Archives
- 01-01-2009
- Two Pauls by Warren Buckles
- Moments by Christopher Hart
- 12-01-2008
- The Waiting by Brian Alan Ellis
- Symphony #1: Roger Castleman by John Grochalski
- 11-01-2008
- A Splinter from the Devil's Mirror by Bryn Greenwood
- Between You and the Man-Sized Prophylactic with the Zipper by Tom Bradley
- Chief by Warren Buckles
- 09-01-2008
- Routine by Felipe de Oliveira
- Automatic Transmission by Warren Buckles
- 08-01-2008
- The Axiom of Choice by Jim Chaffee
- 07-01-2008
- A Pleasure Jaunt with One of the Sex Workers Who Don’t Exist in the People’s Republic of China by Tom Bradley
- Making the Switch by George Sparling
- 06-01-2008
- The War Prayer by Mark Twain
- 05-01-2008
- About the Dog by Robert Aqunio Dollesin
- 04-01-2008
- The Coup by Peter Schoenau
- 03-01-2008
- Art School by Zach Plague
- Consitutional Puppies by JR
- 02-01-2008
- Selection from The Vicious Circulation of Dr. Catastrope by Kane X. Faucher
- Party Pooper from Make Me by Eli Richardson
- Una Noche Perfecta para Sanguijuelas por Jim Chaffee (tr. Sonia Ramos Rossi)
- 01-01-2008
- A Night in Cameroon by Kelly Jameson
- Missile by Jason Jordan
- Full TEX Archive

THE STORY OF MIMI-NASHI-HŌÏCHI - Part 4
Before sundown the priest and his acolyte stripped Hōïchi: then, with their writing-brushes, they traced upon his breast and back, head and face and neck, limbs and hands and feet-- even upon the soles of his feet, and upon all parts of his body-- the text of the holy sutra called Hannya-Shin-Kyō.7 When this had been done, the priest instructed Hōïchi, saying:
"To-night, as soon as I go away, you must seat yourself on the verandah, and wait. You will be called. But, whatever may happen, do not answer, and do not move. Say nothing and sit still -- as if meditating. If you stir, or make any noise, you will be torn asunder. Do not get frightened; and do not think of calling for help -- because no help could save you. If you do exactly as I tell you, the danger will pass, and you will have nothing more to fear."
***************
After dark the priest and the acolyte went away; and Hōïchi seated himself on the verandah, according to the instructions given him. He laid his biwa on the planking beside him, and, assuming the attitude of meditation, remained quite still -- taking care not to cough, or to breathe audibly. For hours he stayed thus.

Then, from the roadway, he heard the steps coming. They passed the gate, crossed the garden, approached the verandah, stopped -- directly in front of him.
"Hōïchi!" the deep voice called. But the blind man held his breath, and sat motionless.
"Hōïchi!" grimly called the voice a second time. Then a third time –savagely:
"Hōïchi!"
Hōïchi remained as still as a stone,-- and the voice grumbled:
"No answer! -- that won't do!... Must see where the fellow is."
There was a noise of heavy feet mounting upon the verandah. The feet approached deliberately-- halted beside him. Then, for long minutes -- during which Hōïchi felt his whole body shake to the beating of his heart -- there was dead silence. At last the gruff voice muttered close to him:
"Here is the biwa; but of the biwa-player I see -- only two ears!... So that explains why he did not answer: he had no mouth to answer with -- there is nothing left of him but his ears... Now to my lord those ears I will take -- in proof that the august commands have been obeyed, so far as was possible"...
At that instant Hōïchi felt his ears gripped by fingers of iron, and torn off! Great as the pain was, he gave no cry. The heavy footfalls receded along the verandah -- descended into the garden -- passed out to the roadway -- ceased. From either side of his head, the blind man felt a thick warm trickling; but he dared not lift his hands. ...
***************
Before sunrise the priest came back. He hastened at once to the verandah in the rear, stepped and slipped upon something clammy, and uttered a cry of horror -- for he say, by the light of his lantern, that the clamminess was blood. But he perceived Hōïchi sitting there, in the attitude of meditation -- with the blood still oozing from his wounds. "My poor Hoïchi!" cried the startled priest -- "what is this?... You have been hurt? At the sound of his friend's voice, the blind man felt safe. He burst out sobbing, and tearfully told his adventure of the night.
"Poor, poor Hōïchi!" the priest exclaimed -- "all my fault! -- my very grievous fault!... Everywhere upon your body the holy texts had been written -- except upon your ears! I trusted my acolyte to do that part of the work; and it was very, very wrong of me not to have made sure that he had done it!... Well, the matter cannot now be helped -- we can only try to heal your hurts as soon as possible. Cheer up, friend! -- the danger is now well over. You will never again be troubled by those visitors."
***************
With the aid of a good doctor, Hōïchi soon recovered from his injuries. The story of his strange adventure spread far and wide, and soon made him famous. Many noble persons went to Akamagaséki to hear him recite; and large presents of money were given to him -- so that he became a wealthy man.... But from the time of his adventure, he was known only by the appellation of Mimi-nashi-Hōïchi: "Hōïchi-the-Earless."

