The Collector

By Kassandra Alvarado

A collector of antiquities gets more than she bargained for when she receives a gift from a former romantic rival that begins a horrific series of events.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kassandra Alvarado
• Release date: Jul 22, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301611799

Book preview

The Collector

By

Kassandra Alvarado

Published by Kassandra Alvarado at Smashwords

Copyright 2013

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The story I am about to relate to you, happened to a friend of a friend. Morris, a terribly old friend of mine from college days, thought the story might interest me as a collector of Asian supernatural tales. *M-- Okuda, *indicates an instance where the name has been changed to protect privacy; is, or was the past tense must be used, a collector of a different sort. She was a collector of fine Japanese antiquities.

I present to you now, the first portion of the story: Skype Transcript of M-- Okuda, June 5 2009

"It was in the fuyu season of last year, that I moved into a house located in the Ōta ward of southern Tokyo. I lived alone having failed to convince my aunt of elder age to leave the small town on the coast she had spent her years in. Such are the ways of old people; I wasn’t surprised at her refusal. The house was considerably larger than my needs, but I had hoped at the time to use the space to display my sizable collection.

There was the handsome set of drawers I’d purchased from an antiques dealer, this was placed in my bedroom for personal use. A folding screen of graceful cranes, emblems of a forgotten clan, in the front parlor. In the hall, a glass case held an incomplete set of red-lacquered armor reposing in sight of the front door. On the shelves of the small den and my private study, books on Nippon folklore, a few novels and several history books about the Momoyama and Edo periods were scattered around on low tables.

I wanted to be surrounded by my collection...you have felt the same, Will. You have stayed in my house, felt the quality of a museum. Yes...I suppose it were true, that not all of my friends agreed with the placement of my objects. Kakera-san complained of the painted eyes of a 19th century Noh mask following her around the downstairs guest facility. I shared in the chuckles at her expense, my friends and I were of the newer generation. Disbelievers of centuries’ worth of strange happenings in a country imbued with spiritualism.

They say, you don’t rest after a meal, because you believe you’ll change shapes into an animal form. Superstitious foolery, we say. I accepted a pair of potted bonsai trees from my aunt and a pot of white daisies from another friend. The bonsai are considered harbingers of good luck while the daises are auspicious in my culture. Cups of warm sake were poured, cartons of food opened. Many of my close colleagues from the university had come by to wish me well.

The kitchen of spacious western styling that night, was full of talk and laughter, spilling out into the formal dining room. I’d stepped out momentarily to retrieve something or other from upstairs when something moved in the shadows of the hall. A little startled, I caught my breath as a diminutive woman with a flat face and lank black hair walked around the Ii armor. It was *Kiwako-san, a woman whom shared little in common with me. We were passing acquaintances, knowing each other through contact with *Yumemakura-san of whom I was in a relationship with at the time. I was slightly uneasy for he had told me of her advances during our relationship’s infancy. I didn’t remember inviting her yet a smile came to my face in greeting. Perhaps, I had forgotten inviting her.

"Kiwako-san, how nice of you to come. I extended my hands to her; she wore a strange almost affected grin, holding a long white box out between us. For you." Kiwako-san said softly, her dull black eyes glinting with some amusement that eluded me.