Submission (#5881) Approved

In a quaint village of Kyendi, nestled between the rolling and stepped hills and endless rice paddies, Casimiro had taken the time to visit with friends.  The occasion was the ever-renowned lantern festival.  And the kittom, already well-known for his deep curiosity and an unquenchable thirst to experience the new and uncommon, had taken to the opportunity like a fish to water.  The small village, with its cobblestone roads, fading into well trodded dirt roads, and its roofs made up of the particular semi-circle and long tubular glazed roof tiles Kyendi was well known for, held a world of wonders in Casimiro’s heart.  The only thing that was left was that touch of magic brought by the festival’s famous lanterns.  Casimiro could barely contain the eagerness to gather the ingredients to craft the perfect lantern of his own.

As the sun dripped below the horizon and painted the sky with shades of orange and pink, Casimiro followed the well-trodded paths into the nearby paddies.  His steps were guided forward by the need to peer into the little shoots that spread out of the water.  Out of the corner of his eye, he could spot his wayward shadow in the form of the pomu that had long followed his stride across landmarks new and old.  The pomu chirped a noise more akin to a bird than words, and tugged at Casimiro’s leg fur, deftly utilizing the bends of the kittom’s legs, and the strength of the fur to pull himself to the kittom’s back.  The weight was barely noticeable, with only a tingling sensation trailing from where his fur was tugged to remind him of the pomu’s presence.

“Not shy anymore?” 

The pomu’s only response was another sound, perhaps more akin to a rodent than a bird this time.  He could make out a note of annoyance in the little voice.

With the ever-reliant pomu as his guide, Casimiro set out to find inspiration for the lantern he would craft to help bring the streets of the small town to life as the miasma encroached.  To achieve this mission, the pomu and Casimiro set out to gather what items might make for a unique lantern from their very surroundings – delicate leaves of those plants that bordered the rice cultivars, twisting stems, small twigs polished pale by the water, and water-smoothed stones that had been given the chance to absorb the sunlight, the moonlight, and the monsoon rains.  With the pomu as his guide, Casimiro knew he would be able to forge a lantern that would show his appreciation for this land, he only needed the time and patience to craft it.

He set to his work with gusto—using the ingredients he had collected to shape the sides of the lantern into a geometry that, at first, appeared discordant and chaotic.  A child pasting sticks to paper.  However, with the pomu’s help, Casimiro refined the shape, casting eager glances back at the village as he worked.  The pomu, by his side, often shy, smiled wickedly back at the village, turning his curious gaze up to Casimiro.

As the evening finally fell, casting a shimmering aura of anticipation throughout the village, each elnin set out with an eager bounce to their step.  The villages adorned the streets with their own creation, yet Casimiro’s unusual lantern caught the eye, not only for its odd décor of stones and twigs, but because of its muted luminescence that seemed to create a soft, almost dreamlike sheen that cast silhouettes on the ground.  And here was the wonder of the lantern, because as odd as the creation might seem, the twigs, stones, and leaves forming a haphazard looking pile, crowding up along the lantern’s sides, when shone from within, cast a view of the village in the shadow – with the little houses nestled against the hills of the paddies, complete with all manner of small details.  The fences and gates stood out, tall, amidst the scattering of buildings with their shapes demonstrating a unique view of what the village might look like from a distance when winding through the main road.  Atop his back, his pomu companion seemed to glow himself with pride in their work.

As night grew deeper still, the lanterns appeared to cast an enchantment that enveloped the village.  With each flutter or swirl of the wind, the lanterns, suspended as they were, swayed, endowing the village with a peculiar air of an entrance to a whole new world.  As Casimiro watched, his heart swelled, feeling the collective joy of the spectacle they had crafted together—him, his friends, their pomus, the whole village.  He was glad he had come here to spend this Lantern Festival.  He was relieved beyond reason his gamble at the lantern had work, and that the shadows it cast below upon the cobbles seemed to sway as if the whole village was suspended by the gentle winds.

And right before they were rushed to bed, a great wind whispered through the village, coaxing the lanterns to bob and dance on their own, amplifying the display in such a way that Casimiro heard the nearby elnin gasp in surprised joy or sigh in content.  The spectacle was an allure of its own, with only the potential to grow in beauty as the evenings passed and more lanterns were crafted and hung across the village.  He knew this night would linger far beyond this very moment, suffusing the air with the enchantment of the upcoming months, illuminating the streets with the dedicated craft of the elnin that lived here.