The River Of Sorrows

Scary Books: Strange Stories From The Lodge Of Leisures

Along the path leading to the city of All-virtues, in the obscure night,

a poor coolie, grumbling under a heavy load of salt, was trudging on as

fast as he could.



"I shall never get there before the hour of the Rat, and my wife will

say again; 'Wang The-tenth has drunk too many cups of wine.' She does

not know the weight of that stuff!"



As he was thus thinking, two men suddenly jumped from e ther side of the

road and held him by the arms.



"What do you want?" cried the poor man. "I am only an unhappy carrier,

and my load is only salt, very common salt."



"We don't want your salt, and you had better throw it down. We are sent

from the Regions below and we want you to come down with us."



"Am I dead already?" asked The-tenth. "I did not know. I must tell my

wife. Can't you come again to-morrow night?"



"Impossible to wait. You must come immediately. But I don't think you

are dead. It is only to work for a few days down below."



"This is rather strange," replied The-tenth. "With all the people who

have died since the world has been the world you still want living men?

We don't go and ask you to do our work, do we?"



While thus arguing, he felt himself suffocated by a heavy smell and lost

consciousness.



When he awoke, he was on the bank of a fairly large river. Hundreds of

men were standing in the water; some of them carried baskets; others,

with spades and different utensils, were dragging out what they could

from the bottom. Soldiers with heavy sticks struck those who stopped

even for a second.



On the bank several men were standing, and a number of others came from

time to time. A magistrate was sitting behind a big red table, turning

over the pages of a book. At last, he called "Wang The-tenth."



"Wang The-tenth!" repeated the soldiers. And they threw the poor man

down in a kneeling position in front of the magistrate, who looked on

the book and said:



"You have been an undutiful son; do you remember the day when you told

your father he was a fool?"



Then speaking to the soldiers, he said:



"To the river!"



The guards pushed the man, gave him a basket, and ordered him to help in

the cleaning of the river.



The water was red and thick; its stench was abominable; the bodies of

the workmen were all red, and The-tenth discovered it was blood. He

looked at the first basket he took to the bank; it was only putrid flesh

and broken bones.



Thus he worked day by day without stopping. When he was not going fast

enough, the guards struck him with their sticks, and their sticks were

bones. In the deep places he had to put his head into the water and felt

the filthy stuff fill his nostrils and mouth.



Among the workers he recognised many people he used to know. A great

number died and were carried away by the stream.



At last two guards called his name, helped him to the bank, and suddenly

he found himself again on the path leading to the city of All-virtues.



Now, on the night when The-tenth was taken away, his wife waited for

him. Troubled not to see him, she started as soon as the sun beamed, and

looked for him on the road. She soon found his body lying unconscious.

Trying in vain to revive him, she thought him dead, and wept bitterly.



Not being strong enough to bring home his body, she came back to town in

order to ask the help of her family. In the afternoon, clad in the white

dress of mourning, and accompanied by her four brothers, she started

again.



What was her astonishment and fear when, approaching the place where she

had found the body, she saw her husband walking towards her. He was all

covered with blood, and the stench was so strong that everybody pinched

his nose.



When he had explained what had happened, they all returned to the

village. The-tenth knelt reverently before his ancestors' tablet,

offered butter and rice, and burnt incense.



This very day he asked a Taoist priest what was the river he had worked

in. The priest explained to him it was called the River-of-sorrows. It

took its source in the outer world in every tear that was shed. The

people that killed themselves out of despair were floated down its

stream to the kingdom of shadows.



Sometimes the sorrows on earth were so great that people killed

themselves by thousands and did not shed any tears; the blood then was

too thick to wash away the decayed remains, and the river-bed had to be

cleaned lest it should overflow and drown the whole world. Living men

alone were employed in this work, for only living men can cure living

men's sorrows.