I am enveloped in a thick curtain of mist; approaching darkness enclosing me in. An uncomfortable silence hangs in the distance, devoid of all sounds, broken only by the constant downpour and occasional thunder. The sun is veiled by dark, thunderous clouds, not betraying even the slightest ray of golden sunlight on the isolated ground.
The continuous rhythm is broken by the gentle thud of approaching footsteps, disturbing the rivulets of water forming on the pavement. Through my rain-clogged eyelashes, I make out the figure of a tall, slender woman, her hair whipping around wildly in the dangerous wind, protected from the continuous fall of rain by a mysterious, thin, blue layer encased around her. She approaches me, her face looking regal, an expression of utmost solemnity on her face. Registering her appearance, I bow low, a sign of respect, and we commence to walk.
We walk, a thick veil of silence in our midst, the rain peppering our faces. My heart is thudding wildly against my ribs, anxiety threatening to overwhelm me, worry clouding my face. As we cross the gardens, I catch a whiff of the seductive smell of flowers, which exacts a soothing effect on my mind, only to have the fear reawakened.
The four meter tall, pitch black gate strikes an imposing figure in the gray haze. We approach the immense front gate cautiously, our breath contained in our chests. Our glance falls upon massive bronze knockers, a grave, depressing impersonation of long, serpentine creatures, wingless and three toed, the great Japanese Dragon.
My throat suddenly seems dry and constricted with anxiety, a worry, a fear of the unknown and unseen, the unforeshadowed and unpredicted. A shadow of doubt envelopes me: Am I prepared for this? Am I doing the right thing? Ignoring my inner disquiet, I brave forward.
I shudder as I bring my hand to the spine of dragons, moving my hands to massive bronze knockers, and knock, all of my strength imposed in that one stroke. And I start reciting, my pitch loud and clear, and I myself am immensely mystified:
Danger seeks when all is lost
Hope suppressed in being
Darkness befalls, bloodcurdling cries
Wanderings revealing
Death will rise
And then we wait, the air dense with tension. We wait for the sign signifying danger or peace.
And that's when we hear it. I press my ears to the large doors to clarify, hoping against hope that it was all a nightmare. A faint gong. Another. And yet another. Three gongs. Distinct, but still there. My eyes meet hers, and our eyes widen in horror.
Calamity has indeed befallen.
