my story

Mon, 11 Jun 2007 07:10:21 GMT

My name is Jia Lanpen Pog. I was born in 1885, in the year of the Monkey under the seventh moon. I was named thusly because my mother said I was the ‘beautiful fragrant orchid’ in her life. I lived in a small village outside of what is now know has Beijing. When I lived outside of the great city, it was known as Jingshi. I was raised with the knowledge that I was unique and special. My mother, and my father were careful with my education. I was taught like my brothers to read and to write as well with the traditional female responsibilities and honors. When I was of the age of womanhood, roughly the age of 10, I was introduced to the man who changed my life. He was elderly gentleman, and a most high ranking, honorable monk of the Buddhist temple. He lived in the Forbidden City, the most beautiful temple I had never been in for I was a mere child, and female.

He was Po Ling, and he was to be my Watcher, my teacher. My mother had wrapped my few belongings that I was to take with me, and kissed my cheek. My most honorable father stood there, with my two older brothers and my younger sister, standing, proudly. My mother and my father sent me on my way with the Watcher, and I began to learn. I remember promising my mother I would not fail in anything that I was set to do. I would not bring dishonor to my most honored father’s Ancestors. As we passed my family’s private temple, I knelt, and offered a string of white jade beads, the only thing I had of value with me to my family, to bring me blessings and protection in the coming battles I was to face.

Over the next few years I was trained in Lei tai, San shou, and Kung fu, as well other secret fighting styles that have been lost over time. When I was not training, I was studying the dangerous foes that I one day had the honor of fighting. I learned the art of tracing the signs of where the undead rested, of the great monsters called demons and how to behead them. I prayed, and lived the quiet dedicated, steadfast life of a monk, even though I was female. I was small, quiet, and content in my life until the day the world tilted for me.

I was in the gardens, praying, as was my daily habit to do after meals when suddenly I felt the change. I felt stronger, this rush of energy and chi. I felt the flood of all the talents of the one who was known as The Slayer. I stood and went to my Master, and knelt and offered prayers to the Gods for the soul of the girl who had passed on, and that her afterlife would be one of a warriors.

Now I was the Slayer, the girl who would slay the great forces and protect humankind from their greed and lust for blood.

I had just reached my 15^th year. It was the last birthday I was to ever have.

Two weeks after I was in an abandoned temple, only miles from my where my family had once lived. Fires burn as panicked villagers flee in every direction, their belongings and farm
animals in tow. I can still hear the explosions just moments away. I hoped my mother and sister were safe and away from this place. I had ducked into the temple, in hopes of finding the vampire who I had been tracking for days.

Out of the shadows and flames he stepped. He was blonde and English. I could understand Him, and I fought with everything I had. I kicked the vampire back and whipped the sword’s sharp blade at his head. I was blessed for when ducked it was not quite quick enough. The blade split the skin over his left eyebrow and blood rand down his face. I was quick to kick and gain a vantage point. I take the next charge him, sword whickering through the air in a deadly blur. He managed to dodged my moves. He viciously backhanded me, shaking my stance, as he broke my tremulous grip on the sword. I began to fight hand-to-hand with beastly vampire. I work hard, knowing that each kick may be my last. I made several kicks and punches that connected the vampire’s skull. A human would have been knocked out by now, but my fight only serves to further enrage the vampire. He fought me well for a few moments, but I begin to get the upper hand once more.

I pushed him up against a support column and pin him there, my foot to his throat.
i raised my wooded stake, made of cherry wood, poised to strike the killing blow, when an explosion outside blasts part of the temple wall inward. I fell, hitting my head hard. There was two of him now, and I was shaken, and I know I am in trouble. He knocked the stake from my trembling hand. I hastily attempts to retrieve it, as the vampire seized my burned and bruised arm and wrenched it up behind my back.

I feel the teeth break my skin and I scream, gasp as the pain is overwhelming. I feel my life drain away, and I know my life is over. I was not enough of a slayer to win against the beast.

The last thing I remember of my life is staring into the eyes of my murderer. His eyes were blue like chips of the bluest jade, his hair was the color of rice paddies in the fall. my blood was on his chin. I whispered my last words “ tell my mother I’m sorry” and I died, alone, and forgotten. I know my watcher came the next day and I was buried with honor, though i failed my family.

I am now in the ghost roads. The place where those who fought the monsters stay. I have met many a slayer here on these peacefully shadowed roads, including the blonde American slayer, Buffy Summers. Though she was ripped from here, I spoke to her. We, on this ghost road, Often watch over the ones who now bare our gift, our curse. I see her with the vampires. I saw them join bodies more then once. I recognize the vampire, even after a century of death. The one who drained me as if I was nothing. She brings such dishonor to her name, to those of us who fought and died protecting the world. She is not worthy of being the Slayer.

As for the other Slayer, I many things I would like to say to her. She is disgrace to all of us. She has betrayed us, and her gifts. She is no slayer. She is no better the vampires and demons.

I am not the only slayer to feel this way about the two traitorous whores who call themselves slayers.

boxerslayer

my story