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The Mountain of Skulls
| Article
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18265 |
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Section : |
CULTURE
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| Issue
Date : |
10 / 1990 |
872 Words |
| Author
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Lafcadio Hearn
His desire to escape the materialism of the West led Lafcadio
Hearn to Japan in 1890, and he remained there for the rest of
his life. A great interpreter of his adopted culture, he
published English versions of stories that penetrate its very
essence and render its traditions more comprehensible to
Westerners. This story is reprinted from In Ghostly Japan
(Rutland, Vermont: Charles E. Tuttle Company, Inc., 1971); the
book was originally published in 1899 by Little, Brown, and
Co. |
And it was at the hour of sunset that they came to the foot of the mountain. There was in that place no sign of life, - neither token of water, nor trace of plant, nor shadow of flying bird - nothing but desolation rising to desolation. And the summit was lost in heaven. Then the Bodhisattva said to his young companion: - "What you have asked to see will be shown to you. But the place of the Vision is far; and the way is rude. Follow after me, and do not fear: strength will be given you."
Twilight gloomed about them as they climbed. There was no beaten path, nor any mark of former human visitation; and the way was over an endless heaping of tumbled fragments that rolled or turned beneath the foot. Sometimes a mass dislodged would clatter down with hollow echoings; - sometimes the substance trodden would burst like an empty shell. … Stars pointed and thrilled; - and the darkness deepened.
"Do not fear, my son," said the Bodhisattva, guiding: "danger there is none, though the way be grim."
Under the stars they climbed, - fast, fast, - mounting by help of power superhuman. High zones of mist they passed; and they saw below them, ever widening as they climbed, a soundless flood of cloud, like the tide of a milky sea.
Hour after hour they climbed; - and forms invisible yielded to their tread with dull soft crashings; - and faint cold fires lighted and died at every breaking.
And once the pilgrim-youth laid hand on something smooth that was not stone, - and lifted it, - and dimly saw the cheekless gibe of death.
"Linger not thus, may son!" urged the voice of the teacher; - "the summit that we must gain is very far away!"
On through the dark they climbed, - and felt continually beneath them the soft strange breakings, - and saw the icy fires worm and die, - till the rim of the night turned grey, and the stars began to fail, and the east began to bloom.
Yet still they climbed, - fast, fast, - mounting by help of power superhuman. About them now was frigidness of death, - and silence tremendous. … A gold flame kindled in the east.
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