the string

THE STRING by Kristoff N. Chester

Of the 196.6 million square miles that make up the surface of the earth, I believe there is no more enigmatic and secretive a space then the 3.7 million that make up the land of China. The vanguard of all civilization, it is possible more has been lost and forgotten by the elder nation then any other force on earth.

I once devoted myself to the study of their history. The old moss covered stone work and the folk songs and tales of a world of uncountable inhabitants. I poured over the legends of holy mountains and of insidious depths. When, by what I hope was only chance, I came across a name, that stuck out ever so sorely.

Amosia, such a name is not typical for Chinese lore. The oddness of this name lured me into seeking it out more. I found roots for it in a poem “Shānshàng de mù'ǒu” roughly meaning “the puppeteer on the mountain.” the poem recites a encounter a sage had with an evil creature atop a mountain. In the end the creature is bound to the mountain and a temple placed atop it.

Another poem “Tā děngdàizhuó shuí de zhōng shēng” or “she who awaits the bell” recounts a similar event but this one states the use of a holy bell to bar the beast from freedom. In this version it is also said the creature is a dragon, or some other sort of god-like being.

My trail came to a climax with the discovery of a play write whom was seeking to produce a play after the legend. I sought him out, an elderly ecstatic man. When I met him he dressed in a suit and tails with red blush on his face. I found him rather flamboyant, and though he proved a treasure trove of information there was something all together wrong about him. The way his arms moved so stiffly and the way his lips moved, even though he seemed very pleased to have someone interested in his work his lips never curved up in a smile, nor did they twist down, but rather they kept flat only parting when he uttered a word.

The man told me that the poem's mountain was real and, in almost disturbing detail told me where I would find it. Traveling to China was common for me and so I decided to investigate the poetic location myself. The trip itself was uncomfortable, along with the tedious run around of airport security I was haunted with unsettling dreams. In which I beheld burning ruins and humans dancing. Always the dreams would end abruptly when I turned my gaze skyward.

After landing in China and getting through the muddle of security I finally set my eyes on the mountain I sought. It loomed high on the horizon and to reach it I would need to cross rural country side that would offer few places to get supplies and rest. This was the only thing I really dreaded at the time. The thought of having to sleep in a rental car on the side of a road in the woods of China unnerved me, but not enough to stop me from making the journey.

The trip took longer then I planned. Every day I drove until the sun went down then pull over to the side of the road and sleep, but each morning the mountain seemed farther then it had when I went to sleep. What I expected to be a days drive became three. On the last night I decided to brave the unlit road and drove on till at last I was at the base. I was afraid if I slept again the mountain would move once more, but the path up was too dangerous to traverses in the dark. So I waited, always keeping my eyes on the mountain, dreading that a blink could send the mountain away into the distance.

When the sun did rise at last I was too tired to be happy. All that mattered was getting up to the top. It was only then I suddenly wondered what I was looking for anyway. I hadn't even thought to ask any locals if there even was a temple atop this mountain, or even close by it. I had blindly trucked to this mass of stone and trees. I didn't even ever try to see if I could see any signs of a building at it's zenith.

This revaluation frightened me and for a moment a thought seeped into my mind. Had the monster in the poem, not been called a puppeteer? Could some unseen force be pulling me to this place, Hellbent to unleash some nightmare from the dawn of humanity? Perhaps my years of delving into legends had gotten to me. I prayed that was the case and somberly made my way up the path.

I grew nervous as the path became more smooth and steady, like others had come before me and made the way to some destination on the top. There was more proof of this has I went. Small shrines and alters occasionally sat beside the road, most were covered with moss or broken but a few seemed to be in good shape as if gentle hands had attended to them.

My sense of direction and time again came into question when I stopped to keep the time. Though my watch showed it was about noon the sun was still low in the sky. I told myself it was simply a effect of jet lag, I just had not adjusted my clock to match the time zone; however, I recalled the old Taoist lore of the mystic power of “shrinking the land” the power supernatural beings had to alter the flow and ebb of time and land mass.

I walked on even has I recounted more of the supernatural lore and tales of mysticism. This tales pulled at my mind making me wish to turn back, but I couldn't I had to go on. Something was atop this mountain and I had to see it with my own eyes. My reluctance grew worse as I saw new stone shapes dotting the side of the path. Small stones with curved smooth tops and characters inscribed upon them. Grave markers, icons of others who had come and perished on this path.

I stopped once more to look for the sun and discovered it was now hanging low in the other side of the sky. It was then, in the dusk that I saw it. A small temple, in terrible disarray. Time had pummeled the place, may of it's boards were wrapped and broken, webs clung to corners and arches. Most disturbing was the many head stones that stood before the temple. A sight made all the more imposing for the long shadows of the coming night.

I timidly crossed the graveyard and entered through the large opening in the front of the temple. Inside it was dark, but in the blackness I heard the shuffle of feet. Suddenly a light flickered, as a candle was lit. then another, and another. In the gloom I saw a figure clad in black robes with golden lacing and a straw, wide brimmed hat. He said nothing as he slowly walked around lighting the candles.

When at last the chamber was well lit by seemingly countless candles the figure turned to me, they kept their head tilted down, their hat blocking view of their face. His words were shallow and faint as if it was coming from farther away then he stood. He spoke in a form of Chinese I found hard to follow. It was nether traditional nor mandarin. But among the strange words I heard clearly Amosia.

I excitedly acknowledged the name and the figure paused. Then without another word they turned and started walking to the far end of the chamber where a massive curtain loomed. I turned and looked around the room and sudden remembered something horrible. I remember what I had seen in the sky in my dreams, and why I always suddenly awoke. On the wall was a carving of a great dragon with long hair looming over buildings, with humans dancing before it. It's hair connected to the humans like the strings of a puppets. I wanted to scream but noise from the far end of the room snapped my attention.

The figure pulled a rope and slowly the curtain rose up. Beyond it was a raised platform with a large silk pillow. I stepped closer and closer. I noticed silk threads seemed to drape off the pillow in all directions. The figure never made a move to stop me as I stepped up the platform and beheld what lay in the middle of the pillow.

I moved some of the white silk and found they all sprouted from the head of a creature. It was dog. A purple, emaciated dog! I stepped back as the skinny creature shifted and lifted it's head. I tried to keep my courage before the disgusting sight, but my nerve broke when it opened it's mouth and spoke. A sound more like breaking glass then words rang from it's mouth and finally I screamed and turned to run.

I flailed my arms has I tripped over something and fell to the floor. I looked back at saw I had tripped over a silk thread. One that was going from the creature to my leg! I was frantic as I tried to pull the string off me, but I could not find where it came to a end or tie. It was like it simply led into my skin!

The figure reached out to me and waited with it's hand out. Looking at it I screamed again. There was no skin, nor flesh at all, just old chipping bone. I lay there breathless, to exhausted to scream any more. Finally I fearfully reached out and took the boney hand, with great strength I was pulled to my feet and once more I stood before the creature. Again it spoke in it's shattering voice but now it was with a slight clarity. It spoke of a great betrayal and of unjust judgment. The death of kings and war among gods. It all tore at my mind and yet I wanted to hear it all. Lore, history from before history. This creature, Amosia had no intent of harming me, nor any other being.

I felt pity for this being, has it told me of a wondrous age of gods. When it entertained gods with tales and dance and beautiful words. Alas the age ended with a great war. Amosia wished to not take part in the conflict and for her neutrality she was punished with imprisonment.

I sat in wonder has she spoke more. Even though I didn't understand what she was said I could strangely piece it all together, like I had heard the language before but only for instances at a time. Some others had tried to free her, with the forging of a mighty bell, a bell to usher in the greatest of plays.

I gazed upward and saw high in the rafters was a huge iron bell. If the bell would ring out then Amosia would be freed once more. It was too heavy for any to jar though. I found a rope that worked with pulleys to slam the bell with a battering ram. I realized that the graves outside, and among the mountain where of the people who erected this bell and temple, all to jury rig a way of ringing this bell and restoring the tragic god.

I tightly gripped the rope and was about to pull when I once again saw the depiction of the great dragon among ruins. I remembered the flames in my dreams. I pondered on how I had come here seemingly with no will of my own and the poems. I thought of the strange man who told me of this mountain and grimly recalled how he moved ever so stiff and unnaturally. More like a puppet on strings!

I stepped away from the rope as I realized the truth. This creature was not some innocent victim of an angry god, it was a monster rightfully locked away! Enslaving others for it's own morbid entertainment! I backed away refusing to pull the rope even has the figure started towards me with both it's hands reached out. I grabbed one of the candles, ignoring the sting of the hot wax and threw it at the figure.

The skeleton screeched has it's robes ignited. Even though it was clearly in pain it still moved closer, I stepped back and hissed in pain as I felt hot wax brush my skin, several of the candles fell to the floor and smoke started to rise as the flames inched out in all directions. I backed away coughing and trying to keep my mouth covered. In the smoke I heard the voice of Amosia again, it seethed with anger. I also heard the sound of cluttering bones as the figure was over taken by flame. The roar of the fire soon drowned out all other noise though.

I staggered out of the temple and looked back at the pillar of smoke and heat. For a moment I allowed myself to feel slight comfort. This feeling was dashed as from the temple came a massive thud followed by a gonging sound. All at once a great force pushed me over and knocked all the head stones down. I covered my face as the temple exploded. I was still on the ground with agonizing ringing in my ears when slowly I felt strong gusts of wind.

I looked upward and saw, among the smoke a massive form, giant wings beat at the fire as it's head became clearly viewable. Covered in scales with small horns at the end of it's nose and glowing eyes. The creature slowly rose into the sky on it's membranous wings until I saw the monster in all it's evil glory. Like a monstrous cross of dragon and canine. Again I heard the voice of shattering glass, but this time there were no words. Only a mad victorious laughter.

The laughter stopped all at once as the god looked down at me. It hovered in the air, the beating of it's wings making gusts of wind that threatened to cast me off the side of the mountain. Then just as soon as it had turned it's attention to me. It looked skyward and with a burst of speed it rocketed off pass the clouds.

I was slowly getting to my feet again when I felt a tug at my ankle. I looked down and shuttered in fear seeing the silk string from before, steadfastly being pulled skyward. I had time only to scream once as I was pulled up into the air, being towed along by Amosia, the god of puppets.