Friday, May 31, 2013

Of Wood, Voodoo and Llama (Part the Third)

And so The Three began their pilgrimage to find Oji and seek his help.
The problematic part of this quest though, was locating his hut. Oji was a curious creature who had a really short attention span and an aversion to monotony. That taken into account, it's justified why he moved his house from place to place whenever he felt like, making it really difficult for anyone to contact him. But the three pilgrims were old friends of Oji. Back in the Days of Awesome he had shared with them words of voodoo and a handful of his secrets. He had taken each one separately and trusted them with knowledge concerning the locations of three hidden doorbells.

  The first doorbell was kept in a rusty, wooden Chinese box inside an abandoned pagoda, far in the enchanting east. 
The second lied below, in the deep, frozen oceans of the north. Hidden within an ancient shipwreck and haunted by ghost pirates, sworn to guard the doorbell until the day Oji would release them from their curse. 
The last one was given by a djinn, to the first one that answered her three questions, regarding life, the universe and stuff. She was waiting patiently inside her oil lamp, buried in an underground temple, hidden in the deserts of the south.
And these were all of them.
Oji had no interest in the west or just not enough pilgrim friends.

After days of walking, a night with many stars and clouds shaped like donuts, The Three arrived at the Crossroad of the Worlds. They extendedly stared at each other for a while and then agreed to meet here again before the new moon rises. Once they would return with the three doorbells in their possession, they would ring them to summon Oji's house. Then he would welcome them and all reunited once again, they could have a tea party, with Mama Oji cookies and lots of sugar cubes for old times sake.
Thus, with minds set on their quests and chocolate filled pastries, the company parted ways.

They mounted mountains and crossed crossings. They faced dangers more dangerous than an unwashed finger dashing towards an unspectacled eye, but in the end they all reached their destinations.

When the first shaman reached the old pagoda, she spend three days meditating on a water lily inside a mystical pond. With the sole company of ex-prince frogs, she used her mind alone to visualize and solve the Chinese box. Then she entered the pagoda, casually opened the box and took the doorbell.

The one stranded in the north, summoned a giant seagull, rode him and dived like a meteor from the sky into the darkness of the freezing waters. He rammed the shipwreck and sent the pirate ghosts keelhauling under his steed's plumage. It tickled like hell. He emerged from the sea with the doorbell secured inside his seagull's beak and flew towards the perennial sunset.

The last pilgrim, all sweaty and drained from the journey in the sands, eventually arrived at the underground temple of the lady djinn. He polished her lamp a bit and she appeared in front of him with her three super-important questions. Not knowing any of the answers, the third pilgrim thought of a different bargain. He asked her how she felt being locked up in such a tight place for so long, about her troubled childhood and sensed that she must be feeling very lonely. The lady djinn was critically moved by his words and to make a long story short, he shagged his way out of it.

And then one night, The Three came back as they had agreed.
They rang their newly acquired doorbells and in front of them Oji's house appeared. It was a three-floor mansion with tattered windows and vines that reached the old attic at the top. That's what he fancied at the time. Oji opened the door, greeted them and with his only hand waved at them to come in.
They all acknowledged the lateness of the hour and that it was no proper time for tea, so they settled for a midnight dinner and got down to business.

Totemic masks covered their faces. Holding their staves in hand they formed a half circle around the fire which burned in the center of the main hall. Oji came and sat opposite to them. He remained there for a while, staring at the fire, perfectly still, like a wooden statue. A breeze came from the windows and touched the feathers on his mask. And he knew that is was time. He reached inside the black leather pouch in his belt and pulled something out. The small eyes in his hand were flickering with a pale green light. “Ashi-atchara. Homi-echara.” He chanted and with a quick move threw them in the fire. The Three followed his lead and did the same. A deep guttural sound was coming from their mouths as the fire started blazing. The room burst with light and inside the flames they saw the demon.

'He was sitting under Machusasha. His legs were crossed and his hands rested upon them. As the rain carved rivers on his forehead, he meditated for strength and fury on his strike. The great tomahawk was resting against the trunk of the elder tree and the ground vibrated from it's lustful anticipation.'

The image vanished and between the coals of the cold now fire a charred doll appeared. Oji picked it up and held it in his fireproof hand.
It was a granite figure of man wearing a golden headdress.

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