Makura No Sōshi
An extract from The Menagerie
I wrote this as a way to play with a poem, turning it into prose. It gradually fractures in each retelling. The initial idea was inspired by The Pillow Book of Sei Shōnagon, a book I really enjoy and absolutely recommend!
I shall be leaving this short story available here for approx. two months, after which it’ll only be available via ebook and paperback. I hope you understand.
Like the gentle rain of moonflowers
Gliding over carved dragons
You are black silk, river weave silver
But stronger
You are a Needful Thing
I am the ink drying, unknown, exotic
Read me, words are new image
I am your heroine, habit not to break
Not fake
I am a Needful Thing
This is my lullaby, my ritual before I sleep
These are my makura no sōshi1.
I watch you from here, entombed within exquisite beauty. A wooden grill, carved with delicate flowers and scrolls, hides me from the world; only a snatched glimpse of outside life available to me.
A gentle floral aroma floats from the water of the fountain, the falling water stirring the white petals in the marbled stone basin. The sun glints from the rooftops and hides behind the green and red tiles that surround me. Within my okiya I hide and watch you.
You are splendid. You are charming. This is true. Your charming smile charmed me. Your splendid eyes make me cast my black-lined lids down, the soot of my lashes lapping my alabaster cheek. I dress to please you, my best silk and finest hair comb.
Do you notice me?
I notice you.
In black silk with a silver thread design of rivers and dragons, which coil around the hem of your jacket. It hides your strength but suits your silence. I become lost in your eyes. Eyes as dark as ink that I drink then drown with your taste.
Set me free with your katana.
Despite your strength, I am sure you are needful.
I bow to you.
I will be your concubine; my samurai. I will kneel at your feet and wash away the sweat from your battles. I will mix oils and coax you back to health. Could I be your heroine? Will you ever fight for me?
You walk alone in the garden, studying statues which your fingers touch lazily. If you knew how much I longed for you to graze my skin… you would burn. But I remain confident you are a Needful Thing, and I could satisfy you.
I observe lotus flowers open and the tigers prowling the outskirts of ebbing fires. In the light of the winter moon the flames soar bright, but the rains make them smoulder and the tiger becomes more brave. Be my tiger to my smouldering flame.
Am I too obvious in my lusts and my desires?
But I am a Needful Thing.
I believe I receive your letters. Your calligraphy crawling so delicately across fragile paper. I could be your canvas, my skin marked with your ink. I could write your future; it would be aromatic, unknown. Inhale the blossoms, inhale the colour, inhale the past, present, future. My ink will dry, but only after it has serviced your needs.
My ink could write you limitless times. You can dip into me and sign your name. Leave your impression on my paper.
Read me.
Write me.
I am something that will never break. I may look delicate, I dance so slow, so seductive. I entrance and enhance. But I will not break no matter how you treat me.
You instruct in court, and I dip and sway to your every command. I follow the evocative beat and circle in raw primal entrapment. All for your entertainment. Yet it only builds more desire in me. Sometimes our eyes meet, for the briefest of seconds, and I look away.
But I can read you.
We are Needful, like the moonflower for dusk. Bathe in twilight with me. We are such Needful Things. And I watch you from here, entombed in exquisite beauty.
This is my lullaby.
My lullaby. Lull. A. Bye. Ritual before sleep / zzzzz. Moon / sun / light / dark. Power / Weakness. Love / Hate. Each entwined eternally with the other. Bait / Fate. Mine / twine / time / line / shine.
Sun glints across red and green tiles, above stone icons and flowing streams. Water / aroma / sound / scent / sent. Sent to me from high to worship like a sacred image.
I hide and watch you.
Close my eyes and touch you.
You are splendid. Charming. Airashii2. Subarashii3. I try words on my tongue. Like new sweets / конфета4 for my belly. Words of different origin that fight for space. For understanding. Do they frighten you?
Delight you?
Enlighten you?
Your charming smile charmed me.
Your splendid eyes make me cast my black-lined lids down, the soot-coloured lashes lapping my alabaster cheeks. How else to describe the dichotomy of my image.
My meek innocence.
The contrast of your power to my weakness.
You can control me, but I cannot yet control you.
One day, I will rule you / please you / tease you / maim you / tame you. I dress to indulge you, my finest silk and hair comb.
Do you notice?
I notice you. In black silk, silver dragons and a river coil around the hem of your jacket. Coil / spoil? Royal / foil / silver / magic / tragic. Dragon / Jade / Fire / Mythic. Save me. It hides your strength. It suits your silence. Suits / suits. Which do I mean? I am confused by language and try words on my paper, in my mind, on my tongue.
Onm. Yton. Gue.
Onm. Ypap. Er.
Play with your. Mi. Nd.
A new language to be understood.
I am lost in your eyes. Eyes as dark as ink that I drink but drown with your imagined taste. You taste Needful. I am sure you are Needful. Full of need. Need / feed. Creed / greed.
I watch your touch lazily brush the garden’s statues. If you knew how I longed for your fingers to grace my skin… you would burn. Burn / turn. Fire; destructive / constructive.
You are a Needful Thing, and I could satisfy you.
I observe lotus flowers open, the tigers as they prowl the outskirts of ebbing fires. In the light of the winter moon the flames burn bright, but the rains make them smoulder and the tiger becomes more brave.
Signifier / signified.
What will all this mean to you anyway?
It is pure tangent and scattered words, read before that have no meaning to anyone but me. Myself. I.
Do I care whether you understand me?
Do I even understand myself?
The only thing I know is that I want you.
Be my tiger. I am lion. Together Tigon / Liger.
Lie on / Die on / Try on.
How many ways to die?
Am I too obvious in my lusts and desires? But I am a Needful Thing and I want to learn how to be brave. How to not run from the flames. I am a paper tiger, and I do not want to be burnt.
I believe I receive your letters. I picture your script, carefully scribed thoughts as you kneel on boards. Just as I do each night as I write of my desires for you. Slide the screen and watch you. I will kneel for you.
Concubine / courtesan / geisha / whore.
So many things in so many wor(l)ds.
Which am I to you; samurai?
Your calligraphy crawls delicately across fragile paper. Hand made. Hand maid. Shamed maid. Lamed maid. Made lame. Made tame. I could be your canvas, my skin pale, accepting your ink.
I could write your future (but would anyone understand the words I wrote). Erotic. Aromatic. Unknown. My words will dry, but only after the ink stone is washed clean. My ink could write you limitless times; you can dip into me and, when you are pleased with your creation, you must sign your name. Leave your impression on my paper.
Read me.
Write me.
Right me.
Wrong me.
A pledge. A pleading wish. A hope.
A promise.
A sigh… a lie.
Broken.
I am something that cannot break.
I dance delicate, slow, seductive.
Entrance / enhance.
I will not break no matter how you treat me.
Trick or treat?
I will not break.
We are Needful, like the moonflower for dusk. Bathe in twilight with me. Paper tiger. We are such Needful Things. And I watch you from here, entombed in exquisite beauty, desperate for you to discover my lusts and match them. How to catch you as you have caught me?
This I shall think of as I close my eyes to the stars that glint beyond the carved wooden grill.
This is my Lull. A. Bye.
Lull. A. Bye. Zzzzz. Moon > Sun > Light > Dark. Power > Weakness. Love > Hate. Bait > Fate. Opposites attract. Opposites detract. Mine < twine < time < line < fine < shine. Sun, red, green, tiles, stone, icon, water. Orchid water, lotus water, exotic, erotic scent.
Water flowing over hot skin. Caressing the shapes we make. Love we fake. Breath we take. Aroma / sound / sense / scent. Worship like his image. Hide and watch you. Close my eyes and touch you. Submissive to the core of being. Hate to see you leaving. The bed hollow without you there….
Splendid. Charming. Both very. Wrap words around my tongue, taste you. In words. How to describe you? Eat you. Sweets for my swelling belly. Words fight, like you, to dominate my head. I need understanding, does my knowledge scare you? Or enlighten you?
Have you the patience to learn?
Have I the patience to teach?
Your charming smile charmed me.
You need more than charm to keep me.
I no longer lower my eyes. You are powerful, but I am no longer as weak. I cannot control you completely, but I do have a hold over you. I can lure you back with a tear, a sigh, a look, a touch. I rule you, please you / tease you / maim you / tame you.
And you keep coming back for more.
Each time, I welcome you.
Silver dragons, silver rivers, black silk. Rips and trips, tips and dips, the patterns of my past as you carve into me my future. Save me. Kill me. Kill me to save me. Your strength does both.
But I am growing stronger too.
I offer myself for crucifixion.
I understand… not everything, but something.
I am slowly creating a map of your eyes; I am not as lost as I once was. Sometimes I want to lose myself again; but you stop me. I still drink you, it keeps you happy. You make me happy by drinking me. You taste Needful, you are Needful. At times more Needful than me.
You are a creed for me to feed from, but you are greedy. Need for feed, for greed, for creed. I go crazy whenever I bleed.
I am a statue for you to caress, and I can be colder than snow-laced stone. I can burn you. I am fire, destructive when I choose, a monsoon of flame that blazes around your fever. I can satisfy you or destroy you. Be careful.
It is you who is the paper tiger, I would whip you around. Singe and envelop you with my heat. I am lion, I hunt and I kill. I wait, patient, for the mistake which will seal your fate. I watch you, stalk you, pounce. Your laziness will cost you if you stray from me.
No-one treats me with contempt.
No-one ignores me without feeling the harsh side of my tongue.
I have sharp teeth.
Careful where you place my dirty mouth.
Lie on / Die on / Try on. How many ways to die?
I want you… you must want me. Otherwise there is no deal. Only steal, feel, real, reel, keel, collapse, and burn, turn, learn, and sigh. Breathe. A pause in the onslaught. A chance to redeem yourself.
And me.
I want to dominate. I want to succumb. With you. I will kneel for you. I will be concubine / courtesan / geisha / whore. I will act anything you please. Please please me. I will please please you. Please.
Needy, greedy, voyeur, sycophant, lover, trigger, and salve. Slave. I can create the cuts and lick them better. I look so delicate, but I can maim your flesh. You stain mine with ink my porous skin drinks. Like a desert thirsty for rain. My ink could write you limitless times, you can dip into me and sign your name. Leave your impression on my paper.
Have I stepped over the line? But…
I am hollow and need filled.
I am Needful, you are Needful.
We are Needful and as hungry for the night as the moonflower for dusk. We enhance and entrance each other, we are perfect together and useless apart. We are the missing pieces of life’s jigsaw. Our union could restart creation.
Lilith / Adam.
Demon / Angel.
One and the same.
Two halves which make a whole.
Eternally entwined.
You could save me. I could destroy you. You could destroy me. I could save you. Trick or treat?
How many times can I write these words?
As long as there is ink, there will be words to be written with it.
As long as there is skin, there will be words to be written on it.
On, from, with, and without. Bathe me in ink and I will bathe you in luxurious ecstasy. No drug could push you higher. Me higher. Liar. But I am entombed and alone, and all this is a fantasy which serenades my moonlit descent to madness.
Sanity and insanity are separated by a very fine line, and the wire I walk on is so fragile and so high. It cuts my feet. To fall would be nothing new. To fall would be release.
Will you catch me? Will you dance with me? Draw on me, slice me, tip the burning wax over me and scratch patterns into my flesh. Dance my salsa with the devil and make me complete.
I ask politely, as all slaves do.
Master, this is my lullaby.
My Lull. A.
Bye.
You can find this, and other short stories, poetry, and vignettes, in The Menagerie. Or, you can get a feel for the dark vibe of the book with a listen to the playlist.
Makura No Sōshi - Japanese for ‘pillow book’, a type of diary
Airashii - Japanese for ‘charming’
Subarashii - Japanese for ‘splendid’
конфета - Russian for ‘candy’
This was gorgeous, Ariadne. Love, love, love. The double entendre around ink and paper was exquisite: "My ink could write you limitless times. You can dip into me and sign your name. Leave your impression on my paper. Read me. Write me."
Also loved the Lilith/Adam reference. There’s an interpretive tradition where ha’adam means “the human,” not a name, and is initially imagined as a single, dual-faced being later divided into two. Lilith comes from a parallel tradition as Adam’s equal—formed from the same earth. There is so much rich ground to explore with these characters, even after all this time.