Stolen Nirvana's

‘The world is an illusion, neither passing nor coming, it is, and yet - it is not; man’s painful moralizing of Good and evil, are but excuses they give to their guilty desires and secret hopes in the great wheel of existence.

However, it is not the paths of high moralizing and pondering of good and evil that this tale seeks to tread, nay; rather, it is a tale of death, and the ultimately tragic trappings of human conscience.’ – The Author


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On the muddy footpaths - wet and boggy from the heavy autumn rain, past the crowded street bustling with sweating butchers, grinning cloth vendors, astute medicine men, and tall Taoist priests selling charms; past the brothel with it’s doe-eyed young prostitutes trying to entice the wandering drunks, and past the high city walls where the bodies of silent criminals hung – tongues out to the half setting sun; Yip Gu Ming – an elderly rice merchant of the city, undid his tightly tied trousers and squatted on a dirty wooden toilet seat to relieve himself from fullness.

But, little would Mr. Yip have anticipated that his fullness would relieve him of his head too! For at that moment, the door to the shabby and smelly little outhouse was thrown violently open, and a butcher knife – glinting with the rays of the setting sun – fell downwards towards him in a celestial arc and embedded itself halfway into his neck. Seemingly not content or satisfied; the now dull crimson blade withdrew from the old man’s neck and cut down again, severing the merchant’s head completely from his spasming old body.

The head, with its grotesquely grimacing face, and emptily accusing stare fell haphazardly to the muddy floor of the toilet with a dull and lifeless thud. The murderer, seeing that his aim was now accomplished, calmly wiped the blood of the blade onto the merchant’s clothes (noting to his bizarre amusement, that the merchant had vacated his bowels during the deed) and after closing the door gently, hurried off at a steady pace towards the riverside pavilions where, the murderer decided he would go to get drunk.

A tremendous uproar went through the city that day when news spread that a murderer was amongst them. But no more constables or guards went into the city to investigate - indeed it seemed on the surface, that acts of killing were of no great concern to the officials – but, deep down, more than a few people slept uneasily in their beds when night fell.

Weeks passed, and the murder of old Yip passed quietly until it was all but forgotten, for the constables had no leads, or anyone who could have stood as a witness to the crime. Also, more recent criminal cases required their immediate attention – thus accelerating the burial of the case.

But the murderer himself was not buried. In fact, the handsome young man staggered to and fro drunkenly on the street, kicking up huge clumps of mud that disturbed a vagrant taking shelter under the archway of a temple. ‘Hey, you drunken fool – if you want to throw up then go do it somewhere else, I’m trying to sleep here!’

But the drunken man paid no attention, he merely glanced at the vagrant from under his bloodshot eyes irritably, and with a fair degree of anger thought to himself ‘What is this vagrant who sleeps without roof to tell me what to do? Can he even look his parents in the face when the day comes like I will be able to do?’

After walking a few more steps, a familiar nauseous feeling came upon him – stronger than he seemed to have felt before. So without further resistance, he braced his arm up against a nearby wall, and spilled the contents of his stomach into a wooden bucket – breaking apart his dark reflection with an unrepentant stream of bile.

At last his stomach had nothing more to give, so exhausted, he collapsed on his side and greeted the filthy street face to face. The man did not even notice in his haze, the door opening quickly and a tall skeletal figure dragging him into a sparsely furnished house.

‘So you’re awake now brother Ying’ a sweet, and melodious voice gently asked as a damp cloth was placed on his head.

Ying, slowly drawn to consciousness by the cool dabbing of his head with a cloth and the tempestuous throbbing of his head brought on by the effects of alcohol, suddenly realized he was in the house of Yin – a woman of great disfigurement and notoriety amongst the cities poorer parts.

‘Leave me’ he said sternly as he struggled to get up off the small bed. ‘I have no need for you tonight.’

Surprised at being treated so, she stepped back to allow the man to get off the bed. But her trembling lip belied her calm, and already her eyes were filling up with tears.

The man called Ying stood up, and as if seized by some sudden thought, looked at her, and beyond her. He looked at her black veil which she covered her mouth with at nearly all times, for she was burnt, and scarred horribly by some event in her past; and at her deformed feet, bound up with many a layer of bandages. He guessed it caused her great pains to walk, but she had for as long as he had known her, never complained of her disability, not even a sound – but bore it with a silent grace and determination that would have impressed even the great Mencius himself.

‘The fool’s’ the man thought, ‘filial piety, respecting of elders, worship of ancestors, righteousness to state – pah! These are but a rich and foolish man’s ideals. I believe not in their ways. Not anymore.’

‘I have something to tell you Yin.’ He said at least to her. Pleased at having the silence broken, Yin looked up at the handsome man with reserved inquisitiveness in her eyes. ‘Yes?’ she replied.

Ying opened his mouth, but a course and stuttering question call out ‘A-Amongst the current heroes of the world, whom do you hold in the highest regard?’ he stammered.

‘You know who, there is no other hero than the great Gwok Jing [note: my history is not so good, so I’ve used the most upright fictional hero I know], pious defender of the northern planes.’

Ying’s face instantly sheeted white, beads of perspiration poured down from his temples. ‘Yes, and suppose the hero Gwok Jing’s whole family was murdered, do you think that he would go to seek vengeance?’

Yin, wrung her hands subconsciously and paced slowly around the room. ‘Yes he would, the vengeance for family is a righteous and honourable thing’

‘Bullshit!’ shouted Ying at the top of his voice, and in a fury brought his fist crashing down upon the table, so that the cups and candle on it shook and trembled – casting the room in a distortion of harsh black shadows. Yin herself was evidently shaken, for she had stopped pacing and looked at Ying with the look of a child who had done wrong.

‘Have you killed?’ he continued, ‘Then be not so quick to judge whether killing, no matter how justified is ever honourable or righteous. Let me tell you now from the position of someone who has killed, that to take a life is no easy task.’

‘You have killed?’ she replied in surprise, ‘but whom and why?’

‘You know who’ he sighed quietly.

A harsh silence descended the room, into each others eyes they stared, then, Ying nodded slowly in unspoken acknowledgement.

A sudden gloom swept over Yin, and she felt her head giddily light – as if the whole room was spinning continuously. It was a moment before she could gain something of composure, and sitting down – she wept bitterly.

‘Yes, you know I killed your benefactor. I killed him down in the outhouse, with a butcher knife.’

‘But why?’ she enquired again in between sobs. The room itself, was still except for the noise of the crying woman; outside, the night patrolman chimed his gong and announced that it was an hour before midnight.

Ying, sat back on the bed and spoke with effort. ‘Did you know, that when my father came to him to collect a debt last year, he used his influence with the courts to have him imprisoned and killed on grounds of treason?’ he tried to laugh, ‘on what grounds of treason you may ask? Well, he was accused of collecting money to fund the Mongolians in their war effort. Can you imagine that! My father who gave every ounce of his being into establishing a united defence line against those barbarians! Is… in fact a traitor?

‘But he was my benefactor, who saved me from a lifetime of disgrace in the brothel, he treated me well, not a bad word could I say against him.’ Yin protested, and as she said this, she held onto Ying’s arm. ‘You beast! Murderer! Why, why did you have to tell me?’

‘For two reasons Miss. Yin’ he replied calmly, in choking voice, ‘firstly, to avenge my father, and secondly – to release you from the bondage of this old man’s slavery. For can you not see that this man does not have the purest of intentions towards you, but is treacherous from the very start? That he craves and leers at you thinking the most impure of thoughts?’

He paused at this point, and looked into the crying girl’s eyes. If some resolve was left in him, or some plan he had planned was still to play it – it vanished there, for in the girl’s eyes, he could see no hint of forgiveness, and seeing that – he despaired at last.

‘You are aware that I killed him - hewed his head crudely with savage strokes so that it fell into the base ground like he deserved. Yes, Yin, I have killed.’

‘I know’ she replied, the flame of silent resolve beginning to burn brightly in her eyes.

‘You know what you must do now. You must be righteous and honourable. Just like I myself, have been righteous, and honourable.’

So saying he took from under his robe, the same knife that had murdered the rice merchant and turned away from the girl, leaving his back facing her. Closing his eyes, he breathed out slowly.

‘Do what you must do.’

An eternity appeared to pass as Ying waited with his eyes closed. Thoughts of happiness came to him – one in which he was wealthy and powerful, good food was laid before him and he had by his side Yin, beautiful and unscarred – smiling with content.

But lo! The vision slowly begun to dim, distort, and take on hues he had never seen before, things of such lucidity were made known and unknown to him; a warmness trickled down his neck at the same time as this vision, trickled until his limbs we dull and lifeless, until everything he knew was no more, until, Yin saw on his face – only a smile remained.

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