Kolchak vs Rasetsu

TWO Short Fiction Pieces

Honored samurai, ruthless ronin, wayward vagabonds, shadowy ninja and helpless villagers... welcome.

The beauty of Substack is not just the fact that it allows me to reach out to a reading audience but reading AUTHORS as well. As a community, we are able to connect in a way that is very social, yet, spotlights our work for us. (Thanks, Substack.)

Last week, I connected with

Randall Hayes

, a fellow fan of the brilliant cult classic 70s show that was the precursor of The X-Files, Kolchak: The Night Stalker. We instantly bonded over our love of the episode of “Horror in the Heights,” featuring a rakshasa, “a race of usually malevolent beings prominently featured in Hindu mythology.” (Source: Wikipedia)

Through Buddhist scripture, the rakshasa were imported to Japan where they became the rasetsu — “Fearful demons and ogres who go about at night, haunt cemeteries and devour humans. In Buddhism rasetsu are also believed to act as wardens under Enmaou 閻魔王 (the Lord of Hell), punishing the damned.” (Source: JAANUS)

Long story, short (too late!), Randall and I decided to cross-promo each other as he was dropping a Kolchak fan fiction short this week, and I have a flash fiction short featuring a rasetsu.

“The Rake” is a short story originally written for the 50th anniversary Kolchak anthology by Randall. Following is my short piece, “The Path to Salvation.” Long time readers may remember it from summer last year.

The Rake

Wombo AI art

The Path to Salvation

The late autumn evening air filled the monk's lungs, but it wasn't the season that chilled his bones. The heavy-handed presence of evil he had sensed upon entering the woods surrounding this mountain village had not bothered to conceal itself from him.

"The hellspawn devoured four of the village's young people in the past two weeks, leaving their bodies to hang high in the trees. It feasted on their innards, rent the meat from their bones…"

The village elder's voice died away and his eyes grew distant as he revisited the horror. He was trapped by what he had seen; at once both horrified and fascinated by the visions. Reliving them was the only way he could comprehend their reality.

There was no doubt in the monk's mind of the demon's origin. It was a rasetsu. A devourer of human beings. A powerful demon that reveled in the kill. The flesh of humans was as sweet as any fruit to it.

The old man returned from his unspeakable vision and spoke once more to his guest the monk, a holy man called from a revered temple in the next province. "We turned to you for two reasons – you are both holy man and samurai."

"I was a samurai," corrected the monk. "I left that path when I joined the temple."

"But you will forever retain your skills. You have the strength and cunning of a warrior, and the wisdom and ways of a monk. We are doubly blessed by your decision to come."

While there was truth in the words, the grim shadow of hallowed expectation darkened the room a shade. It was not his place to argue with the village elder. Furthermore, one way or another, the village would need taking care of. He could not allow this demon rasetsu to continue to devour the flesh of innocents. Who knew what vile violations it visited upon their souls once they tried to escape its power for the safety of Heaven?

The last of the elder's words rang in his ears before he slept that evening… "We wish you to save us from this monster."

He had, of course, agreed.

The next morning the monk began rigorous rituals that included incantations, meditation, the studying of script scrolls, and collecting a tiny memento from each villager, of which there were nearly forty. The job they were asking would take every ounce of power he held in both the heavenly and earthly realms to defeat this eater of men and violator of souls.

For two nights and days he prepared himself for the single most taxing task of his career as either warrior or holy man. When it was through, he spoke once more with the village elder.

"I am ready."

"Is there anything we can do to aide you?"

The monk's face went grim with determination, "There is."

The old man was immediately attentive.

"No matter what hellish screams are heard. No matter what horrors might be imagined. No villager must leave his or her home. In fact, I insist every villager sleep early this evening."

"This is all?"

The monk's voice was deeply earnest, "This is the path to salvation for the village. If I should be disturbed at any point during my task, then you are all doomed to a hell of rasetsu tortures for eternity."

Nodding his understanding, the elder quickly rounded up the heads of each household, and relayed the instructions of the monk. They all agreed to obey without question.

That evening, as the deep night held the village in its cold embrace, the once-samurai now-monk said a final prayer before he entered the home of each village family to send them directly to Heaven by slitting their throats as they slept.

FINI

Randall, THANKS for teaming up with me on this. Let’s do it again. And let’s DEFINITELY talk about Kolchak again VERY soon.

We Never Meet Without Parting
Next issue... Review of Star Wars: Visions season 2.

Until then!
Made in DNA
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