one who wants to control the target. This works on the subject person in the way that he or she feels a common attitude of affection towards the influencer at first glance.
In the house, the yantra is installed in the South – West corner in case there is a place of worship otherwise it is installed there, and the Tantra is recited to awaken the yantra. These could be with the products like rose water, rice grains, sindoor, honey, paan leaves etc and singing of mantras. The native then visualizes in his or her mind that the empowerment of yantra will serve as a cure and enable him or her to enchant and dominate a specific person. It means that the power in the yantra builds up as the procedures performed on the emblem are chanted repeatedly honestly.
Mohini yantra is something that talks about the vashikaran and the way a mystical force works which could be used to attract or to have positive impact over particular people in an absolutely moral manner. The benefits include:
  • The social factors influencing tastes and preferences include courting and appealing other people.
  • Some sort of conflicts resolved with the husband, wife or boyfriend-girlfriend
  • Jealousy and fidelity that one may have towards their partner
  • Stability and maintenance of relations: The concepts of peace and understanding
  • Others involve overtures of becoming more assertive and self-promoting, simply in order to capture the attention and admiration of others.
  • Here are some techniques that you can apply to overcome your opponent in any case that is taking place in a court.
  • McKenna and Vergara posited that self promotion is a process by which one flags himself or herself to the management in his or her work place.
  • Dispositions of business acquisitions and contracts and related deals
  • All people want to become wealthy and hence the investment in the turtle in order to attract wealth into ones life.
This means that each of the benefits can be achieved through attraction and there is Mohini Vashikaran Yantra which, if worshipped in the long term, can offer this benefit. Even one cannot escape the rigidity of pretending no more because even Mohini, the Goddess of attraction makes people fall in love with you.
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2024.05.22 14:20 OrlonDogger A Witch at Midnight - Chapter 20

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The halls of the Alchemist’s inner library were flowing with the scent of burning incense sticks. Mustafá herself had never really cared for the mystical ambience so many other magicians favored, all the smoke and mirrors, the flashy silks and the sparkly crystal balls, but she couldn’t really deny their use when it came to matters of the soul. She despised working on her own decaying, dwindling flame, but she knew that it was a process she needed to repeat every three months or so.

To ignore it for longer proved not only damaging to her health, but also terrible for her mental faculties; and as much as she was willing to sacrifice her own well being for the pursuit of her craft, her mind was something she was not willing to compromise. So, after spending some time watching her hermit crabs and reading a few old books, she decided it was finally time to feed the hearth of her soul some fuel.

So there she was, in the very center of her beloved library, right where many bookshelf hallways converged into a perfectly circular section. She sat cross legged on the secret spiraling circle she had designed specifically for this purpose, runes long forgotten by the world now traced on the floor's dark rock, accompanied by exactly eight candles positioned in an octagon contained within the circle. This configuration alone was enough to make the air feel dense.

It got even worse when Mustafá actually lit the candles. The energy, normally thin and flowing in the air, now began to converge on the circle which the alchemist sat upon; vibrating octarine light seeped through the carvings like water through the cracks of a ship breaking down. Bubbling, foaming, rising like fat drops of magic from the floor to the ceiling…it was a dangerous sign. If the mage didn’t keep a close eye on the balance of energy, on how magic flowed around her and through her, it could easily overwhelm and break through the tears in reality she was making.

She was used to this process, to the risks that it entailed, but not even she was prideful and foolish enough to ignore them or take them for granted. Every time she borrowed energy from the Infinite to rekindle her own life force, she was risking not only ending her own life, but many others as well, in an explosion beyond anything mankind had seen so far.

It all could be so, so much easier if she simply sacrificed a few lives. Five beloved pets, a dozen pieces of cattle that no one cared for. One or two humans.

But no. She refused in principle, not out of love for humanity but out of… of…

Fear.

She would never admit it to anyone but herself, but despite being as irresponsible and unethical as the people with the cloaks would say, she had set her own limits at consuming the souls of others.

She had seen what this path led to, how the sensation of extinguishing a life and stealing it from the very Cycle of Existence changed a person, usually for the worse.

Mustafá was her own person. With all the flaws and hardships that implied. She would not be consumed by such base cravings and feelings. She would remain herself to the day she died.

At least, this is what she had been repeating to herself for centuries now.

“... I am… stalling?”

The alchemist finally catches herself thinking in such morbid directions, just wasting precious time she could be using in the ritual. The effects of her soul’s decay were definitely getting to her.

With a deep breath, the mage stretched and repositioned herself within the circle-octagon. She held her hands together and held the air inside her lungs until her head felt light, and only then she let go with a slow, deep whisper…

The words she spoke were fast, crisp, and practiced. Her lips moved at great speeds as she recited the incantation in the Language of the Gods.

Such knowledge had also been lost with time… maybe for the best.

The energy of the world, precious flowing mana, changed direction and began swirling around the mage, just as her lungs grew emptier and emptier as she held the ludicrously long words on her lips.

Then, she paused.

This was the trickiest part of the spell. Before all that mana could escape, Mustafá took another deep breath, forcing it deep into her lungs. A literal breath of lifeforce was absorbed by her body. Her soul, a mere smouldering ember by then, suddenly burst with amazing power right then, turning into a pyre so big it was almost visible as a pale blue aura around the woman.

In that instant she was one with everything, she was breathing just like the planet did, feeling the pain of pollution and disrepair aching on her body like a thousand cramps that almost forced her to curl, but she resisted it. Right as it was about to become unbearable, as sweat dripped down her dark skin, she began the new incantation. The one that severed this connection.

Slowly, gently, she cut the threads that now bound her to Jericho itself, and the pain subsided. She had succeeded, once again stealing a negligible part of the planet’s life for herself. Somewhere in the world a flower shriveled too soon, a tree lost some of its leaves…

Now, came the convenient but oh-so-unpleasant side-effect. Right as energy stopped flowing, and the liquid octarine light of the circle itself stopped dripping upwards, Mustafá had to open her eyes. With a hurting body and an unprepared psyche, she forced herself to go through with it; once she opened even the slightest of ways, it was too late: magic forced her eyelids open in its escape from her body.

It felt like torrents of thick, luminous water, pushing out of her eyes and spilling all around her before dissipating. While this all happened, Mustafá was temporarily granted the gift of prophecy.

And the visions of the North Pole would begin once again.

She saw the mist rising after the final smite of the Gods striking Jericho’s frozen soil, and then: shadows of many sizes and shapes began to form from the darkness that had accumulated in this world. All the fear, the ill will, the anger and the sadness of an entire world manifested in the shape of creatures humanity had not seen since the dawn of the Age of Silence.

All of them hellbent on the destruction of the world that had banished them.

After that, there was little that could be done. Sleepers were not equipped to deal with such a menace, the secret of magic would be revealed and thus, the sorcery of man would lose its light.

She saw people of all nations joining and trying to face this danger together, a little too late for it to be truly a factor.

The world would be set aflame, and then consumed by Oblivion.

The visions had become foreboding and repetitive with time, Mustafá had analyzed each one carefully in her mind at this point, trying to find clues to stop the coming of this catastrophe: The Second Sacrifice.

Nothing had changed this time… except that, for an instant, it did. Mustafá herself trembled, as she saw another figure abandoning the mist, a small figure wearing an old black and white dress, a cape and a witch hat a little too big for her own head. The figure smiled, addressing the observing mage directly.

“H… Humiko…!?”

The alchemist instinctively reached out. The woman in her visions held a finger to her lips for a moment, asking for silence, before pulling something from under her cape. An old, weathered leather book. Simple at first, but then under the right light, the weavings of a particularly powerful magic could be seen.

Mustafá stared at it intently, memorizing its form, the patterns in the old cover, every crack on its back…until suddenly, the vision was no more.

She was lying on the floor once more, the candles snuffed, the floor still a mess of raw, slowly fading octarine light. The alchemist slowly stood back up, cleaning the tears and the sweat off her face and taking a deep, clean breath. Her throat was sore, burning, but she knew it would fade as well.

This wasn’t the time to dwell on the pain of her physical vessel, especially not now that her soul was burning as brightly as any other. She would be fine no matter what, so all this time was better used to comprehend her vision. What was Humiko doing there? Was this a way to communicate from beyond the veil of Death? It was not unheard of that a few particularly enduring souls could leave messages and even create new ones on the other side.

But it was also not impossible for visions to be tainted with the thoughts of an individual, and thanks to a certain undesirable, she had been remembering her old friend these days. There was a non-zero possibility that this vision had been a fluke. After all, when Humiko died, she had taken all the tomes the huntress had accumulated and added them to her own collection! And none of them resembled the book she had seen.

… Did they?

Damn it, now she had to perform a full-on scan to make sure she was remembering correctly.

The strange book in her vision could have been an invention of her subconscious, a mere fabrication, a hallucination! Or it could also be a sign, a message left by Humiko in preparation for the Second Sacrifice.

The possibilities were, again, non-zero.

So, she had to prepare for all possible scenarios. She had not survived this far making assumptions!

And so, as her body recovered its energies and her legs stopped trembling, she went straight to the section of the library where the tomes written by Humiko Suzumura had been sealed. There were quite a few, each a treasure trove on how to face the few remnants of supernatural activity left in the world after the Great Exodus

Manuals on the calming of angry spirits, the costumes of a few supernatural communities, the antidote to many a magical ailment. This was the kind of folk knowledge that had once been abundant around Jericho, now completely lost due to the actions of the Brotherhood.

All for the sake of keeping humanity on ‘the right track’.

“Bah.”

Mustafá was still a bit emotional from the encounter with wild magic. At least, more emotional than usual… she had to shrug off the impulse of swearing loudly in contempt of the Brotherhood’s creed.

She understood it and was aware that technology would have never advanced as much as it did if not for them. But she still found it lacking and restrictive. Worst was the absolute disrespect they felt for her. They treated her like a geriatric mess, a dementia-riddled ancient remnant of the old world, too powerful to be erased, so instead they chose to keep her busy with their trivial chores and inane questions…

Sigh. Best to try and focus on the job once more.

One by one she took the precious, old books… all of them had the same leather binding, but none of them looked quite like the one the alchemist had seen in her vision. They all looked older, much more weathered, without the intricate patterns that one tome had had. They were not as protected as that tome had been.

She took a few hours to look over each book in the Humiko section, amplified by the time-warping effects of the L-Space… and yet she found nothing, not a single one fit for her search. With another grumbling sigh, Mustafá decided to simply let go of all work for the day and returned to her ‘cage’, the old apartment where she was kept.

Back in her room, she looked around herself. She felt restless, not even in the mood to observe her crabs. Instead, she simply floated over to the tiny round window, unique in the whole room, to observe the city of Obuda.

Life was still going, so simple, so rushed, so uncaring of the impending doom encroaching around them… Mustafá watched, and she wondered.

“Should I feel envy of the Sleeper? She who does not know a thing and simply goes by the motions of life without a worry about the true matters of this world?”

She meditated on it for a moment.

She then decided that no. She would much rather be a mage.

But it did get tiresome sometimes.
submitted by OrlonDogger to HFY [link] [comments]

2024.05.22 05:33 Lintar0 Buddhism in Indonesia: Recent History and Current Developments (also Buddhism AMA)

Buddhism in Indonesia: Recent History and Current Developments (also Buddhism AMA)
Waisak is upon us, and I figured that I would continue my yearly tradition of making Buddhism AMAs after several years of absence. Besides being an AMA, this post also contains an essay about the recent history of Buddhism in Indonesia.
This post will be a continuation of my previous posts regarding Buddhism as practiced by ethnic Javanese in Modern Indonesia, which I have written 3 years ago. However, that post covers the history of Buddhism in Java (and by extension in Indonesia) from the Classical Age of Hindu-Buddhist Kingdoms to the present day, while this post will focus more on the period at the start of the 20th Century (“the Buddhist Revival”) until today’s contemporary age of Social Media.
This post will be divided into several sections:
  1. Brief Introduction on Buddhsim in Indonesia
  2. The Buddhist Revival of the early 20th Century
  3. The Communist Killings and Mass Conversions of the 60’s
  4. The 21st Century – Thriving in Social Media
  5. Conclusions

1. Brief Introduction on Buddhism in Indonesia

If you haven’t read my previous post regarding Buddhism as practiced by ethnic Javanese in Modern Indonesia, I highly recommend you to do so before reading this post. However, if you don’t have time to, this section will provide a short introduction of Buddhism in Indonesia, an especially among ethnic Javanese.
There is a stereotype among Indonesians that Buddhism is only practiced by ethnic Chinese. While for the most part, this is true, (out of almost 1,7 million Buddhists, 1,4 are ethnic Chinese), this is not the full picture. People are often surprised when they find entire villages in the mountains of Central and Eastern Java populated by Javanese Buddhists. According to Demography of Indonesia's Ethnicity (Ananta et al., 2015), in the year 2010 more than 90 thousand ethnic Javanese Buddhists were recorded in the census. For example, this is a video of an ethnic Javanese Budhist village in Central Java. This is not to mention Buddhists from other ethnic groups such as Sasaks and Dayaks.
Javanese villagers receive monks in their temple
Now you might be wondering, what is the significance of ethnic Javanese practicing Buddhism? To make a long story short, the Javanese serve as an important link between Indonesia’s Hindu-Budddhist past and Indonesia’s current multireligious and Pancasila-based present. Indonesia’s ancient kingdoms left behind many temples and writings relating to Hinduim as well as Buddhism. Many quintessentially Javanese practices and philosophies, such as meditation and wayang kulit stories, have their origins in Java’s Hindu-Buddhist past. Last, but not least, it was the ethnic Javanese, who along with Peranakan Chinese and Europeans, who helped to “revive” Buddhism in Indonesia during the early 20th Century.

2. The Buddhist Revival of the 20th Century

After the fall of the Majapahit Kingdom in the early 16th Century, Buddhism became “dormant” in Java. I use the term “dormant” because while the vast majority of Javanese did not practice Buddhism, certain Buddhistic philosophies and rituals became embedded in Javanese culture and are continually practiced to this day.
As an example, some Javanese, especially those interested in Javanism (Kejawen) and spirituality, stress the importance of semedi (meditation). This is a legacy of both Buddhism and Hinduism which encourages their followers to practice meditation as a way of spiritual and mental purification. Besides that, the Javanese (and by, extension, Malay/Indonesian) term for fasting is “poso” (puasa). This is not the Arabic word which is used to refer to the Muslim obligation of fasting (“sawm”), but instead, it derives from the Sanskrit “upavasatha”. Hindus and Buddhists have a tradition of fasting during nights of the Full Moon or New Moon, which is called “uposatha” in Theravada Buddhist countries.
Thus, during the 16th-to late 19th centuries, Buddhism had been slumbering in the land of Java. However, Java’s colonial masters would uncover the island’s ancient Hindu-Buddhist temples. Among them was Borobudur, the largest Buddhist temple in the world, built in the 8th Century when Indonesia was in the midst of its Classical Hindu-Buddhist Era.
Although the Europeans originally came to Asia as colonisers, the interaction between different cultures and religions fascinated them. The British, French and Dutch in particular were fascinated by the histories of their colonial possessions and proceeded to study them. Some Europeans even became sympathetic with the natives and tried to help them to resist the colonisers’ efforts to convert them to Christianity.
These Europeans would found an organisation called the Theosophical Society. Now, the beliefs of the Theosophical Society are quite complex, and each individual member had their own individual beliefs/religions. But to oversimplify, the Theosophical Society believed that all religions had a piece of the truth and that they all must be studied and respected. Their motto was “There is no religion higher than Truth”. Many members of the Society did, however, prefer to study Eastern Religions such as Hinduism and Buddhism, as well as older European philosophies such as Neoplatonism and Occultism.
The Society was formed in British India, but soon spread around Asia due to the colonical connections forged by the British Empire. Soon sections of the Society sprouted in places such as British Ceylon (Sri Lanka) British Singapore, and from there, to Dutch Java. One of the society’s founders, Madame Helena Blavatsky, was particularly fascinated with Borobudur and even came to Java. The Society attracted members of all races: Europeans, Indians, Ceylonese, Peranakan Chinese and even Javanese aristocrats. This process of “Trans-National Connections” is succinctly described and explained in Yulianti’s Book: The Making of Buddhism in Modern Indonesia.
Yulianti describes how the Society was very interested in “reviving” Buddhism in Java, and so they used their resources to foster the growth of the Buddhist community there. They did this by several ways, such as by disseminating magazines, books and articles regarding Buddhism, holding regular meetings in big cities such as Batavia and Surabaya, inviting monks and speakers from other Buddhist countries, and so forth.
Members of the Mataram Lodge of the Theosophical Society travelling to Borobudur Temple in 1925
The efforts of the society bore fruit, as by the early 1900’s, there were a considerable number of native Javanese, Peranakan Chinese and some Europeans who identified as Buddhists. Most notably, when the restoration of Borobudur was finally completed, they were able to organise Indonesia’s first modern day Vesak (Waisak) celebrations.

3. The Communist Killings and Mass Conversions of the 60’s

The mid-20th Century was a turbulent time for Indonesia as well as the entire world. Indonesia experienced the devastation of the Japanese invasion and occupation, the struggle for independence from the Dutch, as well as subsequent rebellions. However, one event which impacted the religious landscape in Indonesia was the so-called GS30 PKI coup and the subsequent anti-Communist killings.
This post willl not be dedicated the fully explain the background of GS30 PKI nor the anti-Communist killings, as they are too complex and nuanced to do so in a single post. However, I will try to give an overimplified description of the situation prior to the coup, especially as related through Clifford’ Geertz’s famous book: The Religion of Java.
According to Geertz, the Javanese were divided into 3 communities: the Abangan who were the rural masses and were often poor, the Santri who were the most Islamically pious, and the Priyai who were the elites and nobility. Spiritually, most Priyayi enjoyed classical Hindu-Javanese culture and many of them were part of Kebatinan organisations. The Abangan practiced ancient Javanese rituals that were influenced by native Javanese, Hindu and Muslim practices but were generally not too concerned with religion. The Santri were the most concerned with Islam and made a living out of teaching religion as well as commerce.
Prior to 1965, the political situation in Indonesia was tense. President Soekarno’s “guided democracy” regime tried to balance off the different factions through his ideology of NASAKOM: Nasionalisme, Agama & Komunisme. However, in reality the different factions hated each other. Among the Javanese, Communism was particularly popular among the Abangans. Meanwhile, the Santri were generally wealthier and many of them owned large tracts of land, thus they considered the Communists as a threat.
When the so-called communist coup of GS30 PKI failed and the Army led a counter-coup, the Nationalists and the Religious took this opportunity to massacre Communists and even “suspected” Communists, which in many cases were innocent people.
Prior to that, many Abangan Javanese were considered nominal Muslims and/or were part of “New Religions” that sprung up all around Java. There is a thesis by Puji Sulani (2023) titled “Konstruksi Identitas Agama Buddha Wong Jawa Banyumasan di Eks-Keresidenan Banyumas Tahun 1965-1998” which tells the story of the Abangan in the Banyumas region who were part of a religious organisation called “Kawula Warga Naluri (KWN)”, a mystical pseudo-Islamic religious movement founded in the early 20th Century with esoteric teachings.
After the New Order took over power in 1965, there was an even greater pressure for Indonesians to register themselves under an “official” religion instead of their local beliefs. Otherwise, they could risk being labelled as Communists and risk imprisonment, or even death. Thus, Sulani’s thesis recounts the process of the Banyumasan Abangan Javanese who were formerly part of KWN and then were forced to pick a state-sanctioned religion.
An Executive Order from 1965 condemning so-called \"deviant sects\" and religions which are not officially recognised by the Indonesian State
Due to their desire to connect with their Javanese Hindu-Buddhist past, as well as their interactions with the Indonesian Buddhist Revivalists who were active in Java’s biggest cities, thousands of Banyumasan Abangan Javanese converted to Buddhism. This process also occurred in many other parts of Java, and the conversions to Indonesia’s other official religions happened, such as to Islam, Christianity or Hinduism. But for the purposes of this post, we shall focus on conversions to Buddhism.
Thus, there was an influx of “registered” Buddhists in Indonesia, particularly in Java. To the best of my knowledge, the areas with the most amounts of Javanese Buddhist villages in Central Java are: the Banyumas area of Java’s southern coast, the mountains of Temanggung Regency, the mountains of Semarang Regency, several areas in Java’s Northern Coast such as Jepara, and many more. There are also many such villages in East Java, as well as in Lampung where many Javanese transmigrants live.
These new Buddhist communities were instructed on the religion by the Indonesian Buddhist Revivalists which I have talked about in the previous section. The Buddhist Revivalists, who were mainly based in the big cities, sent monks and teachers to the villages in Java. As a prominent example, we have Parwati Soepangat, a Javanese Priyayi who hails from a Buddhist family from the Surakarta Keraton. She was very active in teaching Buddhism throughout the villages in Java, and at one point she was the head of the largest and most active Buddhist Women’s organisation in Indonesia (Wanita Buddhis Indonesia, WBI). This cultural interaction helped to shape Buddhist Javanese cultures and traditions which still are carried out to this day.

4. The 21st Century - Thriving in Social Media

After the events of 1965, the Javanese Buddhist community, and by extension, the Indonesian Buddhist community, had its ups and downs. Even though at its peak, the population of Indonesian Buddhists only reached 1% of the country’s population, you have to keep in mind that Indonesia is the 4th largest country in the world.
Various Buddhist organisations of various traditions and cultures sprung up all over the country. You could have Buddhists temples conducting services and rituals in various languages such as Pali, Sanskrit, Javanese, Chinese, Tibetan, Japanese, Tamil etc. Despite the diversity of different streams and traditions of Buddhism(s) practiced in Indonesia, Buddhists are generally united, especially when it comes to Waisak celebrations.
One notable tool that Indonesian Buddhists have taken advantage of during the last 10 years has been the internet and social media. Whereas before, Buddhists who lived in the villages were somewhat isolated from Buddhists who lived in the big cities, the availability of platforms such as Zoom and Youtube allowed new connections to be forged.
An interesting side effect of Indonesian Buddhism’s activity in social media has been that lately, especially in 2023 leading up to Waisak, Indonesian Buddhists have become famous in Indonesian mainstream social media as well. I attribute this phenomenon to two things in particular: Bhante Dhirapuñño and the Thudong Bhikkhus.
For those who don’t know, Bhante Dhirapuñño is a Buddhist monk who is a friend of Habib Jafar. He became popular in social media due to his regular appearances with Habib Jafar in social media, especially during Ramadhan in Jafar and Onad’s YouTube show “Log In”. Due to Dhirapuñño’s easygoing personality and his great chemistry with Habib Jafar, he has become somewhat famous in Indonesian social media.
Habib Jafar and Onad regularly invite Bhante Dhirapuñño on their show
The second event which made headlines last year was the Thudong Bhikkhus: a group of dozens of Buddhist monks from Thailand, Malaysia, Singapore and Indonesia who walked on foot for several days from Jakarta to Borobudur to celebrate Waisak. During their trip, they were greeted and cheered by the local Indonesians of the cities that they passed by. It was a great show of interreligious and international solidarity, and it went viral on social media for a few weeks. In fact, the Thudong ritual is also being conducted this year as well, but the route is shorter: they started from Semarang and have arrived in Borobudur a few days ago. This year, they will celebrate Waisak in Jambi Province, where the ancient temples of Muaro Jambi reside.
The Thudong Bhikkhus are greeted and cheered on by local Indonesians during their long walk to Borobudur
Another notable Buddhist organisation in Indonesia is Tzu Chi. It is a humanitarian organisation whose headquarters are located in Taiwan, and it focuses on getting aid during natural disasters. The headquarters of the Indonesian Branch of Tzu Chi is located in Pantai Indah Kapuk (PIK). There was a rather infamous incident in 2022 when an earthquake struck Cianjur, West Java. Tzu Chi quickly set up tents in Cianjur to give out aid to the locals who were affected in the ford of food, supplies and medicine. However, some irresponsible folk apparently couldn’t stand the sight of tents bearing the text “Yayasan Buddha Tzu Chi Indonesia” and proceeded to vandalise them. Luckily, this intolerant behaviour quickly became viral and was condemned, and Tzu Chi could continue giving out aid.

5. Conclusions

Buddhism in Indonesia has had a long history, from its peak during the Classical Hindu-Buddhist Era, its slumber during the 16th-19th centuries, its revival in the 20th century, and now it is seeing new life in the 21st century with the help of social media. Although small in number, Indonesian Buddhists continue to play an important role in society as entrepreneurs, doctors, celebrities, as well as the custodians of Indonesia’s history and culture. It is during Waisak that Buddhists from all over Indonesia unite and celebrate the birth, enlightenment and passing away of the religion’s founder: Siddhartha Gautama.
Thank you for reading, if you have any questions, you may ask them in the comments below.
submitted by Lintar0 to indonesia [link] [comments]

2024.05.21 23:26 Abucketofmug My very big issues with Link vs Tarnished (Giant ass rant incoming)

My very big issues with Link vs Tarnished (Giant ass rant incoming)
My issues with Link vs Tarnished
By Abucketofmug
https://preview.redd.it/rpg5a4z0ju1d1.jpg?width=1000&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=771f8ea5d0a86a64884ec26ec7ff4ac1607c0149
Note to keep in mind:
This is not a debunk, nor is it meant to say “I hate this matchup and you should too!”. I know this community has had an issue with debunks and I unfortunately decided to make this at a time where people are getting sick of debunks. So let me just say this is all my opinion, and that what I say is not meant to kill this matchup or debunk it. If you want to enjoy it despite what I say, all power to you. I am entitled to my opinion as much as anyone else is to theirs.
And now onto the main event and I will be talking about this with one part at a time. With the first being connections/thematics.
Part 1: The flimsy connections
Here are the most up to date and recent connections I could find. If there are better ones that I should use instead of this then feel free to tell me.
  • Heroic medieval silent fantasy protagonists of critically acclaimed massive open-world action RPG video games.
  • Both have very little memory of their pasts because of their amnesia, making their pasts all the more mysterious.
  • Guided by a maiden to help them save a decaying world (Zelda and Ranni The Witch)
  • Masterfully skilled at horse riding and mounted combat.
  • Mainly known for being master swordsman despite having a massive arsenal of both melee weapons and ranged weapons
  • Possessed a set of unique supernatural abilities (Link's Sheikah Slate/Champion Powers, and The Tarnished's Sorceries and Incantations)
  • Both heroes would use their gifts and talents to heroically help a woman with divine powers usurp control from the previous rulers who ruined said world into their hands and start a new age (Link helping Zelda stop Calamity Ganon and if you count the Age of Stars ending as the canon ending, Tarnished helps free Ranni The Witch and able to end age of evil in the Lands Between)
Now let me just say first I don’t think these are inherently wrong. This isn’t meant to be a debunk but I am going to talk about my issues with these connections as well as other aspects of this mu.
And I think from this some of you might start to see the issue. The connections have a case of being either generic as hell or interesting but still iffy. I feel this matchup tries to take a quality over quantity approach and fails at that as these connections while they do work do not go into either character at all. It doesn’t cover any of Link’s character and his struggles, drawing him to be some blank slate of a character which could not be further from the truth. And it doesn't cover any aspect of Elden Ring’s frankly amazing story. The connections you can call solid come off as stretches once you know the series and the main issue is that this doesn't at all cover Tears of the Kingdom, this matchup mainly only goes into Botw and doesn't go deeper into either of their respective characters or worlds.
It really just feels like “Oh they sure do be amnesiac swordsmen in open world fantasy games” and while this works decently as a main theme it fails to add anything of quality onto it which just leaves the connections feeling dry, even ignoring the fact that it doesn't cover Totk. And I’ve heard people say shit like “it’ll get better once Shadow of the Erdtree comes out!” but that is a huge maybe at best. And if your argument is that the connections might get better once Shadow of the Erdtree comes out then that’s not so much an argument as it is praying the DLC adds to the connections.
Part 2: The fight potential doing too much or not enough
Now I know this’ll piss some people off but I see absolutely nothing special about this fight potential. Don’t get me wrong it’s not bad so much as it’s just painfully mediocre. There are admittedly some interesting things one could do with this, and they both have 3D models that can work kinda well even if they clash a bit in art style and quality. And this can be a decent clash of weapons with some variety in it. But it really starts to fall flat once you consider their greater abilities, how these two fight, and the very existence of Totk.
These two at a base level can fight in some similar ways, but the pace of which is vastly different. A lot of the stuff that happens in botw and totk can be described as fast paced with you constantly running around and traversing the battlefield in many unique ways. Elden Ring is a fucking soulslike game and as such does not match that same level of pace you see Link at.
There can be work arounds but it usually boils down to making Link fight at a slower pace or Tarnished at a faster pace. So it’s either making Link a lot less interesting or straight up misrepresenting Tarnished. Which leads me into my next point which is that I see no way you can make this fight fluid while including everything Link gains in totk. The constructs just simply cannot play well off of anything Tarnished has and it leaves so much to be desired. Tarnished is just not that mobile, at least not enough to create a fluid animation between these two.
There are a few ways I can see this matchup working and they all has issues of its own. Here are the most notable.
  1. I’ve heard people mention you just use botw. But not only is that effectively cucking Link of a lot of his arsenal as well as half of his fucking story. But it only also leads back into my point that all this can really accomplish is some decent sword fighting with occasional weapon switches. Not bad but insanely lacking as well as failing to do Link justice.
  2. If you do use totk however then this entire matchup just turns into “Link’s matchup and also Tarnished is there I guess” and that just completely kills this matchup for me as these two are very interesting and I love both their games but they just can’t play off each other that well at all. With constructs, fuse, and the sage abilities this just makes it seem like Tarnished doesn't matter here which kills the whole point of all these matchups.
  3. “Comp them!” No… why would anyone do that? That ruins the connections and while it does help fight wise, it also shares the same issues to #2 in that it’s just Link stealing the show with Tarnished not getting much. As apart from his original game what does Tarnished have that will help with animation?
Part 3: Lack of anything meaningful character wise
Now I know this may fall into interaction and story potential in which case I know what you're thinking “Mug they're silent protagonists, that's the whole point” in which case I just ask you all to hear me out. While yes neither really talk for their own respective reasons there are still interactions one can have with silent protagonists. And I think the best example of this is any version of Link. Link the majority of the time is a bit mischievous and playful despite being a hero with nearly every iteration of him. And this Link is honestly such a great character in my eyes. But this matchup throws that out the window by having the currently best written version of Link have nothing to bounce off of character wise. But I suppose that's not an issue with the matchups quality. Just extreme missed potential.
Along with that this might just be me but I see no interesting way a fight between the two could start. To have in character reasons to want to fight does help a matchup, especially if you want to make a script or if someone animates it. But with how this matchup is I just can't see any way this can start without it just being a misunderstanding or pulling what Weiss vs Mistsuru did and have it start mid fight. And this shares the same issue I have with the rest of the mu, yeah it can technically work, but if this isn't the most boring and uninspired shit then I don’t know what is.
Part 4: The conclusion to this shit. AKA This matchup isn’t bad but man it needs work.
Let me just quickly recap my overall points. This'll be a tldr for those who don't feel like reading allat.
  1. This matchups, connections while not wrong are so uninspired and feel dry as hell. They don’t take Tears of the Kingdom into account and the connections that are of quality can even be considered stretches.
  2. The fight doesn't do what I’d like for either and to create a fluid fight you’re effectively forced to only use botw which sucks as you not only are removing Link’s most interesting arsenal and gear but it just draws this up to be a sword fight just with some more weapons added in.
  3. The lack of interactions in one of the most interesting, and entertaining versions of Link there is.
Do I think this is a bad matchup? No I don't. But I can't pretend like this isn't an incredibly mediocre matchup that does nothing interesting with either characters. If you want a good Hero of the Wild matchup then Aang is right there. And if you want a good Tarnished matchup… Well unfortunately I have yet to find a Tarnished matchup that has good connections. But Dark Urge is there if you want some good fight potential that portrays Tarnished in a better light. Truthfully I don't think I'll ever truly like this but if the connections got a solid revamp that'd greatly help this matchup.
I don't really know how to end this as I don't usually write this kinda stuff. So just have a good day I guess.
submitted by Abucketofmug to DeathBattleMatchups [link] [comments]

2024.05.21 10:37 adr826 The Book of Shadows

The last memory I had of my grandfather was hearing him scream as the the shadows in the field began to surround him with thin, web like fibers. Then my mother picked me up and ran with me in her arms back into our old farm house.
My last memory, that is until last night, when I awakened to a tinkling bell in an unknown vault so immense I couldn't see the walls or the ceiling. Far away I saw a dull light and heard the faint tinkling of a bell, incessantly ringing. I followed the sound till I could see him on a throne, which seemed to have merged with his body, leaving only his fingers free.
The acrid scent of burning wax and a lurking fear clung to the borders of the dream, if a dream it was. There, in the dim candle glow, sat my grandfather, his weathered face, a thousand years older than when I'd last seen him, etched with a desperate urgency. The same face I'd last seen contorted in a scream as he was swallowed by the shadows that had consumed him years ago.
"Elias," his voice, as dry as the dust that blanketed his entire body, said "You must listen. The darkness… it returns. Stronger this time." Terror struck my heart like a dagger, the memory of that horrifying night vivid even after all these years.
He pointed to a small table, on top of which lay an ancient leather book. "The Book of Repelling Shadows," he whispered. "Hidden all these years in my library… find the spell. You'll know it by the seven ravens on the preceding page. Recite it, Elias. It's the only way to banish the darkness and save yourself from my terrible fate. Go!!"
The dream dissolved, I awoke in a cold sweat, back in my bed. My heart pounded, like a drum, a rhythm of dread mixed with a sliver of desperate hope. I knew I must find the book or suffer the same choking embrace of eldritch shadows that had cursed our family for generations. Had my grandfather finally learned the secret to banish them forever? I had to find that book before they returned to claim me.
The book was, as He'd said it would be, in the family library. Written in an strange tongue, I frantically turned page after page till I discovered a page, on which were drawn seven ravens. On the opposite page there was written a single spell. The script was a simple gothic alphabet which I could recite, even though the language was unfamiliar.
Days bled into nights as I poured over the archaic script, the cryptic letters writhing like snakes before my sleep-deprived eyes. The passage was an incantation which seemed to promise the banishment of shadows. Relief washed over me, freedom from the ancient curse within my grasp. Tomorrow, I would face the darkness, armed with my grandfather's book.
The next night, I stood in the field behind the farmhouse. The moon was casting long, menacing shadows across the grass. Clutching the book, my voice trembled as I began the chant. The shadows seemed to peer into me, responding to the power of the words. Then, a flicker in the corner of my eye. A single tendril of darkness began to creep back from me, melting into the others.
Suddenly, I felt powerful even joyous as I recited the passages. I'd done it. I'd outwitted the very essence of darkness, using the power of the grimoire in my grandfathers library to turn it back. But as I closed the book , a flicker of unease sparked in my mind.
The symbols on the cover seemed different somehow. The incantation I'd recited sounded wrong as it paused, seeming to hang in the air . Anxiety began to overtake me, I felt a cold fear creeping down my spine. The shadows, weren't retreating as I believed but were surging forward with a malevolent hunger.
Frantic, I flipped through the pages, searching for the passage, the one that had repelled the darkness. But there were no ravens to be found, only a chilling emptiness where the spell had been moments ago. In my desperation, a horrifying realization dawned. This wasn't the Book of Banishing Shadows. It had never been.
The reality crashed over me like a tidal wave. My grandfather had been dead long ago. That old man on the throne wasnt him. All along, I'd been an unwitting pawn, duped by the darkness itself into unleashing the very thing I feared the most. The shadows I'd "banished" were now dancing joyously, in the pale moonlight.
My scream, lost in the encroaching darkness, was the last sound the world would ever hear from me. I was slowly being enveloped by the very shadows I so naively believed I'd repelled. The book, now fallen at my feet, in a cruel mockery of hope, lay closed. Its true title now plain to see in the last rays of the setting moon - The Book of Summoning Shadows.
submitted by adr826 to scarystories [link] [comments]

2024.05.19 22:36 No_Math6278 The cast's relationship with the survivors and the victims' families (based on what they have said in interviews and social media).

For some pictures, click here: https://www.reddit.com/SocietyOfTheSnow/comments/1c2s61i/movie_meets_real_life_actors_with_their_survivors/
Played survivors:
Played Victims
Were not passengers:
Sources:
1) Netflix: Who Were We on the Mountain? + Tom Holland interview + Bardem interview + many other interviews with families, survivors and cast members.
2) Actors and survivors' personal Instagram accounts.
3) Interview by Moobys (YouTube)
4) Interview by Fangirleando y Chismeando (YouTube)
5) Juanicar's livestreams
6) Society of the Snow book (newest edition)
7) "Una Montaña de Amor", event organized by Biblioteca Nuestros Hijos (NGO ran since 1973 by the families of the victims), may 20th, 2024.
8) Interview by DESCAJETADOS
9) Interview by COONET
10) Interview by Pablo GF
11) Interview by Algo que decir
EDIT: Added more links.
EDIT 2: Added more details, and added info shared in the "Una Montaña de Amor" event.
EDIT 3: Found more interviews with lesser known cast members.
submitted by No_Math6278 to SocietyOfTheSnow [link] [comments]

2024.05.19 02:10 RyoAshikara An unnecessarily large beginners guide to Dharāṇī and Paritta Text (Sorry I couldn’t make it any shorter!)

What exactly are Dharāṇī?
Dharāṇī, also known as Parittas, are Buddhist chants, mnemonic codes, incantations, or recitations, usually the mantras consisting of Sanskrit or Pāli phrases. Believed to be protective and with powers to generate merit for the Buddhist devotee, they constitute a major part of historic Buddhist literature. Many of these chants are in Sanskrit and Pāli, written in scripts such as Siddhaṃ, as well as transliterated into Chinese, Korean, Japanese, Vietnamese, Sinhala, Thai and other regional scripts. Dharāṇī are found in the ancient texts of all major traditions of Buddhism. They are a major part of the Pāli canon preserved by the Theravāda tradition. Mahāyāna Sūtras such as the Lotus Sūtra and the Heart Sūtra include or conclude with Dharāṇī. Dharāṇī are a part of the regular ritual prayers as well as considered to be an amulet and charm in themselves, whose recitation believed to allay bad luck, diseases or other calamity. In some Buddhist regions, they served as texts upon which the Buddhist witness would swear to tell the truth. Dharāṇī recitation for the purposes of healing and protection is referred to as Paritta in some Buddhist regions, such as Laos, Thailand, Burma, Cambodia, and Sri Lanka. Paritta is generally translated as ‘Safeguard’ or ‘Protection’ in the Pāli language.
Historical Context:
The word Dharāṇī derives from a Sanskrit root √dhṛ meaning "to hold or maintain". Some Buddhist communities outside India sometimes refer to Dharāṇī with alternate terms such as "Mantra, Hṛdaya (Hridiya), Paritrana (Paritta), Raksha (Pali: Rakkha), Gutti, or Vidyā" though these terms also have other contextual meanings in Buddhism. The Buddhist Dharāṇī invocations are the earliest mass printed texts that have survived. The earliest extant example of printing on paper is a fragment of a Dhāraṇī miniature scroll in Sanskrit unearthed in a tomb in Xi'an, called the Great spell of unsullied pure light (Wúgòu jìng guāngdà tuóluóní jīng; 無垢淨光大陀羅尼經). It was printed using woodblock during the Tang dynasty, c. 650–670 AD. The Hyakumantō Darani found as charms in wooden pagodas of Japan were broadly accepted as having been printed between 764 and 770 CE. In 1966, similarly printed Dharāṇī were discovered in stone pagoda of Pulguksa temple in Gyeongju, Korea. These are dated to the first half of the 8th century.
How to start the practice:
As stated, Dharāṇī, are used as a sort of mnemonic code, specifically curated to help a practitioner remember the text in which the teaching and incantation comes from, such a practice is a good starting point in exploring the genre of Buddhist text that have the ability to generate positive karma, and dedication of merit to other sentient beings. Remembering and reciting a Dharāṇī is useful, and is a good recommendation for beginners, linked here is also a guide on how to pronounce Sanskrit if you happen to have some linguistic difficulties:
https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLnFLN_eBOBMVEWX7pGJMGJNr_HK75VL_9&si=wSLN1Pz95q9bTcNA
Please note as some Dharāṇī/Paritta are esoteric and passed down by lineage of teacher to student, it is highly recommended for beginners to receive oral transmissions of such text. However, in this short list, all listed text are Sūtric and are free to recite without need of oral transmission.
Here is a good beginners list:
(Sanskrit works) Saddharma Puṇḍarīka Sūtraṁ (White Lotus Sūtra, used for praising the White Lotus Sūtra, and its benefits.)
Nīlakaṇṭha Dharāṇī (Blue-Necked One Dharāṇī, used for honoring, venerating, and requesting Avalokiteśvara protection, and clearance of obstacles.)
Śūraṅgama Mantraḥ/Sitātapatroṣṇīṣa Dhāraṇī* (Śūraṅgama Sūtra Mantraḥ, and the Dharāṇī associated in the Śūraṅgama Sūtra; White Parosal Dharāṇī of Sitātapatra Dharmapāla. Used for honoring, and venerating, the Śūraṅgama Sūtra, as well as requesting the help of Sitātapatra Dharmapāla to combat negative spiritual forces, magic, and beings.)
Bhaiṣajya-Guru-Vaiḍūrya-Prabhā-Rāja Dharāṇī (Used for honoring, and venerating, the Medicine Buddha Sūtra, as well as requesting his spiritual powers to heal and help sentient beings.)
Prajñāpāramitā-Hṛdaya (Sūtra) (Used for honoring, and venerating, the essence of Mahāyāna teachings on Śūnyatā, beneficial at warding off ill calamities, and dispelling negative forces.)
Munīndra-Hṛdaya-Mantraḥ (Shakyamuni Heart Mantraḥ, used for honoring, venerating, and establishing a connection to the Buddha Dharma.)
Śyāmatārā-Mantraḥ (Green Tārā Mantraḥ, used for requesting assistance from Green Tārā Bodhisattva.)
Amitāyus Dharāṇī (Amitāyus Buddha Dharāṇī used for honoring, venerating, and establishing a connection to the Amitabha Buddha Dharma, and for requesting longevity.)
Sarva-Tathāgatāyur-Vajra-Hṛdaya-Dharāṇī (All Thus Come One Life Diamond Heart Dharāṇī, used as an aspiration prayer towards Sukhāvatī, as well as praising, and venerating Amitābha Buddha.)
*Disclaimer, although this is an open mantraḥ, it is highly recommended to follow a teachers instructions on the usage of such a powerful mantraḥ. The Śuraṅgama Mantraḥ request the help of Vajrapaṇi Dharmapāla and is an extremely wrathful mantraḥ, often used at the most extreme of cases. Repeated usage is to advised by a qualified teacher.
For a more general overlook on Paritta works, which are often more peaceful in nature, and have a heavy emphasis on Mettā and merit dedication, here are a few open protective Parittas:
(Pāli linguistic works) Mettā Sutta/Karaṇīyamettā Sutta (The Discourse on Goodwill, used for spreading Mettā Pāramī to other sentient beings.)
Uddissanādhiṭṭhāna Gāthā (Verses for dedication of merit, used for dedicating merit to sentient beings, as well as multitudes of spiritual beings.)
Tiro-kuḍḍa-kaṇḍa-sutta Gāthā (Hungry Shades outside the walls verses, used for dedicating merit and food for ancestors and Pretā spiritual beings.)
Āmantana-Devatā Gāthā (Invitation to the Devās, used to invite the Buddhist and local deities protect those listening and preaching the Dhamma.)
Namakāra-siddhi Gāthā (Verses on success through homage, used as the beginning Paritta of ceremonies to venerate Buddhas and to bring success to rituals.)
Cha Ratana Paritta Gāthā (The Six Protective Verses from the Discourse on Treasures, derived from the larger Ratana Sutta, used for dispelling evil and negative forces, and proclaiming the truth [Saccakiriyā] of the triple gems.)
Khandha Paritta (The Group Protection, used for calming down and venerating the Nāga families, as well as dispelling harmful two footed, four footed, poisonous, and crawling creatures.)
Dhajagga Paritta (Top of the banner staff Protection, used for dispelling fear, and negative forces.)
Buddha-jaya-maṅgala Gāthā (The Verses of the Buddha’s Victory Blessings, used for proclaiming the eight auspicious victories of Shakyamuni Buddha in his life.)
It is recommended before the start of any Dharāṇī or Paritta chanting that one is to take refuge in the triple gems, and make aspiration prayers towards one’s goal, an example, as seen in the Theravāda Nikāya:
Namo tassa bhagavato arahato sammā-sambuddhassa. (Recite three times.)
Homage to the Blessed One, the Worthy One, the Rightly Self-awakened One.
Tisaraṇa (Triple Gem Refuge.)
Buddhaṁ saraṇaṁ gacchāmi. Dhammaṁ saraṇaṁ gacchāmi. Saṅghaṁ saraṇaṁ gacchāmi.
I go to the Buddha for refuge. I go to the Dhamma for refuge. I go to the Saṅgha for refuge.
Dutiyampi Buddhaṁ saraṇaṁ gacchāmi. Dutiyampi Dhammaṁ saraṇaṁ gacchāmi. Dutiyampi Saṅghaṁ saraṇaṁ gacchāmi.
Twice, I go to the Buddha for refuge. Twice, I go to the Dhamma for refuge. Twice, I go to the Saṅgha for refuge.
Tatiyampi Buddhaṁ saraṇaṁ gacchāmi. Tatiyampi Dhammaṁ saraṇaṁ gacchāmi. Tatiyampi Saṅghaṁ saraṇaṁ gacchāmi.
Thrice, I go to the Buddha for refuge. Thrice, I go to the Dhamma for refuge. Thrice, I go to the Saṅgha for refuge.
[Āmantana-Devatā Gāthā is said here.]
[Namakāra-siddhi Gāthā Paritta Chant, and so on…..]
Please feel free to ask questions, I don’t even know if you’re still reading, but…. Feel free to add suggestions too I guess. Have a nice day, and thank you for coming to my Ted-talk.
submitted by RyoAshikara to GoldenSwastika [link] [comments]

2024.05.18 20:01 The-Hot-Shame Lore Theory: Why Miquella planted the Haligtree [potential spoilers for the story of Elden Ring, obviously]

Apologies if this seems a bit messy, this is my first time writing out a FromSoft lore theory and I copied and pasted this from a google doc that I had this all written in. I wasn't sure if I was going to post the theory on here, or make a YouTube video. In the end, I decided to post it here since this would be the first, and probably only video that I would have made.
As a point of note, throughout this theory you will hear me refer to the DLC area as both the Land of Shadow and the Realm of Shadow. To clarify, what I mean by this is that we know that the DLC area once existed alongside the Lands Between, until something happened that separated it from the mainland. A character in the trailer calls the DLC area the ‘Realm of Shadow’. Simply put, I believe the Land of Shadow became the Realm of Shadow once it was veiled and obscured by Marika.
The Haligtree in Elden Ring, is an optional area within the game, created by the Empyrean Miquella. Miquella seemed pretty keen on the successful growth of this tree, going as far as watering it with his own blood when it was a sapling and even placing his own body inside it, only for Mohg to steal him away. However, something that is never explained is exactly why Miquella decided to grow the Haligtree in the first place. I mean, Miquella’s main goal has been to cure Malenia of her Rot. He even abandon’s Fundamentalism, something he was deeply involved with along with his father, all because it could do nothing to cure Malenia of her rot. I believe I have figured out why Miquella grew the tree and it all starts on ‘The Night of the Black Knives’.
The Night of the Black Knives
The night of the black knives is a major event in the history of Elden Ring, where the black knife assassin’s stole a piece of the rune of death, and used it to slay the demigod Godwyn the Golden. Making him ‘the first of the demigods to die’. However, Godwyn did not die a ‘true death’. He was slain in soul alone, while his body remained intact. Due to Godwyn’s condition, deathroot started to spread and any who came in contact with it was cursed to live in death. This is because, at the same time Godwyn was slain with the rune of death, Ranni (Godwyn's half sister) was also slain. However, Ranni’s body was slain, but her soul remained intact, later being housed in the four-armed puppet that we meet her in in the game.
Miquella was clearly affected by what happened to Godwyn. We know that Miquella helped in the creation of the Golden Epitaph sword as it was he that spoke the prayer ‘O brother, Lord brother, please die a true death’. We can also see a statue in Loretta’s arena of the twin empyreans being embraced by a third, older figure. This individual is believed to be Godwyn, which would make sense given Miquella’s involvement in aiding those of the Golden Order that hunt those that live in death.
Ranni tells us that she orchestrated the whole thing, in order to free herself from the control of the two fingers. She says the following:
“I was once an Empyrean.
Of the demigods, only I, Miquella, and Malenia could claim that title.”
“I stole the Rune of Death,
slew mine own Empyrean flesh,
casting it away.
I would not be controlled by that thing.”
These lines of dialogue tells us that Empyreans are, somehow, controlled by the two fingers and the only way to free oneself from their control is to rid yourself of your ‘Empyrean Flesh’.
Ranni also calls it a ‘fearsome rite’, I think we can infer from this that everything that happened during the night of the Black Knives had to happen the way it did in order for fulfil some kind of ritual that allowed Ranni to cast away her empyrean flesh.
Divesting of Flesh
So Ranni learned of this ‘fearsome rite’ to rid herself of her Empyrean flesh and it was necessary for her to do so in order to chase her own goals, that of the dark path. The Two Fingers obviously would not have allowed her to do this and thus, Ranni went ahead with this ‘fearsome rite’.
Miquella, as we learned from the interview with Miyazaki after the trailer dropped, has ‘divested himself of his flesh’ in order to travel to the realm of shadow. We know that the Land of Shadow is the first place the Goddess Marika stepped. I think it’s a safe assumption to make that Miquella is trying to learn what Marika did here in the Land of Shadow. We know that Miquella is a scholar at heart. He devoted so much of his time to research and study many things. Gowry calls his golden needle a “work of a true artisan”, Miquella also created two incantations, Discus and triple rings of light, Miquella founded the Unalloyed Gold ideology and even managed to find a way to stave off the presence of outer gods. It could also be argued that Miquella created the pulley weapons which, if true, further adds to the point of him being scholarly.
I believe that, through Miquella’s research of trying to cure Melania’s scarlet rot, learned of the Land of Shadow, learned that that is where Marika became a Goddess and that she ultimately hid something deep within the Realm of Shadow. We know that Marika was hiding the Rune of Death in Faram Azula, so it stands to reason that the Realm of Shadow is hiding yet another one of Marika’s secrets.
However, I don’t think that Miquella’s Two Fingers would have allowed him to travel to the Land of Shadow. As for why, it’s unclear, perhaps that reason could be the very secret Marika is trying to keep secret.
Melina is ‘burned and bodiless’ and is still seemingly able to retrieve Torrent from Miquella, phase in and out from the Lands Between and also take us to the Roundtable Hold, which I believe lies in the Land of Shadow. That would explain the existence of two Roundtable Holds (the one with the Two Fingers and the Fortified Manor in Leyndell). Considering all this, I believe the Realm of Shadow is a place that only spirits can access freely. This would makes sense since when a spirit, or soul, passes into the afterlife, they are said to have ‘passed through the veil’. We know that veils are used to hide things in Elden Ring. The Mimic’s veil transforms us into something else and the Black Knife Assassins use veils to become invisible. I believe that the Realm of Shadow is also being obscured by a large veil.
I think that, because the Two Fingers wouldn’t allow for Miquella to travel there, Miquella sought the need to divest himself of his flesh as well, similarly to Ranni, but didn’t want to perform the same rite as Ranni as Miquella was very clearly upset about what happened to Godwyn. Afterall, we can see a prayer that he spoke on the Golden Epitaph, which reads ‘O brother, Lord brother, please die a true death’. This would lead Miquella to seek out another way to ‘divest himself of his flesh’ and, being the genius scholar that he is, I think he found it.
Planting the Haligtree
I believe that Miquella discovered another rite. I believe that this rite involves the planting of a Haligtree seed, watering it with the blood of the one who wishes to divest themselves of their flesh and then, finally, placing their body inside it once it has grown large enough. I don’t think that the cocoon would develop around anyone else if they placed themselves in the Haligtree, only Miquella. As it was with his blood that the Haligtree ‘was raised on’ and so it would need his blood to fully mature. That would explain why the Haligtree started to die when Mohg ripped his cocoon from the Haligtree.
While it’s unclear where exactly Miquella got the Haligtree seed from, I do think that we can make some good estimations based on some clues given to us in the game.
The first clue is that Erdtree Avatars have emerged to defend the Haligtree, along with Ulcerated Tree Spirits. We know that Erdtree Avatars emerge to protect the offspring of the Erdtree, the minor Erdtrees, as we fight them at most, if not every, Minor Erdtree that we visit.. This suggests that the Haligtree is a form of offspring to the Erdtree, however it’s likely a different kind of offspring to the Minor Erdtrees. The reason I think this is because the Haligtree was planted before the shattering. The symbol of the Haligtree appears when using the Golden Epitaph’s weapon skill, which implies that Miquella helped craft weapons that would aid the Golden Order in the hunt of those that live in death. The only way this could be possible is if the Haligtree was planted before the Golden Epitaph weapon was created. At this time, it was considered impossible for the Erdtree to produce seeds or offspring, as it was thought that the Erdtree was eternal.
The second clue we get regarding the origin of the Haligtree is a voice line from Gowry:
“The work of a true artisan…a meticulous, bold craftsman who grasps the essence of life.”
From this, we learn that Miquella is not only a ‘true artisan’ but also was able to ‘grasp the essence of life’, and I think this is important. I think that, because Miquella ‘grasped the essence of life’ he was able to procure the Haligtree seed from the Erdtree, even when everyone else thought it impossible.
The Plan
I think Miquella wanted to go into the Realm of Shadow to mainly learn how Marika became a Goddess. Afterall it did once exist alongside the Lands Between before ‘something’ separated it. I think it’s pretty clear that Marika obscured the Realm of Shadow, and if Marika obscured it, then it must contain something that Marika wants to keep a secret. I believe Miquella came to the same conclusion and decided to travel there. However, due to how it exists, only spirits can ‘pass through the veil’ that obscures it from the Lands Between. So, Miquella sought to ‘divest himself of his flesh’ so that he could exist in soul alone to travel through the veil and investigate the Realm of Shadow.
The reason I think Mesmer is sealed within the Realm of Shadow, but is still fiercely loyal to Marika is because he was either chosen, or volunteered himself to protect whatever secret Marika is trying to keep hidden. Just like how Maliketh was protecting the Rune of Death, I believe Marika had Mesmer protect Marika’s secret. Afterall, nobody who would be following the grace of gold would be lead to the Realm of Shadow to begin with, so all who enter would be fair game for Mesmer to ‘impale’ or ‘embrace Mesmer’s flame’
Additional Thoughts/Theories
Perhaps the reason Miquella needs his ‘promised lord’ is so that he could fuse with them. Afterall, we don’t know exactly how Marika and Radagon became one individual. Perhaps Radagon was a native to the Land of Shadow and, once it had become veiled, he and Marika were able to fuse and form a ‘two souls-one body’ situation. Thus, Miquella might need to do the same, where an individual with an intact body might be offered to Miquella to house his soul. This individual, I believe, is his ‘promised lord’ that he is waiting for in the Realm of Shadow. Perhaps Miquella’s original plan was to wait for the eclipse, in which the residents of Castle Sol would be able to send Miquella his ‘comrade’, making Miquella the living soul to the comrade’s soulless body. This would explain why the residents of Castle Sol lament at how Miquella’s ‘comrade remains soulless’. Perhaps this line was never referencing Godwyn. Afterall, we do know that Miquella wanted Godwyn to ‘die a true death’ and, the line ‘your comrade remains soulless’ almost implies a resurrection of some sort. This sounds almost too hypercritical if Miquella wants Godwyn to ‘die a true death’ but also wants to revive him.
It also never sat quite right with me how, Miquella was taken from the Haligtree and Malenia is doing… nothing about it. I know she was wounded in her fight with Radahn, but I don’t think that her waking up for her boss fight is the first time she awoke since being carried back to the Haligtree by Finlay. It would make sense, however, if the reason Malenia isn’t looking for Miquella is because she knows that the body that was taken is no longer important. Yes Miquella will fulfil his promise and return, but he won’t return to his previous body.
Conclusion
In conclusion, I believe that the reason Miquella planted the Haligtree was specifically to divest himself of his flesh in order to escape the control of his Two Fingers. Then, travel to the Realm of Shadow in order to learn what Marika did to become a God, where he would then await his promised lord that would be delivered to him during the eclipse. Then, together, they would follow Marika’s footsteps and ascend to Godhood where they could then bring an end to Malenia’s rot (and potentially give Godwyn a true death?).
submitted by The-Hot-Shame to Eldenring [link] [comments]

2024.05.17 11:22 Heglyne Well... Finally reached the end of the game.

Hello, fellows Tarnisheds and soon-to-be Lords and Queens! Honestly, I've been lurking on this subreddit for a while, and decided to make an account to share with you all my pride and happiness, as I finally got the chance to sat down on the Throne.
Elden Ring is my first From Software game. A lot of my friends tried to get me into Dark Souls and all, but... I never even tried them, too scared to be demoralized by the difficulty, as I ain't a hardcore, mechanical type of player. But a few months ago... They convinced me to give Elden Ring a try. And that's how I ended traveling through the Lands Between, without any kind of guide or wiki. Fully blind, until the end.
I'll be honest... The first dozen of hours were... Terrifying. I began with the Prophet class, and noticing that my flame spell was... Really close ranged didn't really put me at ease. A loooooot of death happened. I faced Margit way too early, got smacked over and over again... And decided to explore a little before coming back to him.
Noticing how huge the map was scared me too. I felt so... Powerless. Just watching how huge the Liurna area was nearly made me drop the game for good. But my friends convinced me to continue.
I kept going with a Faith build, not really knowing what I was really doing. Until... I've killed Agheel, and learned about the Dragon Communion spells. Fell in love with the Idea of being a Dragon Slayer, eating their hearts to get new incantations. So... I went with that for the rest of the game. A more... Arcane/Faith build. To be fair... At first, it was horrible. The spells cost a lot of FP, and I pretty much kept using more traditional spells. But I was having fun. Just making a huge Dragon head appear, and spitting a large breath of pure and burning flames... Was kind of satisfying.
I might have gone with some kind of weird path to reach the end. Never really went to Caelid, as I was to scared of the huge dogs. To be honest, I didn't find the last piece of the lift medallions, as I got into Altus Plateau by a weird dungeon I've discovered purely by luck (which was HORRIBLE, I hated it).
On the other side... I've gone to the Helig-Tree, and faced that horrible rotten lady. My friends heard me crying multiple times over discord calls, as I spent multiple nights trying to beat her. But when I finally got her, I... Just felt so good and proud of myself.
I ended up reaching the end of the game a few days later. And I felt... Kinda empty, for a few hours. I spent so much time to get to that credit scene... It sure was quite something.
Elden Ring was an incredible experience. It was hard. Real hard. But... It gave me such a feeling of freedom. Riding Torrent around the whole map, discovering small dungeon, NPCs, loot... I know that I've missed a lot of bosses, NPCs, Quests... And yet the game still allowed me to reach the end.
I might try to go through New Game +, with a wiki this time, to learn about those quests and bosses I've missed, and maybe find some new way to build my character. Any thing I should try first? Fun builds, fun spells, fun weapons? After that... Maybe I should play the Souls games, or Sekiro. Or Bloodborne. What would you all suggest? I don't know where to start, hahahaha.
Anyway, I know I've written some kind of novella-long post, but... I just wanted to share you my love for the game. And how, despite being terrified by the roughness, and the immensity of the world... I kept pushing forward. I guess I'll wait for the DLC too.
submitted by Heglyne to Eldenring [link] [comments]

2024.05.17 10:04 Ekocare On the Origin of the Buddhist Arthakathás (R. C. Childers, L. C. Vijasinha)

On the Origin of the Buddhist Arthakathás Cambridge University Press (1871)
"—the commentary, I say, upon this Scripture was
at the first Council rehearsed by five hundred holy elders
and in later times rehearsed again and yet again."
L. Comrilla Vijasinha, Government Interpreter to the Ratnapura Court Ceylon:
It must be admitted that the point raised by Mr. Childers is one of grave importance as affecting the credibility of Buddhaghosa and the authenticity of all the commentaries on the Tipitaka. From a missionary point of view, the astounding statement that a commentary on Buddha's discourses existed during his lifetime, and was rehearsed along with those discourses at the First Great Council, appears so improbable and unnatural as at once to justify one in discrediting the testimony; and I doubt not that missionary orientalists will hail the discovery as a valuable addition to their stock of arguments against the genuineness and authenticity of the Buddhist Scriptures.
Indeed I found it difficult at first to obtain the opinions of some of my learned friends of the Buddhist priesthood on this point, as they seemed to regard it as another thunderbolt intended to be levelled against their religion by some enthusiastic missionary ; and it was only after explaining to them the object of the inquiry, and the literary character of the gentleman who started the apparent difficulty, that I could induce them to look the question fairly in the face.
I am glad to say that most of my clerical Buddhist friends with whom I have consulted on this subject agree with me on the necessity of giving a wider and more extended signification than is generally allowed to the word Atthakathá as applied by Buddhaghosa in the passage cited. The word, as is well known, is compounded of two terms, attha, " meaning, " and katha , " a statement, explanation, or narrative," the dental t being changed to the cerebral by a latitude in the rules of permutation.1 The literal meaning of the compound term would thus amount to simply " an ex- planation of meaning. " Taking this wider sense of the word as a basis for the solution of the problem, I think the statement of Buddhaghosa in his preface to the commentary on the Dígha Nikáya is not so hopelessly irreconcilable with probable and presumable facts as would at first sight appear.
On a careful perusal of the two accounts given by Buddhaghosa of the proceedings of the three famous Councils in the Sumańgala Vilásiní and the Samanta Pásádiká, this view will, I think, be found to be very reasonable. It must be admitted that no actual commentary, in the sense that the westerns attach to that term, and like that which has been handed down to us by Buddhaghosa, existed either in the lifetime of Buddha or immediately after his death. The reasons adduced by Mr. Childers, apart from others that can easily be added, against such a supposition, are overwhelmingly convincing. But if we suppose that by the word Atthakathá in his preface Buddhaghosa only meant to convey the idea that at the various Councils held for the purpose of collocating the discourses and sayings of Buddha, the meanings to be attached to different terms were discussed and properly defined, then the difficulty of conceiving the contemporaneous existence pf the commentaries and the Pitakas would be entirely removed.
This view of the subject will appear still further borne out if we briefly glance over the history of the First Convocation, as narrated by Buddhaghosa himself. The first proposal to hold an assembly of priests for the purpose of collocating Buddha's discourses was made by Mahá Kassapa, the chief of the seven hundred thousand priests who assembled at Kusinára to celebrate the obsequies of the departed saint. Seven days had hardly elapsed after that mournful occurrence, when signs of discontent at monastic restraint manifested themselves, and a disaffected disciple of Buddha named Subhadda openly proclaimed that now their master was no more the ties of discipline should be relaxed, if not broken. The words of consolation offered by this old monk to his brethren in distress are certainly remarkable, as it would be difficult to say whether they betoken more the callousness of his feelings or the depravity of his heart: " Brethren, enough of this sorrow, weep not, lament not. We are well rid of that Arch-priest, having been in constant dread of his declarations, This befits you, this befits you not. Now, there- fore, what we desire we shall do; what we do not desire that shall we not do." To a sagacious mind like that of Mahá Kassapa it was not difficult to perceive what language like this foreshadowed, and he instantly formed the resolve to congregate the priesthood, and to collect and arrange the laws and doctrines proclaimed by his Master. Hardly two months had elapsed before this active mind brought about what it had contemplated, and the result was the Council of the Five Hundred, convoked at Kájagaha, under the auspices of King Ajátasattu, for the purpose of collecting and arrang- ing the doctrines and discourses of Buddha.
The proceedings of this Council appear to have been con- ducted in a very orderly and systematic manner, which is the more surprising when we consider that monastic autocracy was about to give place to a form of church government prescribed by the great Founder himself, but which was now to be established and tested for the first time. Mahá Kassapa, whom Buddha indirectly indicated as his equal in point of superhuman mental acquirements, assumed the office of Moderator, and by the unanimous consent of the synod Upáli was elected as the best qualified of their order to repeat the Yinaya, and Ānanda the Dhamma ; the Council having previously decided that the Yinaya was the most material for the permanence of Buddhism.
Now it is important to observe that the catechetical form was used in the collocation of both the Laws and Doctrines. "Afterwards Mahá Kassapa, having seated himself in the presidential chair, questioned the venerable Upáli respecting the Yinaya in this wise. Brother Upáli, where was the first Párájika promulgated? My lord, at Vesáli. On whose account? On account of Sudinna, the son of Kalanda. With regard to what offence? To fornication. Then did the venerable Mahá Kassapa question the venerable Upáli on the offence, the cause, the offender, the primary law, the secondary law, the transgression and the non-transgression, relating to the first law enacted against mortal sin. And the venerable Upáli explained as he was questioned." Such was also the method employed in the synod in the collocation of the Dhamma : - " Brother Ananda, where was the Brahmajála delivered ? My lord, between Rájagaha and Nálanda," and so on. Though it is subsequently added that " at the conclusion of the questions and answers the five hundred Arhats repeated the texts together in the order in which they had been collocated,"- it is difficult to believe that all' the five hundred rehearsed the long narratives prefixed to some of Buddha's discourses in the same words and style that they are now clothed in. Buddhaghosa's account of the synod is gathered from tradition, which was very probably embodied in the Simhalese atthakathás, and there can be little doubt that the main facts are correct ; but that he drew largely from tradition, written and oral, and possibly in some instances from imagination, will I think appear clear to any careful reader of the commentaries. Witness for instance his relation of Ananda's mysterious entrance into the assembly : pathaviyam nimujjitvá ottano árnne y em attánam dassesi , ákásena gantvá nisïdîti pi eke , " He plunged into the earth and showed himself in his seat, and also some say he went through the air and sat down." He does not say which version is correct, but is quite satisfied with both accounts, and is evidently quite willing to let his readers choose whichever they like.
Buddhaghosa throughout all his writings appears to have set one great object prominently in view, namely to inspire reverence for what he considered as supreme authority. When he came to Ceylon for the purpose of translating the Simhalese commentaries, he found a great many extant at that time, and out of these commentaries, embracing no doubt various shades of opinion, and representing different schools of thought, he had to expunge, abridge, enlarge, and make a new commentary. Now how could he do all this, and at the same time preserve undiminished among future generations the same reverence and authority in which the older commentaries were held by the Buddhists of that age? The thought struck him, as no doubt it would strike any careful reader of the Buddhist Scriptures, that a large portion of the writings contained in that canon appear to be explanations and definitions of terms used by Buddha, and also that a great many discourses said to have been delivered by Buddha to certain individuals have not been recorded.
Now what more easy to conceive, or what more probable, than that they formed the nucleus of matter for the formation of a commentary, and that at the First General Council, which lasted seven months, the elders, who had all seen and heard Buddha, should have dis- cussed them, and decided on the method of interpreting and teaching the more recondite portions of Buddhist philosophy ? and what therefore if he should say in somewhat exaggerated language, " the commentary on the Digha Nikáya was at the beginning discussed (or composed, or merged into the body of the Scriptures) by five hundred holy elders" ? - for the original words may admit of such a construction. If or will this opinion appear merely hypothetical if we carefully peruse the account given by Buddhaghosa of the commentaries in his Samanta Pásádiká. In his metrical introduction to that work, after the usual doxology, he explains the necessity of having a proper Pali Commentary on the Vinaya, and then proceeds to set forth what he is about to do : -
"In commencing this commentary, I shall, having embodied therein the Mahá Atthakathá, without excluding any proper meaning from the decisions contained in the Mahá Paccarí, as also in the famous Kurundi and other com- mentaries, and including the opinions of the Elders, - perform my task well. Let the young, the middle-aged, and the elderly priests, who entertain a proper regard for the doctrines of the Tathágata, the luminary of truth, listen to my words with pleasure. The Dhamma, as well as the Yinaya, was declared by Buddha, his (sacerdotal) sons understood it in the same sense as it was delivered ; and inasmuch as in former times they (the Simhalese commentators) composed the com- mentaries without disregarding their (the sacerdotal sons') opinions, therefore, barring any erro* of transcription, every- thing contained therein is an authority to the learned in this priesthood who respect ecclesiastical discipline. From these (Simhalese) commentaries, after casting off the language, condensing detailed accounts, including authoritative deci- sions, and without overstepping any Pàli idiom (I shall pro- ceed to compose). And as this commentary will moreover be explanatory of the meaning of words belonging. to the Suttas in conformity with the sense attached to them therein, therefore ought it the more diligently to be studied."
....continued...
On the Origin of the Buddhist Arthakathás Cambridge University Press (1871)
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2024.05.17 08:38 ravedeath1917 Kommunistisches Programm – National Revolution and Downfall of Cambodia (1980)

https://libriincogniti.wordpress.com/2021/02/25/kommunistisches-programm-national-revolution-and-downfall-of-cambodia/
The Events after the Fall of Phnom Penh and the Programme of Khieu Samphan, the Peasantry and the Enablers of Capital
With the end of the Indochina war in 1975, not much remained of Cambodia’s economy either. More than half of the rice fields lay fallow, and the few industrial enterprises, the port facilities in Kampong Som, the railway lines and the bridges had been destroyed by US bombs. Although the figures are not unambiguous, their magnitude alone shows what heavy blood sacrifice imperialism also demanded of this people: In the five years of war, around 800,000 people were killed, more than 40,000 were maimed, almost 200,000 were wounded.
The constant flow of refugees inflated the capital from its original population of around 600,000 to over 3 million, meaning that by the end of the war almost half of the Khmer people were crammed into their metropolis. As is well known, the imperialist world press howled in horror and disgust when it learned of the forced exodus of this human aggregation. The US bombardment drove people from the countryside into the cities – the revolutionary nationalists had to force them back. Both actions were cruel and devastating for those affected, because both times they happened under terrible conditions, the first time under the imperialist hail of bombs and the coercion of its local police, the second time under the pressure of hunger and the state coercion of the newly installed revolutionary patriotic power. But for the imperialist propaganda machine there were no connections here. Of course, it only saw the terror of the Khmer Rouge, so supposedly of Communism. Here again was a wonderful opportunity to play out the bourgeois farce of humanism and love of one’s neighbour to the full. No mention of the mass murders in the imperialist war against the Southeast Asian peoples, no mention of the unspeakable destruction of these only weakly industrialised agrarian societies. These sacrifices were noticed at most when the insane war spending of the USA threatened to drag the entire imperialist West into the vortex of economic problems as a result of the currency crises caused by it. After all, to this day, these gentlemen are consistently proud of their efforts to preserve “freedom”.
Cambodia became the main object of these friends of mankind over the next few years. Here, indeed, all cherished values and conceptions were thrown overboard. A state without money, without postal services, without cars and motorbikes, without public transport, without telephones, television, books and the cities extinct. Only “communists” could have committed this crime; as is well known, they can be trusted with anything inhumane and in Cambodia they truly acted as the incarnation of “darkness” and “evil”. What was perpetrated before in the name of the heroes of “light” and “reason” – not a word about that, of course. It was a central organ of the imperialist offensive on the human intellect – Reader’s Digest – that first announced in 1977 that at least 1.2 million people had been murdered in the two years since the fall of Phnom Penh. Ever new figures were quickly added, which journalists claimed to have learned from the numerous refugees. It is not necessary to assume that all these reports were forgeries, because in fact the Khmer Rouge set an extremely radical course from the beginning, which certainly brought much horror, misery and also deaths. But today’s sated imperialists should perhaps sometimes look at the history books: What misery, what terror, what torment against the population is archived there – and that over centuries. The French Revolution also produced at least 100,000 deaths in the most important four years – and it did so with a machine specially designed for the purpose. It was not by chance that it was the steam engine and the guillotine that inaugurated the industrial age in a revolutionary way. But do the distinguished British gentlemen, who even then scoffed at these butchers in Paris, have fewer lives on their consciences? Those who still don’t know have to have it written on their cheat sheets all the time: The establishment of bourgeois rule has always been brutal and extremely bloody. The destruction of the traditional smallholder form of economy, the annihilation of small-scale trade and crafts always passed over those affected like a merciless steamroller. And under unspeakable tortures, the majority of these people who were expropriated without compensation were pressed into the factories and, if necessary, forced by brutal violence to slave as many hours of their day as possible for the lowest possible wages. All that was not so long ago. But it is always amusing how hastily today’s representatives of capital pretend that these are youthful sins of foreign predecessors. And this process of constant dressing for factory labour, of the destruction of both man and nature, continues both in depth and in breadth. It will only come to an end when this capitalist basis has been revolutionarily annihilated because of the contradictions it constantly produces.
...
However, if one wants to understand the “mysterious” processes in Cambodia, one has to be clear above all about the material and social conditions. A devastated country that was still largely worked by small peasants; a chaotically bloated capital city to which the majority of these same peasants had fled. The terror of the bombs had charged this population, once peaceful and living in the eternal grind of farm labour, with fear, but above all with unbridled rage and blind hatred. Hatred against the city in which they had to take refuge, anger against the American bombers which destroyed their existence, but particularly anger against their own corrupt aristocracy, the military as well as the city dwellers in general who sought to prolong their raison d’être by making a pact with imperialism. Now the old mixture of foreignness, subservient spirit and unease found its general discharge in a primal hatred of the rural population for their oppressors in the cities. A frenzy of revenge arose, which certainly accounted for most of the brutalities in the first year of liberation.
In order to understand this social side of this revolution in Cambodia, which gave it the ferocious expression of blood, revenge and chaos that one encounters in practically every revolution carried out mainly by peasants, one must always bear in mind the social structure already described. The strong urban-rural divide was not between agriculture and industry – the latter was practically non-existent – but it was the extreme contrast between agriculture and all the ominous trades that bourgeois statistics usually classify under the heading of “services”. Here, actually “unproductive” administration and trade – moreover, predominantly created and nourished in the service of imperialism – and “productive” agriculture faced each other. Of the “peace population” in Phnom Penh of about 600,000, this included about 200,000 Vietnamese and over 100,000 Chinese, out of a total of about 800,000. So the Cambodians did not even make up the majority of the population in their capital. Aristocracy and officials on one side, poor peasants on the other, too poor to make a living in the countryside, coming to the city because they hoped for a job, or later bombed into it. Cambodians were almost completely excluded from the trade and merchant sectors. These sectors were mainly in the hands of the Chinese and Vietnamese.
In this approaching whirlwind of social unrest on the part of the peasants, which is growing in strength, another social force tries for its survival. Young intellectuals, most of them educated in Paris, the educational centre of the former colonial ruler, want to break the corrupt tangle of local aristocracy and foreign power by force. Without any reservoir in the own ranks of the urban bourgeoisie, for the latter is practically non-existent and if it is, then hardly to be enthused for nationalist accumulation programmes with a more rigorous cut; without a proper bourgeois class, these petty-bourgeois radicals lead a practically hopeless struggle for change. Forced very soon into the rural underground by Sihanouk’s authoritarian regime, they try to implement their programme of industrialisation based on agriculture with the help of the only social class that counts – namely the rural population, the small peasants and farm workers.
...
One simply has to quote these illuminating passages of the Khmer Rouge’s “chief ideologist” at length, because after all the imperialist wailing, one probably does not think it possible that these “monsters” can think at all. (A Trotskyist group, persistent in its obtuseness, even opined that these “monsters” were the embodiment of… a return to feudalism!) One thing is immediately quite clear: these petty-bourgeois intellectuals, widely referred to as Marxists, communists, etc., are never ever in the tradition of the “German” Karl Marx, but of the German Friedrich List, who, under the slogan “Freedom is the goal, limitation is the necessity”, set his protectionist credo against the imperialist ideology of the free traders in the last century. The Khmer Rouge leaders are thus spiritual sons of the ancestors of today’s imperialists, those imperialists who now see in them the personified devil of communism, although they only wanted to be flesh of their flesh.
These views of Samphan and thus the leaders of the Khmer Rouge were also quoted at length because they are so popular today. In the face of the growing exploitation of the countries of the so-called Third World by Western imperialism, theories are emerging everywhere that vehemently propose the same position of “cutting off” the “underdeveloped” countries from the dominance of the world market ruled by Western capital as a panacea. And it is certainly no coincidence that one of the main representatives of these academic “revolutionaries”, the Egyptian Samir Amin, raves about the radicalism of the Khmer Rouge even after their expulsion and predicts a chain of new “Kampucheas” for the African future. Against the massive reality of the increasing internationalisation of capital and the growing global control of Western and increasingly Eastern imperialism, such “progressive” petty-bourgeois theorists place their faith in autarky, national accumulation and so-called autocentric development. Against the capitalist propaganda of progress and prosperity through freedom of trade and capital investment, which in reality in fact produces nothing but growing pauperisation and exploitation, the Good News on the other side says: Only if one can free oneself from imperialism at least for as long as it takes to be able to develop one’s productive forces independently, only then will one achieve prosperity and security for humanity.
In this respect, both sides represent only two sides of the same coin. Both claim to be able to achieve “the greatest happiness for the greatest number” within the framework of and through capitalism – as the forefather of these bourgeois tendencies, Adam Smith, already formulated this elementary lie of capital.
...
The utopians of capital have to acknowledge time and again that, contrary to their proclamations, the social antagonisms both within the “developed” and “underdeveloped” countries and between these countries are becoming increasingly acute. And while capitalism is pushing the development of the productive forces ever more sharply in order to satisfy its insatiable hunger for surplus value, it is precisely because of this highly productive technology that it is less and less able to transform the pauperised masses into active proletarians, i.e. to force them to the machines or into the office. While the imperialists, in their frenzied mania for surplus value, are at least throwing the whole world into growing unrest and undermining ancestral immobile relations ever more thoroughly, the heralds of an apparently radical autarky are causing nothing but confusion in the ranks of the pauperising masses. They talk of economic independence, stable economic cycles and adapted technology – all concepts that really bring out their illusionist anachronism.
And to see Cambodia of all places as a concrete approach or even an example for the feasibility of such utopias seems almost tragicomic in view of the results that are now available. But it is also a total misreading of the factual development under the Pol Pot government. Demonisation and idealisation of the Khmer Rouge have the same basis. They assume that the measures taken after the conquest of power in Cambodia were deliberate and planned. One side sees only the terror and coercive measures with which the leaders, supported by relatively small armed forces, tried to get a grip on a witch’s cauldron of panic and violence and to escape the total catastrophe of starvation – and the chaos that would ensue in turn. They see this terror and these coercive measures as completely detached from the economic and social emergency. The others confuse the factual state of extreme social backwardness in Cambodia and the emergency measures taken with an economic and social programme.
...
We have outlined the devastating situation in Cambodia shortly before the moment of liberation. However broad and deep the peasant unrest in the countryside may have been at the time, it must be remembered that a large proportion of these peasants stayed in the capital out of necessity during the main phase of the fighting. In any case, the Khmer Rouge, hardly more than 70,000 men anyway, fought for a long time mainly in the sparsely populated outskirts of Cambodia.
When the Khmer Rouge troops approached the capital in 1975 – likely with only about 20,000 men – it soon became clear that it was imperative to deal radically with this hopelessly bloated big head. Estimates vary, but it can be assumed that of the 7-8 million Cambodians, at least 2.5, but probably over 3 million were crammed into the capital (“peace population” as mentioned 600,000). With the severing of the umbilical cord to imperialism, Phnom Penh was up in the air as its former bridgehead. There was no possibility whatsoever to control or even feed this veritable hell of collaborators and starving refugee masses. The general shortage of rice had driven prices to dizzying heights: from 10 riel per kilo in December 1971 to 125 riel in December 1973 and on to 300 riel in early 1975, reaching a record 340 riel in mid-February. The retreat of the imperialists and the advance of the Khmer Rouge must have acted as a double signal: On the one hand, to storm against the hated parasites and the urbanites in general, on the other hand, to return to the countryside in chaos. The Khmer Rouge had to evacuate the city and channel the returning flow to avoid a total catastrophe. The fact that the displaced people left a wide trail of blood behind them on their way out of the city (for the time of the Khmer Rouge government, there is consistent talk of at least 1 million deaths) was unavoidable under the given conditions. It is significant that the majority of the massacres affected the urban population and certain national minorities: precisely intellectuals, military officers of the old Lon Nol regime, Sihanoukists, capitalists, merchants etc., and apart from the Cham (Muslims) almost exclusively the Vietnamese and Chinese minorities, whose social situation we have already pointed out.
Whether it was spontaneous peasant terror or executions organised by the Khmer Rouge, it was partly revolutionary violence against the supporters of the old regime, which as such does not speak against but for the Khmer Rouge, and partly pogroms, which the leaders at most accepted and tried to direct in the interests of the state monopoly on the use of force. But it is not so important whether the Khmer Rouge leaders had to accept or order these massacres. What is decisive is that they were forced by material development to eliminate or to have eliminated precisely those strata on which they wanted to rely. This, together with the evacuation of the cities, deprived them of any social support other than the peasantry. Thus they were at the mercy of this peasantry, which had to be disciplined for the actualisation of their “programme”. The conflict with it was therefore programmed for the time after the famine had been averted.
...
After the worst of the chaos had been overcome, it was attempted to use these structures, which had prevailed in a rather primitive way during the hunger phase, for one’s “industrialisation programme” by maintaining and further intensifying collectivisation. Necessity was to become a capitalist virtue. The complete lack of such “civilisational” achievements as the intercourse of money and commodities was supposed to make for an ideal, indeed classic, “truck system”, i.e. payment in kind alone. The peasants were forced into ever new production battles, because now surpluses were to be produced for export – i.e. for exchange with foreign means of production – which indeed happened and animated the leaders even further. The general command was under the iron slogan: “Work hard and try to achieve maximum results with a minimum of investment”, and the focus was on absolute labour effort.
...
Once a sufficient level of production had been restored, however, the whole construction was bound to collapse completely sooner rather than later. Anyone who has even a pale inkling of the travails of the infamous Stalinist collectivisation in Russia – and the Russian state was on an incomparably higher social level and had quite different means of power at its disposal – can easily imagine how the intellectual would-be enablers of capitalism in Cambodia, then practically hanging in the air, would have to perish in an orgy of violence – unless, with the help of a foreign power, they could get a grip on the chaos and create more stable conditions through a series of concessions to the peasantry. Most likely, however, they would be finished even then, like a man trying to hold on as long as possible to a wildly thrashing bull and then falling to the ground exhausted. In any case, the arena crowd was already eagerly awaiting the outcome of the tragedy.
...
Sovereignty, neutrality, non-alignment – this credo runs through all declarations as a complement to “autarky”. But already in the face of the first offensive by the Vietnamese, it must have slowly become clear to the Khmer Rouge leaders that these fine words could only have one meaning in our unpleasant world, namely to place themselves under the protection of the People’s Republic of China. In Pol Pot’s interview, which we have just quoted, a strange acronym appears: CPK. This means “Communist Party of Kampuchea”. And yet, to the boundless amazement of bourgeois commentators, the Khmer Rouge had never tried to dress up their declarations or their constitution with Marxist or pseudo-Marxist vocabulary – which is certainly very sympathetic to us. On the contrary, they have displayed an obvious and pedantic aversion to these concepts. Neither “vanguard of the proletariat” or “communist party” nor “proletarian internationalism”, neither “classless society” nor “dictatorship of the proletariat”, but also not “new democratic revolution”, “mass line”, “creation of a new man”, “peaceful coexistence” etc. etc. had ever been spoken of. If similar contents had to be expressed, they were paraphrased with other words. But this did not happen because the Pol Pot folks would have been particularly honest and wanted to do us Marxists a favour. This happened because in their dogged nationalism they wanted to distance themselves clearly from their neighbours Vietnam, but also China, who professed to be “socialist”. The national character of all these revolutions and states, the national character of their confrontations and of their whole politics is expressed even in the fact that the weakest link feels compelled by the instinct of self-preservation to dispense with the “Marxist” or “socialist” cloak for the capitalist programme! This is what “socialism in one country” has come to! And the adoption of the “Marxist” “vocabulary” here is a sign of the surrender of the so sacred national sovereignty. If, as already mentioned, no announcement had ever mentioned a party or revolutionary phases (there was always talk of a “revolutionary organisation” and even of “Angkor traditions”), Pol Pot told his astonished people and all those who wanted to know the following story on 27 September 1977: the CPK had already existed in Cambodia since 30 September 1960 and had achieved this miracle of a national-democratic revolution. He told it the day before he left for Beijing, on which, fighting a losing battle against the Vietnamese, he has been completely dependent ever since.
As a “plaything of foreign powers”, the nationalist intellectuals of Cambodia perished. The peasantry, largely decimated under the pressure of the imperialist frenzy and its consequences, as now under the pressure of Vietnam’s national expansion, is an example of the fate that capitalist society reserves for small and weak peoples in its emergence and development. To such peoples the proletariat alone would and will secure the right of self-determination, because unlike the bourgeoisie it does not seek national privileges but wants to abolish them, because unlike the bourgeoisie it can create voluntary union, because unlike the bourgeoisie it liberates itself not by exploiting others but by abolishing all exploitation.
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2024.05.17 07:42 No-Quality-2644 Yūrei Chronicles

YŪREI CHRONICLES [ 幽霊クロニクルズ ]
Tales of Japanese Horror [ 日本のホラーの物語 ]
By: Seph Cruz [ 投稿者: セフ・クルーズ ]
CONTENTS [ コンテンツ ]
Preface [ はじめに ]
Chapter 1: The Cursed Scroll [ 第 1 章: 呪われた巻物 ]
Chapter 2: The Shrine in the Shadows [ 第 2 章: 影の神殿 ]
Chapter 3: The Haunting of the Geisha [ 第 3 章: 芸者の幽霊 ]
Chapter 4: The Onryo's Revenge [ 第 4 章: 怨霊の復讐 ]
Chapter 5: The Dollmaker's Curse [ 第 5 章: 人形師の呪い ]
Chapter 6: The Shadow in the Forest [ 第 6 章: 森の影 ] Chapter 7: The Haunting of the Yūrei Inn [ 第 7 章: 幽霊旅館の幽霊 ]
Chapter 8: The Curse of the Haunted Kimono [ 第 8 章: 幽霊着物の呪い ]
Chapter 9: The Mirror's Malevolence [ 第 9 章: 鏡の悪意 ]
Chapter 10: The Bridge to the Beyond [ 第 10 章: 彼方への架け橋 ]
 "Yūrei Chronicles: Tales of Japanese Horror"
Chapter 1: "The Cursed Scroll"
In the heart of Kyoto, where history whispered through the ancient streets, there existed an antique bookstore known only to those who sought the rarest of tomes. Nestled among centuries-old texts and dusty manuscripts, a forbidden scroll lay hidden, waiting for an unwitting soul to stumble upon its chilling secrets.
Chapter 1: "The Cursed Scroll"
The quaint, dimly lit bookstore was a treasure trove of the past. Intricate calligraphy adorned scrolls, while faded ink whispered stories of long-forgotten samurai and mystical creatures. Among these relics of history, one scroll remained elusive, concealed behind a glass case. Its dark, ornate cover bore no title, and its presence seemed to beckon.
Haruki, a young scholar with a fascination for the occult, visited the bookstore one rainy afternoon. His curiosity led him to inquire about the enigmatic scroll. The elderly shopkeeper, Mr. Tanaka, peered at him with a knowing look, cautioning him about the scroll's malevolent reputation.
"Many have sought to uncover its secrets," Mr. Tanaka said, his voice trembling with age, "but few have lived to tell the tale."
Haruki, undeterred by the ominous warning, insisted on examining the scroll. Mr. Tanaka, sensing the scholar's determination, reluctantly unlocked the glass case. As Haruki unrolled the ancient parchment, he saw that it was filled with intricate symbols and incantations, written in a language he could barely comprehend.
For days, Haruki delved into the scroll's mysteries. His sleepless nights were filled with whispers from unseen forces, and chilling drafts seemed to haunt his small apartment. Yet, he pressed on, believing that the scroll held untold knowledge and power.
One fateful night, as a full moon cast eerie shadows across his cluttered study, Haruki recited an incantation from the scroll. The room grew icy cold, and an otherworldly presence enveloped him. A mournful wail echoed through the room, and Haruki's heart raced as he beheld the apparition before him.
A yūrei, its long, disheveled hair obscuring its gaunt face, hovered in the air, its eyes filled with anguish and rage. It reached out bony, pale fingers toward Haruki, its spectral form translucent yet undeniably real.
In that moment, Haruki realized the scroll's true nature – a curse that summoned vengeful spirits to torment the living. He had unwittingly invited the yūrei into his world, and now, it sought retribution for its suffering.
The scholar's life turned into a nightmare as the vengeful spirit haunted his every waking moment. His research became an obsession to find a way to pacify the yūrei and lift the curse. With each passing day, Haruki's health deteriorated, his body and mind succumbing to the relentless torment.
Desperate, he sought the guidance of a renowned exorcist, who revealed a grim truth. The only way to break the curse was to discover the scroll's origins and offer the yūrei the peace it so desperately sought.
As Haruki ventured deeper into the scroll's history, he uncovered a tale of betrayal and tragedy that spanned centuries. With newfound knowledge and a heavy heart, he prepared to confront the vengeful yūrei and set things right.
In a chilling confrontation between the living and the dead, Haruki faced the spirit, offering it the closure it craved. As the yūrei dissipated into the ether, its mournful wail echoed one last time, fading into the night.
Haruki emerged from the ordeal forever changed, carrying the weight of the scroll's curse as a cautionary tale. The forbidden knowledge he had sought had come at a great cost, a reminder that some mysteries should remain hidden, and some curses should never be invoked.
As the sun rose over Kyoto, the antique bookstore remained shrouded in an eerie silence, and the cursed scroll returned to its cryptic slumber, waiting for the next unwitting soul to unlock its dreadful secrets.
End of Chapter 1: "The Cursed Scroll"
Chapter 2: "The Shrine in the Shadows"
In the heart of a tranquil Japanese village, nestled among ancient forests, stood a centuries-old Shinto shrine, known to few but revered by all. This sacred place held an eerie secret, hidden in the shadows of its past.
Chapter 2: "The Shrine in the Shadows"
The village of Mizuki was picturesque, surrounded by dense woods and the whispers of rustling leaves. Its most treasured gem was the Shōrin Shrine, a sanctuary dedicated to the worship of the kami, where the villagers paid homage with heartfelt prayers and offerings.
On a bright spring morning, the Hayashi family moved into a charming house near the shrine. Yuko, a spirited young girl with inquisitive eyes, was enchanted by the quaint beauty of Mizuki and the mystique of the Shōrin Shrine. Her parents, Masato and Yuki, hoped the peaceful village would offer respite from the bustling city.
Their first evening in Mizuki was serene, and the family felt blessed to live in such an idyllic place. As night descended, they heard a faint melody echoing through the forest—a haunting tune played on a traditional shamisen. Yuko, drawn by curiosity, followed the eerie melody to the shrine.
At the shrine's entrance, she saw a flicker of movement among the trees and bushes. As her eyes adjusted to the dim moonlight, she gasped in awe and terror. There, bathed in an ethereal glow, stood a beautiful woman dressed in a white kimono, her long hair cascading like an ebony waterfall.
The woman's face bore an expression of immense sorrow, and her eyes seemed to pierce Yuko's very soul. In her delicate, spectral hands, she held a shamisen, its strings plucked by fingers that had long since turned to mist.
"Who are you?" Yuko asked, her voice quivering.
The apparition gazed at Yuko with an inscrutable sadness and whispered, "My name is Hana. I have been bound to this shrine for centuries, waiting for someone to hear my song."
Hana's story unraveled like a tragic tapestry before Yuko. She had once been a young woman in love with a humble fisherman from Mizuki. Their love was forbidden, and when their secret was discovered, they met a tragic end at the hands of the villagers.
As she spoke, the melody of her shamisen became more mournful, and the trees seemed to weep in sympathy. Hana's spirit, bound to the shrine, could only find solace by sharing her story with the living.
Yuko, moved by Hana's tale, felt a deep connection to the ghostly figure. She promised to help Hana find peace and bring her story to light. Together, they would uncover the truth behind the tragic love story that had ensnared the shrine for centuries.
As Yuko delved into the village's history, she uncovered hidden documents and ancient scrolls that confirmed Hana's story. The injustice done to Hana and her beloved was a blot on the village's past, a truth that had been concealed for generations.
With newfound determination, Yuko rallied the villagers to acknowledge the village's dark history and to seek forgiveness for the sins of the past. In a moving ceremony at the Shōrin Shrine, the villagers offered their prayers, and Hana's spirit was finally set free.
As the first rays of dawn bathed Mizuki in golden light, Hana's ethereal form dissolved into a wisp of gratitude and serenity. The shrine, once shadowed by sorrow, now radiated with newfound peace.
"The Shrine in the Shadows" became a tale passed down through generations, a reminder that love and forgiveness could transcend even the darkest of curses. Mizuki continued to flourish, its shrine standing as a testament to the enduring power of redemption.
End of Chapter 2: "The Shrine in the Shadows"
Chapter 3: "The Haunting of the Geisha"
In the vibrant streets of 19th-century Tokyo, beneath the shimmering lanterns and behind the delicate allure of geisha, a haunting presence lurked—a presence that would forever change the life of a celebrated geisha named Kaede.
Chapter 3: "The Haunting of the Geisha"
In the heart of Tokyo's historic Yoshiwara district, Kaede was renowned as one of the most captivating and skilled geisha. Her beauty was ethereal, her dances mesmerizing, and her laughter like the tinkling of wind chimes. But beneath her porcelain makeup and the grace of her performances lay a heart heavy with secrets.
One cool autumn evening, as the lanterns cast their warm glow on the district, a newcomer arrived at the teahouse where Kaede performed. His name was Kaito, a handsome and enigmatic man with piercing eyes that seemed to see beyond the facade of the geisha. Kaede's heart quickened as their eyes met, and she felt a connection she had never experienced before.
As weeks turned into months, Kaede and Kaito's bond deepened, their love blossoming like the cherry blossoms in spring. But their love was a forbidden one, as Kaito was a samurai, and their worlds were as different as night and day.
One fateful night, Kaito revealed a dangerous secret to Kaede—he was involved in a plot against a powerful daimyo who ruled with cruelty and oppression. Kaito believed that by exposing the daimyo's corruption, he could bring justice to the people. He asked for Kaede's assistance in gathering information from the teahouse's influential patrons.
Reluctantly, Kaede agreed, and together, they embarked on a treacherous path filled with deceit and danger. As the days passed, they uncovered dark secrets that could expose the daimyo's crimes. However, their actions did not go unnoticed.
One evening, as Kaede performed for a gathering of influential men, a sinister figure appeared in the shadows. It was the vengeful spirit of a geisha named Akiko, who had perished in Yoshiwara under tragic circumstances. Her ghostly form was veiled in a blood-red kimono, and her eyes burned with malevolence.
Akiko's haunting began subtly—a chill in the air, whispers of despair, and a feeling of dread that hung over the teahouse like a shroud. Kaede, sensing the supernatural presence, knew that they had awakened a vengeful spirit.
Desperate to protect Kaede, Kaito sought the guidance of a local exorcist, who revealed the tragic story of Akiko. She had been a geisha in love with a samurai, but their forbidden love had led to betrayal and death. Her restless spirit sought vengeance on those who dared to love across societal boundaries.
With the exorcist's help, Kaito and Kaede embarked on a perilous journey to confront Akiko's spirit and offer her the peace she so desperately sought. In a climactic showdown, they faced the vengeful geisha, revealing the truth behind her betrayal and death.
As the first light of dawn bathed the Yoshiwara district, Akiko's spirit dissipated, her eyes filled with sorrow and resignation. The curse she had cast upon the teahouse lifted, and peace returned to the district.
Kaede and Kaito's love story continued, forever marked by the supernatural forces they had encountered. The teahouse thrived once more, its lanterns casting their warm glow over the enchanting district, where love knew no boundaries and forgiveness transcended even death.
"The Haunting of the Geisha" became a legend whispered among geisha in Yoshiwara, a testament to the enduring power of love and the consequences of forbidden desires in the mysterious world of Edo-era Tokyo.
End of Chapter 3: "The Haunting of the Geisha"
Chapter 4: "The Onryo's Revenge"
In the heart of a decaying city, where abandoned buildings stood as silent witnesses to forgotten tragedies, a group of urban explorers would stumble upon a place where the restless dead held their sinister dominion.
Chapter 4: "The Onryo's Revenge"
The city of Kurayami had fallen into disrepair, its once-thriving industries crumbling, and its streets echoing with the memories of better days. Among its many derelict structures was the forsaken Kurayami Hospital, a place whispered about only in fearful tales.
Rumors spoke of a curse that had befallen the hospital after a gruesome series of medical experiments in the early 20th century. Patients had been subjected to horrific procedures, and their agonized cries still seemed to reverberate through the corridors.
A group of urban explorers, lured by the thrill of the forbidden and the allure of the macabre, set their sights on Kurayami Hospital. Among them was Hiroshi, the group's leader, and Yumi, a budding photographer with an affinity for capturing the eerie beauty of abandoned places.
As the explorers entered the hospital's crumbling entrance, they were greeted by the musty scent of decay and the eerie silence of long-abandoned hallways. Shadows danced in the dim light as they ventured deeper into the forsaken building, their footsteps echoing like distant whispers.
The group's excitement turned to unease as they encountered signs of the hospital's dark past—rusty surgical instruments, bloodstained gurneys, and cryptic medical notes. Yumi's camera captured it all, each photograph revealing more about the hospital's gruesome history.
As night fell, the explorers gathered in the hospital's decrepit lobby, their flashlights casting trembling beams into the darkness. It was then that they heard it—a faint, mournful wail, like the keening of a soul in torment.
Hiroshi, the group's fearless leader, brushed off their concerns, attributing the sound to the wind or their imagination. But the cries grew louder and more anguished, echoing through the halls.
The group became separated as they navigated the labyrinthine corridors. Yumi, camera in hand, wandered into the hospital's disused psychiatric ward. There, in a shadowed corner, she saw her camera's flash reveal a horrifying apparition—an onryo, a vengeful spirit with long, disheveled hair and eyes filled with hatred.
The onryo's spectral form contorted with rage as it approached Yumi. Its icy fingers reached out, and she felt an otherworldly coldness pierce her very soul. She knew that this was the spirit of a patient who had suffered unimaginable horrors in the hospital.
As Yumi's companions searched for her, they stumbled upon the onryo's lair and witnessed the terrifying encounter. In a desperate bid to save Yumi, they searched for a way to pacify the vengeful spirit.
Through a combination of research and communication with a local historian, they learned the full extent of the hospital's atrocities. Armed with this knowledge, they returned to the onryo's domain to confront the spirit and offer it the peace it had been denied for so long.
In a climactic showdown, the group faced the onryo, revealing the hospital's dark secrets and acknowledging the suffering of the tormented souls within. With profound remorse, they begged for forgiveness on behalf of those who had perpetrated the atrocities.
As the first rays of dawn broke over Kurayami, the onryo's anguished wails transformed into a mournful sigh. The spirit, its wrath finally quelled, dissipated into the ether, leaving behind a sense of profound sadness and closure.
The group of urban explorers emerged from Kurayami Hospital, forever changed by their encounter with the supernatural. They had confronted the past and offered redemption to the restless dead, leaving the decaying city with a newfound sense of hope.
"The Onryo's Revenge" became a cautionary tale among urban explorers, a reminder that some places are best left undisturbed, and that the past, no matter how dark, can be confronted and reconciled.
End of Chapter 4: "The Onryo's Revenge"
Chapter 5: "The Dollmaker's Curse"
In a remote mountain village, nestled among mist-shrouded peaks, a master dollmaker crafted exquisite creations that captured the hearts of collectors worldwide. Yet, within her secluded workshop, a malevolent force lurked—one that would ensnare a curious journalist in a nightmarish world of living dolls and dark secrets.
Chapter 5: "The Dollmaker's Curse"
Hidden away in the secluded village of Ichiban, known only to those who ventured deep into the mountains, lived a master dollmaker named Ai. Her dolls were celebrated for their lifelike beauty and craftsmanship, with collectors from distant lands coveting her creations.
One brisk autumn morning, a journalist named Keiko received a cryptic letter from a source in Ichiban, hinting at a sinister mystery surrounding Ai's dolls. Intrigued by the enigmatic message, Keiko embarked on a journey to the remote village, determined to uncover the truth.
Ichiban was a place untouched by time, its cobblestone streets winding through dense forests and past centuries-old homes. The village exuded an eerie tranquility, and the locals spoke in hushed tones about Ai's dolls, rumored to be infused with a piece of the human soul.
Upon reaching Ai's workshop, Keiko was greeted by the dollmaker herself, a woman of grace and poise. The workshop was a treasure trove of exquisite dolls, their eyes seeming to follow Keiko's every move. Among them, a particular doll known as Hikari stood out—a hauntingly beautiful creation with ebony hair and obsidian eyes.
As Keiko delved deeper into the village's mysteries, she discovered that Hikari was believed to house the soul of a deceased child, a belief held by both Ai and the villagers. The doll's unsettling presence and the uncanny resemblance it bore to a girl named Mei, who had died tragically years ago, sent shivers down Keiko's spine.
Keiko's nights in Ichiban were filled with restless dreams of porcelain dolls that came to life. In these dreams, Hikari beckoned her to uncover the truth behind the dollmaker's creations. Guided by an inexplicable compulsion, Keiko embarked on a quest to unearth the dark secrets hidden within Ai's workshop.
As Keiko investigated further, she uncovered Ai's own tragic past—a story of unrequited love, loss, and a desperate desire to capture the essence of the human soul in her dolls. With each revelation, the line between the living and the lifeless blurred, and Keiko felt herself becoming entangled in a nightmarish world.
The dolls that had once been works of art now seemed to harbor malevolence. They moved of their own accord, their eyes filled with an eerie, lifelike intensity. Keiko realized that Ai's obsession had bound her to a sinister force, and her creations hungered for more than just existence.
In a chilling climax, Keiko confronted Ai and the curse that had gripped her creations. Together, they sought to break the curse's hold and release the trapped souls within the dolls.
As the moon hung low in the night sky, Ai performed a solemn ritual, guided by the spirit of Mei, whose essence had been captured in Hikari. The dolls, imbued with a restless energy, gathered around, their haunting eyes watching as the curse was lifted.
With a mournful sigh, the dolls' porcelain features softened, and their malevolence dissipated. The spirit of Mei was set free, and the dolls became lifeless once more, their beauty preserved in eternal stillness.
Ichiban returned to its peaceful slumber, and Keiko departed with a newfound appreciation for the power of art and the depths of human longing. The village's haunting tale of the dollmaker's curse served as a reminder that some obsessions could lead to the creation of something far more sinister than art itself.
End of Chapter 5: "The Dollmaker's Curse"
Chapter 6: "The Shadow in the Forest"
In a land steeped in history and tradition, the Aokigahara Forest, known as the "Suicide Forest," concealed a dark secret. Within its dense, ancient foliage, a group of hikers would embark on a journey that would lead them into the heart of a malevolent force.
Chapter 6: "The Shadow in the Forest"
Deep within the prefecture of Yamanashi, shrouded in a perpetual mist, lay the infamous Aokigahara Forest—an expanse of ancient woodland that held a dark reputation. Known as the "Suicide Forest," it had been a site of countless tragic deaths throughout the centuries.
A group of adventurous hikers, seeking to conquer the wilderness and challenge the forest's ominous legends, gathered on a chilly autumn morning. Among them was Akira, an experienced guide with a deep respect for the forest's history, and Yumi, a young woman in search of adventure and solace from her own troubled past.
The hikers ventured deep into the forest, their footsteps muffled by the thick blanket of moss and fallen leaves. The dense canopy above cast eerie shadows, and the trees seemed to whisper secrets of sorrow and despair.
As they trekked further into the woods, they began to notice strange occurrences—a disconcerting sense of being watched, distant whispers on the wind, and ghostly apparitions that flickered at the edge of their vision. Akira, the guide, attributed these phenomena to the forest's ominous reputation and urged the group to press on.
Yet, the forest's grip on their minds and senses tightened. Yumi, in particular, felt a strange connection to the haunting forces that seemed to lurk behind every tree. Inexplicable visions of tragedy and despair flashed before her eyes, and a sense of overwhelming dread enveloped her.
Night descended on the forest, and the hikers set up camp, their flickering campfire offering the only semblance of comfort in the oppressive darkness. It was then that Yumi encountered a spectral figure—a yūrei, her kimono tattered and her eyes empty voids.
The yūrei beckoned to Yumi, her voice a mournful echo. Unable to resist, Yumi followed the apparition into the depths of the forest, her companions unaware of her disappearance. The yūrei led her to a clearing where an ancient tree stood, its gnarled roots forming a grotesque face.
As Yumi approached the tree, she felt a malevolent presence—an ancient spirit of the forest itself. It spoke to her, revealing the tragic history of Aokigahara—the place where those who had lost hope sought refuge in death.
Yumi learned of the forest's vengeful guardian, a yūrei born of countless lost souls, whose suffering fueled its malevolence. It was the embodiment of the forest's sorrow, forever bound to torment those who ventured within.
Realizing that Yumi was now connected to the yūrei, her companions embarked on a desperate search to rescue her from the forest's clutches. With the guidance of Akira's knowledge and determination, they confronted the vengeful spirit, revealing the pain of their own pasts and the impact of their actions on the world around them.
As the first rays of dawn bathed Aokigahara in a pale light, the yūrei's malevolence waned, and its grip on Yumi loosened. With a final sigh, it dissipated into the morning mist, its haunting presence released from the forest.
Yumi was reunited with her companions, forever changed by her encounter with the malevolent spirit of Aokigahara. The forest's ominous reputation remained, a reminder of the darkness that could consume those who dared to venture too close to its heart.
"The Shadow in the Forest" served as a chilling testament to the mysteries of Aokigahara, where the past and the present intertwined, and the boundaries between life and death blurred beneath the ancient canopy.
End of Chapter 6: "The Shadow in the Forest"
Chapter 7: "The Haunting of the Yurei Inn"
In a remote village nestled among mist-covered mountains, a centuries-old inn held a sinister secret. When a weary traveler seeks refuge within its ancient walls, she becomes entangled in a web of supernatural mysteries that threaten to consume her soul.
Chapter 7: "The Haunting of the Yurei Inn"
The village of Okuyama was a hidden gem, nestled among towering peaks and blanketed in mist. Within this secluded haven stood the Yurei Inn, a centuries-old establishment steeped in history and whispered legends. Its age-old charm masked a sinister truth—a haunting presence that had plagued the inn for generations.
Amidst a dense fog, a lone traveler named Rei arrived in Okuyama, weary and seeking shelter from the elements. The Yurei Inn, with its rustic charm and flickering lanterns, seemed like the perfect refuge. Little did Rei know that her stay at the inn would unravel the mysteries hidden within its ancient walls.
Upon her arrival, Rei was greeted by the inn's elderly proprietress, Eiko, a woman whose weathered features and deep knowledge of the village's history hinted at a deeper connection to the inn's haunting past.
As Rei settled into her room, the oppressive atmosphere within the inn became palpable. Shadows seemed to dance in the corners of her vision, and strange, ghostly whispers echoed in the corridors. Unbeknownst to her, Rei had become a pawn in a centuries-old battle between the inn and the vengeful spirits that resided within.
In the dead of night, Rei awoke to a chilling presence at her bedside—an ethereal yurei, her white burial kimono flowing like a spectral river. The vengeful spirit's eyes held an insatiable hunger, and she reached out to Rei, her fingers icy and skeletal.
Rei's nights became torment as she encountered more yurei within the inn, each with their own tragic stories of betrayal, injustice, and unfulfilled desires. The spirits sought vengeance, and Rei's presence within the inn had awakened their malevolence.
Desperate to uncover the inn's secrets and free herself from the spirits' relentless pursuit, Rei sought the guidance of Eiko. The elderly proprietress revealed the tragic history of the inn—an establishment built on the suffering of countless souls who had met their demise within its walls.
Eiko's own family had been entangled in the inn's dark legacy, and she bore the weight of their deeds. Together, Rei and Eiko embarked on a journey to confront the yurei and offer them redemption, hoping to break the cycle of suffering that had plagued the inn for centuries.
In a harrowing confrontation with the vengeful spirits, Rei and Eiko unveiled the truth behind the inn's cursed history and acknowledged the pain of the souls that had been wronged. With heartfelt apologies and rituals of atonement, they sought to release the spirits from their torment.
As the first rays of dawn bathed Okuyama in a golden light, the yurei's spectral forms dissolved into the ether, their eyes filled with a mix of sorrow and gratitude. The Yurei Inn, once a place of darkness, now held the promise of redemption.
Rei departed from Okuyama, forever marked by her encounter with the supernatural. The Yurei Inn, now cleansed of its malevolent spirits, stood as a testament to the power of reconciliation and the hope of breaking the chains of the past.
"The Haunting of the Yurei Inn" became a cautionary tale among villagers, a reminder that the sins of the past could be confronted and forgiven, even in the face of vengeful spirits.
End of Chapter 7: "The Haunting of the Yurei Inn"
Chapter 8: "The Curse of the Haunted Kimono"
In the heart of Kyoto, where tradition and modernity intertwined, a family heirloom, an ancient kimono, carried a chilling curse that had plagued generations. A woman must delve into her family's history to uncover the origins of the curse and find a way to break it before it consumes her and her loved ones.
Chapter 8: "The Curse of the Haunted Kimono"
Kyoto, the city of a thousand temples, was a place where time seemed to stand still. Among the historic districts, the Nakamura family had passed down a treasured heirloom for generations—an exquisite silk kimono adorned with intricate embroidery, a relic of a bygone era.
The kimono had always been a source of fascination and reverence within the Nakamura family. It was said to be imbued with mystical powers, protecting its wearer from harm and misfortune. But beneath its ornate beauty lay a dark secret—a curse that had haunted the family for centuries.
Emi, the youngest of the Nakamura family, had grown up hearing stories of the kimono's mystical properties and the curse that clung to it. When her grandmother passed away, leaving the kimono in her care, Emi became the latest custodian of this fabled garment.
As the years passed, strange occurrences began to plague Emi and her family. The kimono seemed to have a malevolent presence, causing nightmares, unexplained accidents, and a growing sense of dread. Emi's husband, Toshiro, and their young daughter, Yuki, bore the brunt of the curse's effects.
Desperate to protect her loved ones, Emi embarked on a quest to uncover the origins of the curse and find a way to break it. She delved into her family's history, poring over ancient scrolls and consulting with local priests and scholars.
Through her research, Emi learned of a tragic love story that had been concealed for generations—a forbidden romance between a Nakamura ancestor and a woman from a rival clan. The lovers had been torn apart by a vengeful spirit, and their love had been sealed within the cursed kimono.
With newfound determination, Emi sought out the help of a renowned exorcist, who revealed that the curse could only be broken by reconciling the spirits of the star-crossed lovers and offering them a chance at eternal peace.
Emi, Toshiro, and Yuki embarked on a journey to the ancestral shrine of the Nakamura family, where they conducted a solemn ritual to appease the vengeful spirits. As they offered their prayers and made heartfelt apologies on behalf of their ancestors, a profound sense of forgiveness washed over them.
In a climactic moment, the cursed kimono transformed, its once malevolent aura dissipating into the ether. The spirits of the star-crossed lovers, now free from their torment, appeared before Emi and her family, their eyes filled with gratitude.
As the cherry blossoms rained down upon Kyoto, Emi, Toshiro, and Yuki returned home with a newfound sense of peace and closure. The kimono, no longer cursed, became a symbol of their family's resilience and the enduring power of love and forgiveness.
"The Curse of the Haunted Kimono" served as a reminder that the sins of the past could be atoned for and that the bonds of love and family could transcend even the darkest of curses.
End of Chapter 8: "The Curse of the Haunted Kimono"
Chapter 9: "The Mirror's Malevolence"
In a quiet suburban neighborhood, an antique mirror with a sinister past found its way into the home of a young couple. As they unwittingly unleashed the malevolent spirit trapped within, they must confront the mirror's dark history to save themselves and their family.
Chapter 9: "The Mirror's Malevolence"
In a serene suburban neighborhood, where cherry blossoms bloomed with each passing spring, lived a young couple, Hiroshi and Aiko, who were enamored with the charm of their new home. They had recently moved into a quaint, old-fashioned house that came with a peculiar antique mirror.
The mirror was ornate and beautiful, its frame adorned with delicate carvings of cherry blossoms. It had been left behind by the previous owner, a recluse who had passed away under mysterious circumstances. Little did Hiroshi and Aiko know that this mirror carried a malevolent secret.
As they settled into their new home, strange occurrences began to unfold. Reflections in the mirror seemed to distort, showing glimpses of eerie, shadowy figures lurking in the background. At night, whispers filled the room as if unseen voices murmured from within the glass.
Aiko, with her fascination for the occult, was the first to sense the mirror's sinister aura. She delved into research, uncovering tales of a cursed mirror that had plagued the previous owner's family for generations.
The mirror had once belonged to a vengeful spirit, a yūrei who had perished in despair. Its malevolence was bound to the glass, and those who possessed it were tormented by the spirit's relentless anger and sorrow.
Desperate to free themselves from the mirror's curse, Hiroshi and Aiko sought the guidance of a spiritual medium. Through a series of rituals and séances, they made contact with the vengeful spirit trapped within the mirror.
The spirit's story unfolded like a tragic drama—the yūrei had been a young woman in love with a man from a rival clan. Their love was forbidden, and when their secret was discovered, they had both met a grisly end. Her spirit had been bound to the mirror as punishment for her defiance of societal norms.
With the medium's help, Hiroshi and Aiko offered prayers and apologies on behalf of the mirror's original owner, seeking forgiveness for the wrongs committed against the vengeful spirit. They vowed to help the spirit find peace and redemption.
In a chilling climax, they conducted a final ritual, allowing the yūrei to pass on and find the solace she had been denied for centuries. As they gazed into the mirror one last time, they saw the spirit's reflection fade into the distance, her eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and farewell.
The mirror, now cleansed of its malevolence, became a symbol of hope and renewal for Hiroshi and Aiko. Their family flourished, and the cherry blossoms in their garden bloomed with newfound vibrancy, a testament to the enduring power of love and forgiveness.
"The Mirror's Malevolence" served as a chilling reminder that even the most innocuous objects could carry dark secrets, and that confronting the past and seeking redemption could break the bonds of even the most malevolent curses.
End of Chapter 9: "The Mirror's Malevolence"
Chapter 10: "The Bridge to the Beyond"
In a remote mountain village, isolated from the modern world, a historic bridge served as a link between the living and the dead. When a group of travelers crossed its ancient planks, they would discover the chilling truth behind the bridge's supernatural origins.
Chapter 10: "The Bridge to the Beyond"
Deep within the heart of the Japanese mountains, nestled among ancient forests and shrouded in mist, lay the village of Yamanokawa. It was a place where tradition and superstition still held sway, and the bridge that spanned the river was both a lifeline and a gateway to the unknown.
A group of adventurous travelers, drawn by the allure of Yamanokawa's untouched beauty, embarked on a journey to explore the village's remote reaches. Among them were Kaito, a historian with an insatiable curiosity, and Mia, a photographer who sought to capture the essence of this secluded world.
The village's centerpiece was the Akane Bridge, a weathered structure made of ancient wood and adorned with centuries-old lanterns. Its planks creaked with the weight of history, and the river below whispered tales of lives long gone.
As the travelers ventured deeper into Yamanokawa, they discovered that the villagers held a profound reverence for the bridge. It was said to be a link between the living and the dead, a place where offerings were made to appease the spirits that dwelled in the surrounding forest.
As night descended, the travelers set up camp near the Akane Bridge, its lanterns casting an eerie, flickering glow on the river's surface. It was then that they heard the sound—a mournful melody that seemed to emanate from the bridge itself.
Mia, driven by curiosity, followed the haunting tune to the bridge's edge. There, bathed in an otherworldly light, she saw a figure—a woman in a white kimono, her long hair flowing like an ebony waterfall.
The woman, whose name was Hikari, revealed herself to be a yūrei, a spirit bound to the Akane Bridge for centuries. She had once been a young bride whose love had been torn apart by a tragic accident on her wedding day. Her spirit was eternally linked to the bridge, where she waited for her beloved to return.
Kaito, the historian, delved into the village's archives and uncovered the tragic story of Hikari's past. It was a tale of love and loss, of a bride whose life had been cut short, and a groom whose heart had been forever scarred by grief.
With newfound determination, the travelers sought to reunite the spirits of Hikari and her beloved. They embarked on a journey deep into the forest, following a path laden with offerings and prayers.
At the heart of the forest, they discovered an ancient shrine dedicated to love and reconciliation. There, in a poignant ceremony, they offered heartfelt prayers and apologies on behalf of the villagers and the groom who had never returned.
As the first light of dawn broke over Yamanokawa, a sense of serenity washed over the Akane Bridge. Hikari's spectral form dissolved into the river's mist, her eyes filled with a mix of longing and gratitude.
The travelers departed from Yamanokawa, forever changed by their encounter with the supernatural. The Akane Bridge, now freed from its haunting past, stood as a testament to the enduring power of love and the hope of reuniting even in the afterlife.
"The Bridge to the Beyond" became a legend whispered among villagers, a reminder that some bonds could transcend time and that the spirit of love endured even in the face of eternity.
End of Chapter 10: "The Bridge to the Beyond"
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