Description
This is a magic realism short novel or novelette. Excerpt:
THE ONI
Perfectionist and bossy were the traits he felt more proud of being. He struggled a lot and wished to lead everyone else to fulfill his personal objectives. When he was little, his parents taught him the fair value of things based on effort, therefore he was by no means expecting anybody to make life easier for him. He only requested help when he felt like drowning, and many times when it was already late. So, he blamed those who dared help him, knowing that the responsibility of the outcome was his completely. Over the years, this behavior made being around him less pleasant than in a previous time. However, his employees from the brushes factory had limited options and kept working for him for the money, recognizing, on the other hand, his honesty, hardworking, and energetic vibes. His employees resented his denial of accepting responsibility, which he many times transferred to others, too late to change the results.
Chicaramochi Tanaka was feeling frustrated, his apparent strong-man image, avoided exposing his vulnerability and sensibility. Knowing that somehow he might be disappointing others hurt him. His company had grown little by little, allowing him to know every one of his workers, this is why all the rumors about him, saddened him.
Every morning he passed through a big park located between his home and the Factory, taking time, while surrounded by the morning mist, to listening to the sounds of morning. The birds were the most noticeable, singing to the rising sun on the horizon with the moon still visible on the sky. The buzzing bees were heard working on their daily chores for nectar and pollen. The fast flapping of just one hummingbird could be heard coming from various directions. This morning, there was a different sound. He looked around but saw nothing; the new sound had ceased. He closed his eyes again for a moment, then took his lunch bag and continued walking to his job.
He arrived saluting all employees on his way to the office. While he was focused on making calculations with his abacus, he heard the same sound that distracted him earlier. Once more, when he tried to identify the origin of the sound, he saw nothing.
“It seems that I’m imagining things,” he thought.
By the end of the working day, to reach relaxation, he winded his Victrola to listen to a Mozart musical piece. After sitting at his desk, something caught his attention… a decoration object, which didn’t belong to him and hadn’t seen before. After he touched it, what seemed to be a corrugated wooden sphere, moved by itself.
Scared, Tanaka stood up so quickly that he knocked down the chair. His heart was beating to the maximum; he stared at the spherical object and started praying to his gods. He took a deep breath, calmed down, and this time he touched the wooden sphere again, but with a sword inherited from his grandfather’s collection. The thing moved, and then, the initial fear turned into an intense curiosity. Once more, he touched it and waited. The sphere began to open… turning into something shapeless, but in the end, the shape left no place for doubts. It was a wooden scorpion, at least it seemed to be made of that material.
It stared Tanaka with fixation. When Tanaka moved to either the right or left, it seemed to be following his movements. Tanaka approached it, as he was used to playing with scorpions and tarantulas as a child, there was not an iota of fear left after seeing what it was. He even dared to extend his hand to it. Once his hand was in front of it, the scorpion stepped back a little, but it didn’t react with its sting, absolutely free of any aggressive response.
A couple of minutes later, Tanaka had the scorpion on his left palm. He realized its body was made out of bamboo.
“You are a beautiful scorpion; I had never seen anything like you. I guess you came as a stowaway in my lunch bag,” said Tanaka.
To the amazement of Tanaka, the scorpion nodded with its body.
“Hmm, what a coincidence, it looks like you understand and respond.”
A dark mist started to surround the hand holding the scorpion; it got denser and blacker, impossible to see through, it grew, and then a voice came from it.
…
(Excerpt ends here)
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