User Posts

1st picture: We are in trouble. We need to take that down.
2nd picture: We will be in greater trouble. We also need to take that down!

That said Associate, you've mentioned that you will be leaving the forums. By when may I ask?

My curiosity is piqued. How were you amazed?



I am glad you've enjoyed it. Of course this is the best parody. It is a parody of your entry!

Associate, I will say again that I am extremely impressed with your entry. I am fascinated with scenes that I have never seen before in my part of the world. I am fascinated with how the man in the street would react to a funeral. I really wish more people could appreciate those things. Why indulge myself in fantasy when you have a re-imagining of a very real ceremony? I read your entry, then read mine. Ideas were generated, many of them leonard267-ish as expected from leonard267. The result was this parody:

When one's time is up and he departs from the mortal plane, he leaves behind a lump of cells that would foul the air if not properly disposed. One would expect a sane man to dump that person's body into a pit just like what our ancestors would do to their excreta in the days without proper sanitation.

However, if one develops what one calls feelings, emotions or attachment to a person who has recently kicked the bucket so symptomatic between people of blood relations, chances are they will spend a bomb on needlessly extravagant ceremonies, the best crafted of useless coffins and so on. One wonders if they regret the treasure they have spent once they lower that decomposing corpse into a pit or see it incinerated.

This story though centres on one scene of that orchestrated madness called a funeral, namely the part when persons supposedly close to the person to the coffin create long and near inaudible vibrations from the larynx called long and boring speeches in layman language. This story centres around two characters. Let us call them HumbugsAssociate and leonard267 for laughs.

It was not clear why HumbugsAssociate and leonard267 were at the funeral, neither was it clear how they were related to the person in the coffin. What was certain though was that they were onlookers. They were interested in dead people, preferably those who succumbed to the ravages of time and ceremonies ranging from the conventional like conventional funerals to the unconventional like unconventional funerals.

At first, the speeches appeared to be a novelty, especially to leonard267. Perhaps it was a competition to see who could jerk the most tears out of the tear ducts of the audience. Perhaps it was a competition to see who knew the dead man the best. Perhaps it was a competition for competition’s sake. As far as both men can see however, if there were really a competition, all of the speeches would tie for last place in whatever category they are competing for, save the most boring.

So boring and repetitive the speeches were, HumbugsAssociate made a checklist to entertain himself:

1, Must contain references to person in coffin.
2. Must contain more references to self.
3. Must contain as little complimentary references to persons other than the person in the coffin and self.
4. Must contain as many derogatory references to persons other than the person in the coffin and self.
5. Must contain euphemisms so that 1 to 4 won’t be made obvious
6. Must be delivered in the most monotone and boring voice so that the audience wouldn’t care about 1-5

Leonard267 on the other hand began a slow descent into madness with each passing second. He flipped through the dictionary which was meant to be passed off as Holy Scripture. While the religious generally agree that the Scriptures contain prophecies and premonitions about the eschatological future where the entire world will be plunged into disasters ranging from global warming to more global warming, leonard267 was having his own premonitions.

It could be the (black) magic of the ceremony. It could be the cold weather. It could be that leonard267 was high on mind altering substances. It could even be the spirit of the man in the coffin. Whatever the reason was, leonard267 was hallucinating. As he flipped furiously through the dictionary to find the entry for the word †˜cold’, he thought that he is in a writing competition of sorts. To make it even more queer, he thought that the competition was judged by a gas (a noble one, one must add), a late former US President and a sentient city of Biblical myth that could talk and had less than soundproof walls. To make it even more confusing for the reader, he also decided rather suddenly that the dictionary entry he set his eyes on was indicative of the future.

Barring the fact that his thoughts turned to him possibly becoming a female Prime Minster despite the fact that he is male, (his crazed thoughts are laid out in detail in this link: https://www.fakku.net/forums/writing-and-fanfiction/winter-contest-entry-2013-an-analysis) he suddenly hollered,

“LOOK AT THE COFFIN!”

True enough, the coffin appeared to be shaking. Whilst everyone attending that funeral was taken aback, HumbugsAssociate strode forward and opened the coffin after exerting quite a lot of effort to do so. It turned out that in the coffin were an ancient couple who were undressed and what were they doing in there was described by leonard267 as thus:

Despite their bodies having lost their freshness and vividness so to speak, they decided to engage in that intimate moment which ought to be shared between happy, married couples. In a coffin no less!

To the onlooker, their romp would be far off the mark so to speak. It would be marked by poor or unlucky performance so to speak, due to the loss of their rigour of youth over the years. Had they been doing it with someone else, he or she or not-quite-he-or-she or it would lament that they were not not prepared or suitably warmed up so to speak.

They were nonetheless happy, even though they risk sending themselves to the gates of Hades by doing it at such an advanced age Even though they risk sending themselves to the gates of Hades by doing it in a funeral in the honour of one of them.

One member of the audience, supposedly the wife of the dead man in the coffin shrieked,

"Stop ****ing him in the coffin you wench! We all know you slept with him now!"

The woman who was doing it with him was some mistress. Who knew that man in the coffin had tastes for old women?

It turns out that someone did a lousy autopsy and ought to be in the coffin instead. So traumatised by the chain of events and even more disgusted with leonard267, who was foaming in the mouth by then, that HumbugsAssociate decided not to speak with anyone in that audience again.

Moral of the story:

DO A PROPER AUTOPSY, DAMMIT! THAT WAS BLOODY AWFUL; SEEING THEM DO THAT IS BLOODY AWFUL! MY EYES!

Associate, I will say again that I am extremely impressed with your entry. I am fascinated with scenes that I have never seen before in my part of the world. I am fascinated with how the man in the street would react to a funeral. I really wish more people could appreciate those things. Why indulge myself in fantasy when you have a re-imagining of a very real ceremony? I read your entry, then read mine. Ideas were generated, many of them leonard267-ish as expected from leonard267. The result was this parody:

When one's time is up and he departs from the mortal plane, he leaves behind a lump of cells that would foul the air if not properly disposed. One would expect a sane man to dump that person's body into a pit just like what our ancestors would do to their excreta in the days without proper sanitation.

However, if one develops what one calls feelings, emotions or attachment to a person who has recently kicked the bucket so symptomatic between people of blood relations, chances are they will spend a bomb on needlessly extravagant ceremonies, the best crafted of useless coffins and so on. One wonders if they regret the treasure they have spent once they lower that decomposing corpse into a pit or see it incinerated.

This story though centres on one scene of that orchestrated madness called a funeral, namely the part when persons supposedly close to the person to the coffin create long and near inaudible vibrations from the larynx called long and boring speeches in layman language. This story centres around two characters. Let us call them HumbugsAssociate and leonard267 for laughs.

It was not clear why HumbugsAssociate and leonard267 were at the funeral, neither was it clear how they were related to the person in the coffin. What was certain though was that they were onlookers. They were interested in dead people, preferably those who succumbed to the ravages of time and ceremonies ranging from the conventional like conventional funerals to the unconventional like unconventional funerals.

At first, the speeches appeared to be a novelty, especially to leonard267. Perhaps it was a competition to see who could jerk the most tears out of the tear ducts of the audience. Perhaps it was a competition to see who knew the dead man the best. Perhaps it was a competition for competition’s sake. As far as both men can see however, if there were really a competition, all of the speeches would tie for last place in whatever category they are competing for, save the most boring.

So boring and repetitive the speeches were, HumbugsAssociate made a checklist to entertain himself:

1, Must contain references to person in coffin.
2. Must contain more references to self.
3. Must contain as little complimentary references to persons other than the person in the coffin and self.
4. Must contain as many derogatory references to persons other than the person in the coffin and self.
5. Must contain euphemisms so that 1 to 4 won’t be made obvious
6. Must be delivered in the most monotone and boring voice so that the audience wouldn’t care about 1-5

Leonard267 on the other hand began a slow descent into madness with each passing second. He flipped through the dictionary which was meant to be passed off as Holy Scripture. While the religious generally agree that the Scriptures contain prophecies and premonitions about the eschatological future where the entire world will be plunged into disasters ranging from global warming to more global warming, leonard267 was having his own premonitions.

It could be the (black) magic of the ceremony. It could be the cold weather. It could be that leonard267 was high on mind altering substances. It could even be the spirit of the man in the coffin. Whatever the reason was, leonard267 was hallucinating. As he flipped furiously through the dictionary to find the entry for the word †˜cold’, he thought that he is in a writing competition of sorts. To make it even more queer, he thought that the competition was judged by a gas (a noble one, one must add), a late former US President and a sentient city of Biblical myth that could talk and had less than soundproof walls. To make it even more confusing for the reader, he also decided rather suddenly that the dictionary entry he set his eyes on was indicative of the future.

Barring the fact that his thoughts turned to him possibly becoming a female Prime Minster despite the fact that he is male, (his crazed thoughts are laid out in detail in this link: https://www.fakku.net/forums/writing-and-fanfiction/winter-contest-entry-2013-an-analysis) he suddenly hollered,

“LOOK AT THE COFFIN!”

True enough, the coffin appeared to be shaking. Whilst everyone attending that funeral was taken aback, HumbugsAssociate strode forward and opened the coffin after exerting quite a lot of effort to do so. It turned out that in the coffin were an ancient couple who were undressed and what were they doing in there was described by leonard267 as thus:

Despite their bodies having lost their freshness and vividness so to speak, they decided to engage in that intimate moment which ought to be shared between happy, married couples. In a coffin no less!

To the onlooker, their romp would be far off the mark so to speak. It would be marked by poor or unlucky performance so to speak, due to the loss of their rigour of youth over the years. Had they been doing it with someone else, he or she or not-quite-he-or-she or it would lament that they were not not prepared or suitably warmed up so to speak.

They were nonetheless happy, even though they risk sending themselves to the gates of Hades by doing it at such an advanced age Even though they risk sending themselves to the gates of Hades by doing it in a funeral in the honour of one of them.

One member of the audience, supposedly the wife of the supposedly dead man in the coffin shrieked,

"Stop ****ing him in the coffin you wench! We all know you slept with him now!"

The woman who was doing it with him was some mistress. Who knew that man in the coffin had tastes for old women?

It turns out that someone did a lousy autopsy and ought to be in the coffin instead. So traumatised by the chain of events and even more disgusted with leonard267, who was foaming in the mouth by then, that HumbugsAssociate decided not to speak with anyone in that audience again, his eyes rolled upwards in denial of this reality.

Moral of the story:

DO A PROPER AUTOPSY, DAMMIT! THAT WAS BLOODY AWFUL; SEEING THEM DO THAT IS BLOODY AWFUL! MY EYES!

You are missing out. I will do a summary and my views on Norwegian Wood soon enough. The translation is good but I hate the story for what it is, just as I dislike Tarou in the story. Not to say it was badly written.

I would like that kind of Gandhi. Is doing a dominaton victory for Gandhi advisable though?

Should tell me what zombie othellos are.

Rarely here. I am geninuely surprised that he came to this section.

((I will make a few silly remarks here.))

All this while, Gene was trying to make himself scarce. He felt extremely uneasy, fidgeting every second or so before finally wrapping his face with some rag he had found whilst searching the tunnels in a rather comedic manner.

There appeared to be some form of maintenance in those tunnels with the ever occasional (and odd) torch lining those tunnels. These must be put in place by the ghouls who resided in those tunnels.

The rest of the team, with the possible exception of Vic, was moving furtively as well. They were more strung up when they heard footsteps echoing down the hallway. Even more still when Vic spoke rather loudly. It was only a matter of time before they were found out.

What could they do? Hope that Michael Alexander, acquainted with both Gene and Daniel, was among one of the ghouls? Pretend to be Daniel's wife or daughter? Pretend to be a woman? Ghouls tend to be easier on "Smooth-skin" women, after all.

(PER check failed) To make matters worse, yellow armour clad figures whom Gene recognised immediately as ghouls who roam the tunnels spotted Gene who looked silly with his head wrapped up.

I don't think they are prizes for getting all of them though. I enjoyed Black 2 and White 2 more than X and Y, most likely due to the story.

Haven't got round playing the Pokemon Safari.

Will post my friend code: 0834-1487-6458

Don't worry Xenon. I know how it feels like intending to write something light hearted only to find myself depressed after finishing the story. Poor, poor Sanae...

I thought you did well though. Don't worry, the objective of this contest is to read what everyone writes and make remarks. Not to mention writing too. Not satisfied with just one entry, I did 3 more based on other entries.

That said, have you read my entry?

Rest well.

Makes sense. I won a domination victory playing duel. A few hundred points but they ranked me as Augustus Caesar.

What is the highest difficulty you have played so far?

I wonder if you could say the same for my parody of it which is drier and darker.

Dawn of Dark's entry was one of the entries that I understood roughly what was going on. This is another way of saying that I liked it. I just wish some more things can be made clearer like what happened in the end and like d pointed out who is Tsunora?

Dawn of Dark, your entry is heavily influenced by Japanese cartoons. Indeed, your entry called for readers to imagine the characters and scenery that are portrayed in these cartoons. For me, it succeeded in doing so and I do really hope that you'd be happy with what I thought about as my mind turned to those cartoons. This following parody will express these thoughts in head somewhat:

Japan, as any patriotic person ought to know, was mired in war between quarrelsome tribes or cliques as they like to call themselves midway in the second millennium of the Common Era. We all know that the aftermath of these wars resulted in a unified Japan ruled by Generalissimos, (known in our tongue and worldwide as Shoguns) the Generalissimos deciding to bring their wars to the rest of East Asia, the birth of a nation of war fanatics and quite a lot of bad blood.

Never mind all of that, point of the story is, young man, is that the town you are in was a centre of a major conflict between some feudal lord and some other feudal lord. One of them won, the other lost.

To bury the hatchet, the defeated offered his daughter to be wedded to the victor. All seemed well in this marriage of convenience until a snowstorm struck the convoy that was transporting the would-be bride. That woman escaped into a wood filled with allergic reaction inducing cherry blossom tree pollen.

Finger pointing and quarreling ensued. That quickly escalated to arson, murder, head-chopping and all-out war. The defeated feudal lord lost once more and his estates, his posterity and his family were wiped out because no one forgives people who loses a second time.

Strange thing though, after these events, the town hardly sees any snow. While some say it was the doing of the bride that vanished in the allergic reaction inducing wood, I say it is global warming!

These were the words of a drunk and self-proclaimed academic who called himself leonard267. Whatever he was however, he definitely wasn’t Japanese. Yara, a high school graduate who was a newcomer to that town, was a member of leonard267’s one man audience. As much as he would like to kick that drunkard’s head in, his limbs were slender, his body light, his skin looked tender and he can’t start a fight.

He wanted to know more about the history of the town, its background and origins ever since the first day he stepped there to stay with his parents after graduating from a private boarding school somewhere in the city. Unfortunately, he was duped into listening to that leonard267 character who promised him an analysis of this town’s history only to go into a stream of thought, near nonsensical and borderline xenophobic rant.

Just as Yara thought that he would be stuck listening to leonard267 whine and moan on and on, someone struck that drunk rather hard on the head, incapacitating him. Yara’s heart felt a rush of gratitude as he turned his eyes to the person who struck leonard267. She was a ravishing beauty dressed in the finest of traditional Japanese clothes, her features were well-chiselled and her personality extremely horrible. The first words she spoke to Yara, shortly before brandishing her weapon in front of him, were,

“WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT?!”

Yara’s eyes quickly turned away from her and was about to walk away when that woman shrieked,

“HEY! LOOK AT ME WHEN I AM TALKING TO YOU!”

Yara obeyed that instruction only to be verbally rebuked thus,

“WHY ARE YOU LOOKING AT ME AGAIN?!”

It was a case of getting out of the frying pan and into the fire. That woman turned out to be even more of a psychopath than leonard267. Yara started to walk away briskly but not before he heard those words from that crazy woman,

“It is not as if I want you to look at me…”

In normal circumstances, Yara would have fallen head over heels over her voice that might have felt like music to his ears but after having to deal with a drunk and her, it made him start to break into a run. No matter how fast he ran though, she had some way of catching up with him.

There was no shaking off her, there was no escape and there can be nowhere to hide. The days that followed Yara’s first encounter with her were absolutely plagued by her turning up at the most awkward of locations namely the more awkward locations in his house like toilets and the place where one’s pornography collection is stored. Many times he considered calling his parents, calling the police or calling whatever was the Aunt Agony equivalent of Japan. However, Yara never close got to doing that.

Was it because he would be laughed at if he were to make it known that he was stalked by a woman around his age (and a good looking one as well)? Was it because Yara was a masochist? Was it because of some supernatural power that made him change his mind? One can’t tell.

What was peculiar about that woman was, whenever Yara was in the company of others she would disappear. Yara did consider sleeping with his parents or mingling more with the townsfolk, yet for some reason he never got round doing that.

What Yara suffered from that young woman was verbal and psychological abuse then strange attempts to make up with him. That threw the poor young man into emotional distress, delicate he was. Topics of conversation could be about he reads, (Yara read in his spare time) it could be how he sleeps, it could be how he uses the bathroom or it could be even how he breathes. She had an interesting fashion of speaking, a fashion that Yara grew to hate:

“Why are you reading like that? It is not as if I want you to read like that!”
“Why are you sleeping like that? It is not as if I want you to sleep like that!”
“Why are you s****ing like that? It is not as if I want you to s*** like that!”
“Why are you breathing like that? It is not as if I want you to breathe like that!”


Then, around a week after they first met, Yara finally got to know her name. The following was the conversation that led to Yara knowing her name. It begun with that woman shrieking,

“Why don’t you want to know my name? It is not as if I want you to know my name!”

Yara apologised profusely even though he did no wrong. After a few more moments of that woman’s shrieking, it was then followed by what Yara found a sickly sweet and soft voice,

“If you really want to know, my name is Sanae.”

Followed by a very abrupt and ear-shattering yell,

“IT IS NOT AS IF I WANT YOU TO KNOW MY NAME IS SANAE!”


Sanae knew Yara’s name after ransacking his entire collection of books and letters addressed to him. Yet, knowing each other’s names made a bad situation even worse. Sanae apparently saw it as a license to badger Yara to reveal his intimate secrets be it the more embarrassing of his life or his deepest fears.

Ironically though, it was this innocent question that made his time in that town the most miserable and it involved a seemingly innocent question that is used to start most conversations, namely the weather. When asked rather rudely what sort of weather he liked, Yara simpered,

“I like the snow; please don’t hit me!”

By then, it was one month since Yara met Sanae and it was in mid-January. All this time, the weather was cold but calm. The following day after the conversation about the snow, Yara and his parents decided to take a walk in that wood filled with allergic reaction inducing cherry blossoms, the very same wood leonard267 spoke about a month ago. Yara welcomed it as an opportunity to spend some quality time without Sanae breathing down his neck.

Everything began well. There was a gentle breeze, the sun was shining and the birds were chirping. But so was the calm before a storm. Very suddenly (relatively speaking of course), in the course of one hour, dark clouds began to gather, what seemed like a gale begun whipping through the wood, the birds were squawking and soon after, tonnes of snow fell from the heavens in the manner of a violent blizzard.

Yara and his parents had no plausible way of leaving the wood where visibility is low and temperatures are cold. They could only huddle together to keep their bodies warm and hope that the blizzard subsides as soon as possible.

However, Yara’s parents were old and their bodies cannot handle such pressure from the elements. Hours into the blizzard and into the evening, Yara’s parents could not speak, their bodies seemingly frozen on the spot. Yara was about to succumb too when he saw a figure approaching him.

It was none other than Sanae herself. She looked very different from usual. She appeared not to be made of flesh and assumed corporeal form, quite alike a spirit. The thought then occurred to Yara that Sanae might be responsible for the weather. Could it be that she was bride of leonard267’s story that perished in this very wood?


“I thought you liked the snow!” Sanae cried.

Yara could not muster the energy to speak and could only mouth,
“I will kill you…”

Sanae paid no attention to that and appeared to be weeping,
“It is not as if I want you to die!”

Yara mouthed the same words as before,
“I will kill you…”

Sanae screamed in a voice much louder than roaring wind around her.
“I loved you ever since I first set my eyes on you! Why can’t I marry the person I like? Why can’t the person I like marry me? I don’t want to be like this, a wandering spirit with no shape or form. I want to be like other girls and have fun!”

Notwithstanding the emotions Sanae felt, Yara felt sick to the gut and rather confused at his tormentor’s confession of love and her screams about marrying someone she did not like. He was not in a position to reply but if it could, the words will be,
“Can it stop snowing? I take it all back, I hate the snow. I don’t want us (my family and I) to be caught in a blizzard. We just want to be alive,”

And, if he could express his feelings to Sanae, he would have said,
"You are a horrible woman, leave me alone!"

Perhaps due to the blizzard or perhaps due to hearing the revelation of what Sanae
was, Yara blacked out only to find himself in a hospital when he came to.

A rescue team found Yara and his parents hours after the blizzard subsided. They were lucky though; if Yara’s neighbours hadn’t informed the authorities that they went on a trek in the woods, the entire family would have perished in that blizzard.

What about Sanae? She was the spoilt daughter of the defeated feudal lord. The latter was only too happy to marry her off to his foes. However, she disobeyed her father’s wishes to be married off and escaped to that wood of cherry blossoms. The spirits of the wood, being stick in the mud conservatives, cursed her for her act of disobedience and turned her into one of their kind. She had no shape or form assumed powers, one of which is control over the weather near that wood. Maybe through strength of will, she manifested herself before Yara, eager to relive her days as the daughter of a (somewhat) powerful family. That was the conclusion Yara came to after reading through the myths of that town without leonard267’s help of course.

Yara never saw Sanae again and he was rather relieved that it was so.

Moral of the story Author’s note of the story:

Looking forward to them. I might even be arguing with you over these entries.


Third parody is up.

Parody of Dawn of Dark's Entry --- Very Cross

Dawn of Dark, your entry is heavily influenced by Japanese cartoons. Indeed, your entry called for readers to imagine the characters and scenery that are portrayed in these cartoons. For me, it succeeded in doing so and I do really hope that you'd be happy with what I thought about as my mind turned to those cartoons. This following parody will portray these thoughts:

Japan, as any patriotic person ought to know, was mired in war between quarrelsome tribes or cliques as they like to call themselves midway in the second millennium of the Common Era. We all know that the aftermath of these wars resulted in a unified Japan ruled by Generalissimos, (known in our tongue and worldwide as Shoguns) the Generalissimos deciding to bring their wars to the rest of East Asia, the birth of a nation of war fanatics and quite a lot of bad blood.

Never mind all of that, point of the story is, young man, is that the town you are in was a centre of a major conflict between some feudal lord and some other feudal lord. One of them won, the other lost.

To bury the hatchet, the defeated offered his daughter to be wedded to the victor. All seemed well in this marriage of convenience until a snowstorm struck the convoy that was transporting the would-be bride. That woman escaped into a wood filled with allergic reaction inducing cherry blossom tree pollen.

Finger pointing and quarreling ensued. That quickly escalated to arson, murder, head-chopping and all-out war. The defeated feudal lord lost once more and his estates, his posterity and his family were wiped out because no one forgives people who loses a second time.

Strange thing though, after these events, the town hardly sees any snow. While some say it was the doing of the bride that vanished in the allergic reaction inducing wood, I say it is global warming!

These were the words of a drunk and self-proclaimed academic who called himself leonard267. Whatever he was however, he definitely wasn’t Japanese. Yara, a high school graduate who was a newcomer to that town, was a member of leonard267’s one man audience. As much as he would like to kick that drunkard’s head in, his limbs were slender, his body light, his skin looked tender and he can’t start a fight.

He wanted to know more about the history of the town, its background and origins ever since the first day he stepped there to stay with his parents after graduating from a private boarding school somewhere in the city. Unfortunately, he was duped into listening to that leonard267 character who promised him an analysis of this town’s history only to go into a stream of thought, near nonsensical and borderline xenophobic rant.

Just as Yara thought that he would be stuck listening to leonard267 whine and moan on and on, someone struck that drunk rather hard on the head, incapacitating him. Yara’s heart felt a rush of gratitude as he turned his eyes to the person who struck leonard267. She was a ravishing beauty dressed in the finest of traditional Japanese clothes, her features were well-chiselled and her personality extremely horrible. The first words she spoke to Yara, shortly before brandishing her weapon in front of him, were,

“WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT?!”

Yara’s eyes quickly turned away from her and was about to walk away when that woman shrieked,

“HEY! LOOK AT ME WHEN I AM TALKING TO YOU!”

Yara obeyed that instruction only to be verbally rebuked thus,

“WHY ARE YOU LOOKING AT ME AGAIN?!”

It was a case of getting out of the frying pan and into the fire. That woman turned out to be even more of a psychopath than leonard267. Yara started to walk away briskly but not before he heard those words from that crazy woman,

“It is not as if I want you to look at me…”

In normal circumstances, Yara would have fallen head over heels over her voice that might have felt like music to his ears but after having to deal with a drunk and her, it made him start to break into a run. No matter how fast he ran though, she had some way of catching up with him.

There was no shaking off her, there was no escape and there can be nowhere to hide. The days that followed Yara’s first encounter with her were absolutely plagued by her turning up at the most awkward of locations namely the more awkward locations in his house like toilets and the place where one’s pornography collection is stored. Many times he considered calling his parents, calling the police or calling whatever was the Aunt Agony equivalent of Japan. However, Yara never close got to doing that.

Was it because he would be laughed at if he were to make it known that he was stalked by a woman around his age (and a good looking one as well)? Was it because Yara was a masochist? Was it because of some supernatural power that made him change his mind? One can’t tell.

What was peculiar about that woman was, whenever Yara was in the company of others she would disappear. Yara did consider sleeping with his parents or mingling more with the townsfolk, yet for some reason he never got round doing that.

What Yara suffered from that young woman was verbal and psychological abuse then strange attempts to make up with him. That threw the poor young man into emotional distress, delicate he was. Topics of conversation could be about he reads, (Yara read in his spare time) it could be how he sleeps, it could be how he uses the bathroom or it could be even how he breathes. She had an interesting fashion of speaking, a fashion that Yara grew to hate:

“Why are you reading like that? It is not as if I want you to read like that!”
“Why are you sleeping like that? It is not as if I want you to sleep like that!”
“Why are you s****ing like that? It is not as if I want you to s*** like that!”
“Why are you breathing like that? It is not as if I want you to breathe like that!”


Then, around a week after they first met, Yara finally got to know her name. The following was the conversation that led to Yara knowing her name. It begun with that woman shrieking,

“Why don’t you want to know my name? It is not as if I want you to know my name!”

Yara apologised profusely even though he did no wrong. After a few more moments of that woman’s shrieking, it was then followed by what Yara found a sickly sweet and soft voice,

“If you really want to know, my name is Sanae.”

Followed by a very abrupt and ear-shattering yell,

“IT IS NOT AS IF I WANT YOU TO KNOW MY NAME IS SANAE!”


Sanae knew Yara’s name after ransacking his entire collection of books and letters addressed to him. Yet, knowing each other’s names made a bad situation even worse. Sanae apparently saw it as a license to badger Yara to reveal his intimate secrets be it the more embarrassing of his life or his deepest fears.

Ironically though, it was this innocent question that made his time in that town the most miserable and it involved a seemingly innocent question that is used to start most conversations, namely the weather. When asked rather rudely what sort of weather he liked, Yara simpered,

“I like the snow; please don’t hit me!”

By then, it was one month since Yara met Sanae and it was in mid-January. All this time, the weather was cold but calm. The following day after the conversation about the snow, Yara and his parents decided to take a walk in that wood filled with allergic reaction inducing cherry blossoms, the very same wood leonard267 spoke about a month ago. Yara welcomed it as an opportunity to spend some quality time without Sanae breathing down his neck.

Everything began well. There was a gentle breeze, the sun was shining and the birds were chirping. But so was the calm before a storm. Very suddenly (relatively speaking of course), in the course of one hour, dark clouds began to gather, what seemed like a gale begun whipping through the wood, the birds were squawking and soon after, tonnes of snow fell from the heavens in the manner of a violent blizzard.

Yara and his parents had no plausible way of leaving the wood where visibility is low and temperatures are cold. They could only huddle together to keep their bodies warm and hope that the blizzard subsides as soon as possible.

However, Yara’s parents were old and their bodies cannot handle such pressure from the elements. Hours into the blizzard and into the evening, Yara’s parents could not speak, their bodies seemingly frozen on the spot. Yara was about to succumb too when he saw a figure approaching him.

It was none other than Sanae herself. She looked very different from usual. She appeared not to be made of flesh and assumed corporeal form, quite alike a spirit. The thought then occurred to Yara that Sanae might be responsible for the weather. Could it be that she was bride of leonard267’s story that perished in this very wood?


“I thought you liked the snow!” Sanae cried.

Yara could not muster the energy to speak and could only mouth,
“I will kill you…”

Sanae paid no attention to that and appeared to be weeping,
“It is not as if I want you to die!”

Yara mouthed the same words as before,
“I will kill you…”

Sanae screamed in a voice much louder than roaring wind around her.
“I loved you ever since I first set my eyes on you! Why can’t I marry the person I like? Why can’t the person I like marry me? I don’t want to be like this, a wandering spirit with no shape or form. I want to be like other girls and have fun!”

Notwithstanding the emotions Sanae felt, Yara felt sick to the gut and rather confused at his tormentor’s confession of love and her screams about marrying someone she did not like. He was not in a position to reply but if it could, the words will be,
“Can it stop snowing? I take it all back, I hate the snow. I don’t want us (my family and I) to be caught in a blizzard. We just want to be alive,”

And, if he could express his feelings to Sanae, he would have said,
"You are a horrible woman. Leave me alone!"

Perhaps due to the blizzard or perhaps due to hearing the revelation of what Sanae
was, Yara blacked out only to find himself in a hospital when he came to.

A rescue team found Yara and his parents hours after the blizzard subsided. They were lucky though; if Yara’s neighbours hadn’t informed the authorities that they went on a trek in the woods, the entire family would have perished in that blizzard.

What about Sanae? She was the spoilt daughter of the defeated feudal lord. The latter was only too happy to marry her off to his foes. However, she disobeyed her father’s wishes to be married off and escaped to that wood of cherry blossoms. The spirits of the wood, being stick in the mud conservatives, cursed her for her act of disobedience and turned her into one of their kind. She had no shape or form assumed powers, one of which is control over the weather near that wood. Maybe through strength of will, she manifested herself before Yara, eager to relive her days as the daughter of a (somewhat) powerful family. That was the conclusion Yara came to after reading through the myths of that town without leonard267’s help of course.

Yara never saw Sanae again and he was rather relieved that it was so.

Moral of the story Author’s note of the story:

You sound like one now Fallan! I'd better send you that depressing parody of mine as soon as possible!

That's tsundere, no?