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From the Land of Snow (MFF, fairytale, inclement weather)
by Richard Rivers (richard_rivers@hotmail.com)
Date: December 1999
***
As always, I enjoy comments and particularly constructive criticism
from readers, if any exist. Many of the things I've written can be
found at this location:
ftp://ftp.asstr.org/pub/Authors/Richard_Rivers/
Richard Rivers
***
From the Land of Snow
There came a time when I found myself wandering in the mountains,
passing between two towns so remote their names have never appeared on
any map. Winter was approaching, a foolish time to be traveling, but
in those days I was accustomed to pushing myself. I took risks and
had little regard for personal safety or comfort.
As I neared the mountain pass, snow began to fall, blanketing the road
ahead and swirling about me. The day, already cruelly short at that
time of year, seemed to sputter and die suddenly. Night had caught me
alone and without shelter. A stranger to the region, I knew not how
far I had to go before reaching my destination or where I might turn
aside to rest for the night.
The snowfall grew heavier until I could barely make out the path in
front of me. For fear of stumbling off a precipice, I considered
crouching down where I stood, taking shelter beneath my cloak and
waiting out the storm. But at that moment I spotted a twinkle of
light up ahead.
At first I thought I imagined it - the kind of thing that happens to
lost and desperate men who see what they wish to see. But it came
again from just beside the path. Using the light as my guide, I moved
forward cautiously. There were legends of sorcerers and demons in the
area, stories well known to all wandering men. Not a superstitious
person by nature, I feared mortal men more than their supernatural
creations. Up ahead a hooded figure bearing a lantern stood by the
side of the road.
"Who waits there?" I called out with as much peril as I could put into
my voice, but the figure did not answer or move in any way.
When I was no more than a few paces from him, with terror rising in my
throat, the hood was thrown back revealing not a demon or sorcerer,
but the face of a weary-eyed old man, looking more tired than
dangerous.
"Who walks alone by night," he said, peering into my eyes.
I told him my name and my business and asked if he might shelter me
from the storm.
"Come then." He turned and led me into the thick forest bordering the
road.
The old man's house lay far into the woods, well off the road. When I
lay eyes on it, my heart leaped. With the lamps lit and fragrant
smoke pouring from the chimney, there was never a more welcome sight
to greet a traveler.
Inside the warmth and light of his house the old man spoke to me and
told me his name was Junichiro. Then he clapped his hands twice and
two women appeared and silently bowed before me. He introduced them
simply as his wife and daughter. Both beautiful, they appeared almost
as the virginal and mature manifestations of the same woman so alike
did they look to me. But neither of them bore any resemblance to
Junichiro. I glanced at him again. He was much older than his wife
and had the coarse features of the mountain people. The women
radiated grace and beauty such as I had only seen in sophisticated
city women.
Without a word they set about preparing food for me while Junichiro
found dry clothes of his own for me to wear. When I had eaten I found
it difficult to rise. My legs had grown stiff and I realized how
tired I had become climbing the steep mountain road. The three of
them helped me up and led me to a tiny room where a bed had been made
ready. Too tired to properly thank my hosts, I immediately fell
asleep.
During the night I woke to hear the storm still blowing outside.
Windows shook and I could hear the heavy timbers creak as the roof was
piled high with snow. There were other noises as well, but I
attributed them to delirium or fatigue. I imagined I heard a soft
wailing that seemed to rise up out of the floor. There were other
noises, guttural throaty cries, the kind lovers make to one another
when they lie together.
When I awoke the next morning snow was still falling. It continued
for three days while the four of us remained inside and watched the
drifts pile up higher than the eaves of the house. We spent the time
in conversation. My hosts said very little about themselves other
than their names. I learned that the wife's name was Sawako, her
daughter, Yuki. I was more than a little curious to know how a man
like Junichiro could find himself living alone in the mountains with
such a beautiful woman for a wife. There had to be an interesting
story behind the marriage but none of them volunteered to tell me. As
their guest, I felt it would have been rude to press them. However,
they were very curious to hear stories from the outside world. Having
spent most of my life as a wanderer, I had many things to tell them.
While the snow fell, I entertained them by recounting many of the
wonders I had seen.
One curious thing did happen during that time. In the course of my
storytelling, I happened to mention my age, twenty-seven years, which
carried no significance to me other than the fact that it is three,
multiplied by itself thrice. But Sawako clapped her hands and seemed
delighted when I mention this.
"This a good sign," she said, glancing towards her daughter. "You
see, I am thirty-six years of age, my daughter eighteen."
When I expressed bafflement, she went on to explain. "I am twice the
age of my daughter, and you, good guest, are exactly halfway between
us. Nine years separates you in age from each of us. Surely there is
something magical in all that."
The coincidence itself meant nothing to me. I am not a superstitious
person. But Sawako ascribed a great deal of importance to it. She
went on to ask the exact day of my birth and what I could tell her of
my parents. Unfortunately, I recalled nothing of them other than that
they had been killed by one of the epidemics sweeping the cities at
the time. My earliest memories were of the orphanage I ran away from
to take up wandering.
After three days the snow finally stopped and I helped Junichiro clear
a path to the woodpile and bathhouse. Although the distance was small
our labors took us an entire day and left us exhausted. Junichiro
said he had never seen such a snowfall in all his years. The drifts
were as high as the house. When I asked him how long he thought it
might be before the mountain road became passable again, he shook his
head. Even the usual amounts of snow could close the pass for weeks
at a time. With this much accumulation, he had no idea when I might
be able to continue my journey.
Junichiro's words made my spirits drop. I never stayed long in one
place before the bottoms of my feet began to itch for the road again.
But returning to the house we found the women in a joyful mood. They
were looking forward to taking baths again for the first time in three
days. Over a festive supper, Junichiro broke out some of his precious
store of sake and we toasted each other's health.
After we ate, Junichiro showed me how to light the fire beneath the
bathhouse. Since the well had been buried we filled the tub with snow
and let it melt. We stood outside and tended the fire, drinking more
warm sake while the women bathed. The night was clear and the
mountain air crisp. Sparks ascended into the moonless sky, and the
flames crackled loudly enough to echo off the surrounding snow-laden
trees. I breathed deeply the aroma of the burning cedar logs and the
steaming sake. From inside the bathhouse I heard the musical sounds
of laughter, and I realized that on the other side of the thin wall,
two naked women were entering warm water.
That night I slept more soundly than I could remember. The hard day's
labor followed by sake and a hot bath made me profoundly weary and
contented. I awoke once in the night and heard Junichiro and Sawako
making love through the thin ricepaper walls. In the bittersweet
moment, I realized my own isolation. How many years had I wandered?
How many places had I stopped without ever coming to rest? There had
been women, but always furtive and quick affairs of the flesh. What
joy to return to a warm bed at night, to a willing wife? The sounds
of Junichiro and Sawako blended into my dreams. There was the girl,
Yuki, unfastening the belt to her Kimono. Dressed all in white, she
approached, the edge of her mouth trembling. When I looked into her
eyes they changed and I found myself facing the cool smile of Sawako.
After the storm, the weather turned fine and clear. The winter sun
shined brightly, giving harsh light reflected off the snow but little
warmth. During the daytime I helped Junichiro clear more snow from
around the house and then we began making a path to the nearby lake.
He explained a rather ingenious way he had devised for catching fish
that lived beneath the ice. During the cold months, when there was no
other source of food, the family subsisted mainly on what he caught.
The lake was not far from the house, a distance that in normal times
could have been traversed in ten minutes, but it took us days to clear
a way.
During that time I felt my long dormant desire for a woman come to
life again. Sawako's observations about our ages proved to be
prophetic. I found myself drawn equally towards mother and daughter.
Each was equally distant from me. Yuki had delicate, fragile beauty.
Tiny about the waist and hips, with breasts small like new spring
buds, her body had not yet completely flowered into a woman's
fullness. She was shy as a mountain doe. Noticing my eyes on her,
she would lower her head or turn her face away. Sawako had the same
beauty as her daughter, but with the rounder maturity of a woman
evident in her hips and breasts. Quick to laugh, she had a studied
grace when dealing with me that I took as a sign she also knew many of
the feminine wiles and ways of love. Each night I fell asleep
dreaming of one and then the other, or the two of them at once.
When they were not cooking cleaning or mending, Yuki and Sawako spent
much of their idle time reading. I was embarrassed to admit I never
learned to read or write and I hid the fact from them for as long as I
could. Discovering my secret, Sawako insisted they could teach me.
>From then on, for an hour each afternoon they pointed out characters
in their books and made me recite them. But I proved a poor student.
When they knelt on either side of me their bodies would press up
against mine - the warm softness of Sawako on one side and the cool
and firm body of her daughter on the other. I could not keep my mind
on the characters I was supposed to have memorized. Junichiro, who
did not read, would grunt his disapproval and go out to check his
fishing lines.
One day he did not return. When the hour of study ended the three of
us waited for him but he did not come back. Sawako and Yuki stood
closed-mouthed by the door as I slipped into my boots and coat to go
look for him.
Near the lake I found him, nearly frozen to death.
"Junichiro!" I cried out when I saw him. "What has happened?"
Although barely able to speak, he explained that one of his lines had
become snagged, and pulling on it, he had fallen, breaking through the
ice.
"You will freeze to death," I said. "We have to get you into a warm
bath." But I was astonished to see him shake his head.
"No, it is too late." He placed a hand to his heart. "Death has me
already in her grasp."
"Impossible," I said. "Here, I will carry you." But he pushed me
away.
"There isn't time," he said. "Listen to me." His voice had almost
disappeared completely. "There is something I must tell you.
Something I could not say before for fear of an untimely death. But
now that it has found me anyway, I must speak it."
I drew my face close to his, so soft was his voice.
"Listen to me, my young friend. Listen well. My wife and daughter,
they are not mortal. They are demons, both of them!" He lapsed into
a fit of coughing before he could continue. "I will be gone soon.
When you are alone, you must not lie with them; not Yuki or Sawako!
Touch either one and you will be lost, devoured by them." The
wracking cough overcame him once again.
"But how can that be?" I asked, incredulous. "Why have you survived?
If they really are demons as you say, then why have they spared you?"
Junichiro barely had the strength left to speak. "There isn't time,"
he moaned and closed his eyes. I thought he had expired but he was
only resting. He opened them again a moment later. "You must do as I
say. Resist them. Do not give in, and when the snow clears, be gone
from here as quickly as you can. You must believe me. I hasten my
own death by telling you this."
I heard the crunch of running feet in the snow and turned to see Yuki
and Sawako approaching from the house. When I looked back at
Junichiro's face, it was frozen in death.
We buried him in grave near the house, painfully dug through snow and
frozen ground. For days after, both wife and daughter were distraught
over the death of their master. As if in answer, the weather turned
for the worse again and we were housebound by several more days of
snow. When I lay awake at night listening to the storm I heard again
the strange wailing I had heard before, only now I knew it came from
the rooms of Junichiro's wife and daughter.
I wondered about his warning to me. Both the women seemed genuinely
grieved by his death, hardly the reaction I would have expected from
demons. Each morning I woke to find them puffy-eyed from crying all
night. Their tears and grief seemed all too mortal. Junichiro could
not have been telling the truth. And then I wondered if his motive
had been to simply to deprive me of his wife and daughter. He did not
wish for me to take his place when he had gone. He meant to guard
what was his from beyond the grave by making me afraid of them. When
I settled upon that notion, all seemed to fall into place. I could
not even fault him for it.
When the snow stopped I undertook again the task of clearing a path to
the woodpile and bathhouse. Now that I worked alone the job took
several days of backbreaking labor. After that I began clearing the
way to the lake. If we were going to survive the winter, I would have
to quickly match Junichiro's skill catching fish. All the while I
worked, I hardly saw Yuki and Sawako. When I arrived back at the
house in the evening they had already gone to their rooms having left
a simple meal waiting for me.
And then life began to return to the way it had been before. I easily
fell into the roles and responsibilities that had been Junichiro's.
The women ended their period of mourning.
One evening while I was lighting the fire beneath the bathhouse I saw
the sky filled with shooting stars. There were more than I could
count, coming from all parts of the sky. I summoned Yuki and Sawako
and the three of us stood out in the clear and bitter cold night to
watch. Sawako returned to the house for the sake and we drank to ward
off the cold.
When the women entered the bath I remained outside listening to the
muted sounds of their voices, imagining their smooth bodies entering
the steaming water. My desire for them, suppressed since Junichiro's
death, resurfaced again. As before, I was absolutely torn between the
daughter and her mother.
After finishing my bath I returned to find the house dark. I sat by
the dying embers of the fire drinking more sake and thinking about the
two women lying in their beds, separated from me only by thin
ricepaper walls. A feeling of supreme satisfaction came over me. I
was alone with them, far from any rivals. I could have whichever I
wanted. All I needed to do was choose. But whichever I chose would
forever exclude me from having the other. It wasn't something to be
rushed into. Suddenly I felt weary. No need to choose tonight, I
thought.
In the deepest part of the night I dreamed of icy mountain peaks.
Wind rushed over them with a hissing sound. I came half-awake, aware
that the sound was actually the door to my room softly sliding open.
For an instant I made out a woman's silhouette in the moonlit hallway
before the door closed behind her. I heard the rustle of a kimono and
then a warm body slipped under the covers beside me.
"Sawako." I whispered.
She spread her body over mine. Her breasts dragged across my chest,
soft and warm, each with a blunt-tipped nipple at its center. When we
kissed, her lips burned like hot steam. Full firm thighs pressed me
down. I could feel the heat from her sex against my leg. When she
slid herself onto me, I felt muffled, completely engulfed by her. Her
legs, her thighs, her loins, her breasts and hair were all draped over
me. Sawako made love slowly, drawing out the sweetness of the moment.
After she shuddered and grasped me tightly I reversed our positions
and sought my own more vigorous release inside of her. When my seed
sprang from me Sawako let out a deep sigh and entwined her limbs more
tightly about me. She slept beside me until just before dawn when I
heard the door slide open again and she slipped away.
In the morning Sawako made no sign at all to acknowledge what had
happened between us. I tried to catch her eye over the head of her
daughter but she would not look at me. That day I spent by the lake
fishing in the manner her former husband had taught me. After supper
I was surprised to see her retire to her room for the night earlier
than usual. I had hoped she would linger after her daughter had gone
to bed so that we might repeat what we had done the night before.
Instead, she instructed Yuki to take up my lessons where we had left
off and then quietly slipped away to her room.
Without her mother present, Yuki became even shier than before. Now
that my choice had been made, I wondered if she could sense what had
happened, using some secret female sense, a connection between mother
and daughter I was unaware of. She knelt beside me, but only close
enough so that the edge of her kimono brushed softly against my arm
when she reached across to point out the characters. I did my best to
put her at ease, telling little stories to make her laugh, but I
noticed her hand trembling when she turned the pages of the book.
That night I lay awake for a long time, perplexed by Sawako's
reaction. I reasoned that she must have felt remorse for what she had
done out of loyalty to the memory of her husband. Perhaps she felt
shame in the presence of her daughter. I promised myself to find a
moment alone with her the next day to ascertain her feelings.
Again in the deepest part of the night I dreamed of icy mountain
peaks. Now an avalanche roared towards my, hissing like a giant snake
as white snow enveloped me, blotting out everything as it overwhelmed
me. I came awake again to hear the soft hiss of my door sliding open.
There was the same rustle of a kimono sliding over a female body and
then a cool lithe figure slipped in beside me.
"Yuki," I whispered.
My surprise was so great I did not move towards her at first. I could
feel her trembling beside me, drawing rapid shallow breaths. My mind
raced but could gain no foothold on any thoughts that made sense.
What if Sawako came upon us? The walls of the house were so thin she
need not even leave her room to know what was happening.
Yuki sensed my indecision, or perhaps her virginal eagerness overcame
her fear. Her cool hand slipped over my chest and stomach, searching
for the thing she wanted most from me. Finding it, she gingerly
explored the contours and textures novel to her. I reached for her in
turn and touched her soft breasts and the smooth skin on her thighs.
When I took her she was eager and shaking. Her delicate virginal
flesh yielded to me gently, parting before the blunt force of my
desire. She clung to me with all her limbs, as if now that she had
me, she would never let me go.
I moved in her with an easy rhythm, intending to prolong the moment as
long as I could. Finally, I was unable to stand my own delicacy and I
gave her a taste of my strength. She answered back with her own
feminine ardor and we were carried away. I felt her shudder beneath
me as my seed burst thickly within her. Her sex seemed to recoil then
grasp about me more tightly, drawing out more of the precious nectar.
Like Sawako, Yuki remained beside me until almost dawn. Hungrier than
her mother, she woke me with caresses and we repeated the act of love
once more before she slipped quietly out of my room.
The next day I was extremely wary around the two of them. I was
afraid of what would happen if either one discovered I had lain with
the other, but nothing came of it. The two women acted as they always
did. The routine began that way and continued for so many days that I
lost track of time. One night Sawako visited me, and the next, her
daughter Yuki.
During the days I lived in constant fear of discovery. Each night
brought a new level of bliss. Finally, with Sawako sleeping soundly
beside me, I heard the unmistakable hiss of the door sliding open.
When Yuki slipped into bed beside me without a word from her mother I
came to the shocking realization that they both had known all along.
Their alternating visits were too well ordered to have been
accidental. I was too blinded by my own self-satisfaction to have
seen it.
Ling between mother and daughter I waited for the realization of my
fondest wish with a strange mixture of dread and desire. Having just
spent myself in Sawako, I feared I might not have the strength to
manage the girl. But the two of them worked together. With hands and
mouths, they coaxed my potency back. And then I lay upon the
daughter, feeling the hands of her mother caressing me all the while.
When the seed burst from me, it was into Sawako's glittering eyes that
I looked.
Somehow, the women provoked me into a third performance and I
alternated between them as mother showed daughter the various methods
and positions for coupling. Sawako took me in her mouth to bring
about my last painful discharge, and she pushed her daughter's head
down so that the girl might taste what I offered them.
I would lie if I did not say the next months were bliss. We moved
from the tiny room in which I slept as a guest to the large bedroom
Sawako had shared with Junichiro. While winter winds and storms
buffeted the house we paid little attention, enthralled by our nightly
trysts.
One day while gathering fish from the lines I had put out the previous
day I checked the ice to see if it had grown any thinner, a sign
winter was coming to an end. And I began to count the days, secretly
notching the trunk of a great evergreen tree as I passed each day.
When three months passed, I was mildly surprised to find the ice on
the lake as thick as before. Winter had not begun to release the
strength of her grip. But I gave it little thought. We were high in
the mountains where winter lingers, and I had the nightly bliss of two
women to look forward to. I was not in any great rush to see spring
arrive along with prying eyes from the villages below.
When six months had gone by I trudged through freshly fallen snow. I
calculated that it had to be midsummer by now, and still winter showed
no sign of ending. In horror, I realized then that for me winter
would never end. I remembered Junichiro's warning. In madness, I ran
from that place, heading in the direction of the mountain road. But
soon I lost my way in the white, featureless landscape. I ran until
my strength gave out, and then I walked. Night fell, and I continued
walking until I a light twinkled through the trees ahead. I surged
forward with elation only to discover I had doubled back on myself
somehow. The light came from the very house I left that morning.
I decided to say nothing to the women, telling them instead that I
fallen in the snow and become dazed. The next day I set out again,
only to find myself back at the house again by nightfall. The third
time I vowed not to come back, and I stayed out all night in the
bitter cold, watching smoke rise from the chimney and the lamps go out
one by one.
***
Years have gone by and I live in a way that seems outwardly contented.
I lost count of the times I tried to run away only to find myself back
home again. No matter how hard I tried, crouching in the snow, eating
raw fish or the bark from the trees, promising myself never to return
to that house, I could never stay away for long. Inside, there was
food and warmth, the warmth of my bed, and inside of that the warmth
of Yuki and Sawako, and within them an even greater warmth I could not
live without.
They never age. The mother is always twice the age of her young
daughter although I have grown to be an old man, older now than the
long-dead Junichiro was when I first arrived. You might wonder how
such a man keeps a beautiful young wife and daughter alone in the
mountains. When you see me you must find the courage to ask, no
matter how impolite the question may seem. For when it snows, the
women send me out to the road with my lantern to wait for a passing
traveler.
Fin
Richard Rivers
12/99