Worldly Appetites
He leaves London in a bit of a hurry, in fear for the state of his life and that's the truth. (But not the whole truth, as they say.)
At Portsmouth the cold is nipping the back of his neck with impatient teeth. He picks a man who is the right age, neither old nor young, resilent and strong as Cedar of Lebanon. A man of welcome experience, who has dallied with Fortune and sailed the seas of the world. Sailed as far as the empires of the Orient.
With his last few coins he buys them cheap wine and a bed at a sailors' inn, and when the man has finally fallen asleep, he takes five years, no more, from Neal McCawley. Five from a full and energetic life. Nothing, he hopes, that will be missed.
Five years smell like cassia and salt, prickling his palms with phantom callouses, body-memories of rope and lash. No longer feeling the cold, a word rises to his tongue. Hand cupped around the shell of a sleeping ear, he whispers it: Jikininki.
Tastes its strange newness, sharp as snow, cautionary blade. Invisible signature over the freckled shoulders of his prey.
A pity, Neal, you were not more superstitious.
24 September 2007
'In Japanese myth, jikininki are demons, corpse-eaters, who eat dead human bodies. These demons are often the spirits of dead men or women whose greed prevented their souls from entering a more peaceful existence after death. They continue a half-life by devouring corpses.' (Encyclopedia Mythica)