| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Kwaidan by Lafcadio Hearn: and then everybody cried out to you, 'Raincoat Insect!' (Mino-mushi.) [14]
And during that period of your life, your sins were grievous. Among the
tender green leaves of beautiful cherry-trees you and your fellows
assembled, and there made ugliness extraordinary; and the expectant eyes of
the people, who came from far away to admire the beauty of those
cherry-trees, were hurt by the sight of you. And of things even more
hateful than this you were guilty. You knew that poor, poor men and women
had been cultivating daikon (2) in their fields,-- toiling under the hot
sun till their hearts were filled with bitterness by reason of having to
care for that daikon; and you persuaded your companions to go with you, and
to gather upon the leaves of that daikon, and on the leaves of other
Kwaidan |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Wyoming by William MacLeod Raine: "Guess again. I have a thing, or two to say to that."
"You're going to Gimlet Butte with us, alive or dead."
The outlaw intentionally misunderstood. "If I've got to take y'u,
then we'll say y'u go dead rather than alive."
"He was going to take Nora and me with him," Helen explained to
her friends.
Instantly the man swung round on her. "But now I've changed my
mind, ma'am. I'm going to take my cousin with me instead of y'u
ladies."
Helen caught his meaning first, and flashed it whitely to her
lover. It dawned on him more slowly.
|
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Goodness of St. Rocque and Other Stories by Alice Dunbar: brink of the river, she sat on a log, and impatiently pulled off
the little cap she wore. The skies were gray, heavy, overcast,
with an occasional wind-rift in the clouds that only revealed new
depths of grayness behind; the tideless waters murmured a faint
ripple against the logs and jutting beams of the breakwater, and
were answered by the crescendo wail of the dried reeds on the
other bank,--reeds that rustled and moaned among themselves for
the golden days of summer sunshine.
He stood up, his dark form a slender silhouette against the sky;
she looked upward from her log, and their eyes met with an
exquisite shock of recognising understanding; dark eyes into dark
The Goodness of St. Rocque and Other Stories |
