Young-hee and the Pullocho

by Mark James Russell

  “I hope the animal sisters can help us,” Young-hee said.

  “I’m not so sure,” Samjogo warned. “They are not the most popular spirits in the realms under Heaven.”

  “What’s wrong with them?” asked Young-hee, ready for the more usual bad news.

  “They are … difficult,” said Samjogo. “Very old. Very powerful, in their own way.”

  “So, are they on the side of the elder gods?”

  “No, the sisters are forbidden from taking sides. That is one of the few things all creatures here have agreed on,” said Samjogo. “Ungnyeo, the Bear, was the first woman, the source of all humans, and so she is the mother of all loss. Sanyeo, the Snake, served the Ten Lords of the Underworld, corrupting the King of Heaven’s most pious servants. And Fox …”

  “That’s Gumiho, right? The nine-tailed fox?”

  “Yes, Gumiho. She is a special kind of evil. She only wants two things: to become human and to destroy everything in creation.”

  “Wow,” said Young-hee, “that’s really psycho.”

  “Indeed.”

  “Everyone knows about the becoming human thing. But I thought Fox was more like Rabbit—playing tricks and being sneaky.”

  “No, Gumiho is the most dangerous of the sisters, but none can be trusted. Which is why I am skeptical of your plans.”

  “But I don’t know any other options.”

  “You could forget about the pullocho. Our world is a vast and splendid place. You could step off the path and make your own way, as I have done.”

  The memory of the phone call still stinging, Samjogo’s suggestion just upset Young-hee. “The pullocho is not for me, it’s to get my brother back. He’s just a little boy. And it’s my fault he got in trouble. I have to save him.”

  “Maybe he doesn’t need saving. Besides, didn’t you say you found him more annoying than anything? Perhaps he’s getting what he deserved.”

  “You should shut up,” snapped Young-hee. Guilt stung deep as she recalled things she had said and thought about Bum. Just then, she felt something warm and furry. Tiger was rubbing his cheek lightly against her, like a kitten trying to get attention.

  “So, Tiger, tell us,” said Samjogo, changing the subject, “how do you know the sisters?”

  “I’ve had … business with all three,” he said, grimacing.

  “Business?”

  “Ungnyeo, the Bear, and I competed to be the first humans.”

  “That was you?” exclaimed Young-hee.

  “That was Tiger, so yes, me. You probably have not heard of Sanyeo, the Snake, though. After she seduced the holy servant of the Heavens, causing him to lose grace and protections, it fell on me to eat him. He was tasty but, I assure you, you don’t want to upset Heavenly servants,” he looking a little guilty.

  “And Gumiho?” asked Young-hee

  “It was wicked and cruel Fox who gave me my stripes,” he grimaced at the very thought.

  “Wait, I know that story,” said Young-hee. “A fire singed black lines onto your body. But didn’t Rabbit start it?”

  “Only kind of. Rabbit is not cruel, though he is smarter than I am and always escapes me. This one time, he promised to scare swallows into my mouth, so he could run away while my eyes were shut. But as he ran, he met Fox, who convinced him to set the fire and kill me.”

  “Wow, that’s terrible.”

  “She’s done it before. Once I caught Fox—not my usual meal, but you eat anything when hungry enough. She held up these stones and told me they were bread rolls. Even I am not that dumb, but she promised that cooking would make them soft and delicious. Foolish me, I believed her. So evil Fox was heating the stones in a fire, when she said, ‘Oh, I have to go get some kimchi to go with the buns. Now, don’t you eat any of my ten rolls.’ Well, there were eleven, so I thought at last I’d outsmart Fox. I could eat one, and there would be ten left. So I swallowed a stone—and, of course, it burned my mouth and belly so badly I stayed in bed and couldn’t eat anything for a month. Fox just laughed and told all the other animals, who laughed too.”

  Tiger’s stories were grisly and horrible, but also so foolish, Samjogo tried to hide his amusement. Young-hee scowled. “How can you laugh?”

  “I think you misunderstand Tiger and our land. He acted according to his nature. It would be an affront not to laugh at his silliness.”

  “Still, it’s pretty crappy to laugh at suffering, no matter whose.”

  Eventually the sun grew heavy and more orange. Sundown was approaching. The path took them through a birch grove, so white that the trees glimmered. Young-hee noticed the birds again, perched in the birches.

  “Are those birds watching us? I think they’re the ones from that zelkovia tree, where we met Tiger.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “Because they’re all different kinds, with no two matching. I’ve never seen a flock like that.”

  His interest peaked, Samjogo looked up. “Hmm. No pigeons—terrible animals—so that is good. But you are right, they all seem different. I see a finch, a nightingale, a hootooti.”

  “A hootoo-what?”

  “A hootooti. An odisae. That bright yellow bird with the big crown of feathers.” Samjogo seemed distracted, his lips moving; Young-hee realized he was counting. “Huh, thirty birds. That is … odd.”

  “Don’t you mean thirty-one?” she countered. “Including you.”

  “Me?”

  “You are the three-legged bird of great power, as I recall.”

  “Not the same thing. But, still, very odd.”

  But before Young-hee could ask what Samjogo meant, Tiger interrupted. “That’s it,” he said, motioning ahead. Past the birch grove, on the grassy hill, stood a wall made of stone and wood, surrounding a run-down hanok house. “That’s where the animal sisters live.”

  The Tale of Frog, Rabbit, and Deer

  One day, Frog, Rabbit, and Deer decided to have a party. Each would set a table with food and drink according to his customs. But they needed to decide the tables’ order. All agreed it should go by age, with the eldest in the most prominent position; however, they didn’t know their ages.

  Deer spoke first: “Before there were any men in the land, I climbed the Sacred Sandalwood Tree and hammered all the stars onto the sky. Clearly, I am the most ancient of creatures.”

  Rabbit was unimpressed. “Ah, that was you?” he said. “For I was the one who planted the Sandalwood Tree. So clearly, I am older than you, younger brother.”

  The Frog started to cry. “Oh, I’m sorry to weep in front of you like this. But your stories reminded me of my three sons. When young, each planted a tree. I used the wood from one tree to make the hammer Deer used to nail the stars in place; from second son’s tree, I made the great plow that furrowed the tracks in the heavens for the Milky Way; and from my third son’s tree, I made the carts that carry the sun and the moon across the sky. But all three sons have passed away, and I miss them very much.”

  And as Frog finished his story, Deer and Rabbit agreed he was the eldest of the animals.

  In the evening dusk, the animal sister’s hanok was eerily silent. No smoke emerged from any chimney. Young-hee wondered what to do if no one was there.

  Ramshackle and decrepit, the hanok’s curved, tiled roof sagged and lacked many shingles, the white walls were faded and mildewed, and the stone fence surrounding the property was cracked and uneven. A sad, half-dead persimmon tree rose over one wall, before drooping—as if gathering sunlight wasn’t worth the bother. The whole estate had definitely seen better days.

  “This wreck is home to the mighty animal spirits?” asked Samjogo in disbelief.

  “It’s nicer on the inside, I am told,” said Tiger. “But impressive appearances are not the ladies’ priority.”

  “Come on. Even if it’s rundown, it’s better than being out in the open,” Young-hee urged, unable to shake the bad feeling from the ghost that spotted her that morning. Samjogo may have driven it away,
but there were always more.

  The surrounding stone walls were too high to look over and, even in decay, they looked daunting. Around a corner, they found a heavy wooden gate. It looked new and strong, with a fresh coat of varnish, and well-polished moongeori. These brass knockers, centered on each of the double doors, were shaped like the heads of growling, fierce animals. As Samjogo reached for a knocker, Young-hee thought she saw the animals bare their sharp teeth. She had been in Strange Land long enough to yell: “Samjogo, stop!” He looked at her quizzically. “The door knocker. I don’t think it’s safe to touch.”

  Just an inch beyond his fingers, Samjogo saw an open mouth, poised to take a bite. He drew back his fingers, leaving the ornament snapping at air. “Well now,” he said. “That’s just not nice.”

  “Shove off!” “Get lost!” barked the knocker.

  “And rude,” noted Young-hee.

  “You’re not wanted here,” snarled the other knocker. “Not invited. No trespassing.”

  Tiger examined the surly ornaments. “Lions—pah,” he said. “Powerful guardians, but no manners.”

  “But how do you know we are not wanted if the ladies of the house don’t know we’re here?” asked Samjogo.

  “We are the guardians of the doorway,” sniffed the right-hand brass lion. “It is our duty to protect this home and bar outsiders.”

  “I’m sure you are excellent guardians,” Young-hee flattered, “and we would never ask you to shirk your duties. But we have important business and promise we would never make trouble.”

  “Oh, you promise?” said the right-hand lion mocked. “Well, that changes everything. Go right in.”

  “Really?” ventured Young-hee.

  “Of course not,” said the other brass lion. “Beat it.”

  “Take a hike,” echoed the first lion. “Get lost.”

  I am lost, thought Young-hee. But each insult changed her insecurity to anger. “So, what do you think?” she asked Samjogo. “Maybe we can just open the door.” Seeing no handles or latches, she gave a good shove, careful to avoid the metallic mouths. But the door would not budge.

  “Hanok doors lock from the inside,” said Samjogo. “Usually a heavy wooden bitjang crossbar between two doontae supports.”

  “Nice try, loser,” sneered one ornament.

  “Should we just go over the wall?”

  “Hah!” laughed the lions.

  “No, doubtless this home is protected by magicks,” said Samjogo. “Climbing the walls will only bring trouble. I’m guessing the hanok will just appear deserted.”

  “Oh, look who’s so smart,” said the left lion.

  “You be quiet or I’ll hang a big hat on you,” snapped Young-hee.

  Suddenly, a great crashing noise rung out as the stone walls and great wooden gate rattled and shook. Tiger had thrown himself full-force into the doors. But the gate held, leaving Tiger with nothing but bruises for his efforts.

  “Careful, silly Tiger,” said Young-hee, petting her furry companion behind his head. He looked goofy as he nursed his bruised body and pride, but Young-hee appreciated his willingness to help.

  Just then Samjogo’s face lit with a pleased-with-himself smile. “Guardians!” he exclaimed. “Perhaps we were not clear. We are not asking you to let us in. We are telling you. We are on a mission … from Moonjeon.”

  “Moonjeon?” said the right lion warily.

  “The god of doorways?” said his partner.

  “None other,” crowed Samjogo. “Moonjeon sent us with orders that you let us pass.”

  “And why should we believe you?” asked the right ornament.

  “What evidence do you have?” asked the left.

  “Why, we are the evidence, noble moongeori. My friend here is Tiger. And I am Samjogo, the three-legged bird as well as a man, which makes me a type of rooster. And everyone knows that the god of doorways exists between a Tiger and a Rooster.”

  Samjogo’s words clearly impressed the two lions. “Between tiger and rooster, that is true,” offered the left guardian. “And if they are emissaries from Moonjeon, we would not want His Greatness angry at us.”

  “But if we let them pass, and Moonjeon had not sent them, the god of doorways would rip us off this gate and melt us for chopsticks.”

  As the guardians bickered, it grew ever darker. As Young-hee was thinking how little she liked standing exposed on the lonely hilltop, she heard it—the slow, sickly rattle of ghosts, rising over the hills like the dry howls of a wolf.

  “Oh no,” said Young-hee, as a deathly chill passed over her.

  Samjogo gripped his hyeopdo.

  Tiger forgot his bruises and stood guard in front of Young-hee and Samjogo. “I can smell them,” he said, “Ghosts are in the air, all around us—along with their horse-backed Queen.”

  “You are being chased by the Ghost Queen?” said the right lion.

  “Yes,” said Young-hee, as the shadows shifted, maybe closer, in the evening gloom “They’ve been after me ever since I started my journey.”

  “The Ghost Queen is no friend of our ladies,” said the left lion, suddenly commanding, “Pyeonbok, open up!”

  “Pyeon-what…?” More shadows, moving closer.

  “I wasn’t talking to you, but to the doontae—the latch guardians—behind this gate.”

  With a heavy, sliding rumble, both gates swung open, revealing a small lobby and another set of doors. Young-hee, Samjogo, and Tiger stepped inside, but not before Young-hee saw several ghosts gliding eerily toward them at frightening speed, black hair covering their pale faces, white robes fluttering.

  And then just as the doors slammed shut, something smashed against them, hard. “The ghosts?” she asked.

  “Don’t you worry about those ghouls,” said a good natured voice on the door. Not a brass lion this time, but a wooden bat, one of two that supported the thick wood latch. “Once this door is closed, nothing passes without our say-so.”

  The door thumped again, followed by the sickening sound of fingernails against the wood. Young-hee shuddered.

  “Oh, thank you so much,” said Young-hee, bowing slightly, “uh, Pyeonbok.” The two bats twittered appreciation.

  The undecorated vestibule was cramped for three people (well, two and a large tiger). What now, Young-hee wondered as an inner door clicked and groaned opened, filling the vestibule with lantern light. Holding the lamp was a thin, young woman with black hair and an expressionless face.

  “Welcome, travelers,” she said. “Few guests make it past our overly zealous guardians—but you are welcome in our home, and protected by the rules of hospitality. Tiger, it is good to see you after so long. All of you, please, enter peacefully.” Leaving the door open behind her, the lithe woman slid inside, taking the light with her.

  Young-hee looked for guidance. Visibly worried, Tiger stepped into the hanok, followed by Samjogo, looking typically bemused. Young-hee shuddered at what was scratching and banging on the outside doors, then followed her friends into the old building.

  Samjogo slowed and leaned in close to her ear. “Remember, none of these spirits are to be trusted,” he whispered. “Gumiho least of all.” Then he straightened up and walked on with seeming cheer.

  Past the second doors, Young-hee was surprised to find a brightly lit and luxurious hanok. As Tiger said, it was much nicer on the inside—larger, too. Bright paper lanterns hung from the eaves, bathing the madang courtyard in a warm, golden glow. The house formed a horseshoe in front of them, then sprawled back into a conglomeration of rooms. The house frame was warm-hued wood, the walls white plaster, and the wooden sliding doors backed with immaculate white paper. Around the interior was a wooden path, about three feet above the ground, with a series of gentle steps leading up to it. The largest, lushest persimmon tree Young-hee had ever seen sat in the center of the madang. She had seen traditional Korean hanok before, from lavishly restored museum pieces in the heart of Seoul, to ramshackle dives that survived high-rise development projects
in unfashionable neighborhoods. But never one of this size and opulence.

  Setting her lantern on the wooden path, their escort clasped her hands together modestly. She had a strangely serene look, with her black, straight hair slicked back and held by a long silver pin. She wore a traditional hanbok, covered by a long, pale red durumagi jacket with elaborate gold trim. “I hope your journey was not too arduous,” she said. “It is no small thing to be chased by the Ghost Queen and her terrible servants. But I think you will find our home safe.” She glanced briefly at Young-hee and Samjogo before turning to Tiger. “Tiger you know all the parties here. Won’t you make the introductions?”

  A soft but slightly menacing rumble accompanied Tiger’s “Of course.” Through gritted teeth (as much long fangs can grit), he said “Ms. Young-hee, Samjogo, I would like you to meet Sanyeo, one of the three ladies of this great house. Sanyeo, like all the others, is one of our realm’s oldest spirits. And Sanyeo, this is Young-hee and the Samjogo, my travel companions. I met them only recently, but they have already have shown me much kindness and generosity.” Everyone bowed, polite and a little uncomfortable.

  “Thank you for letting us in,” said Young-hee. “I’ve never seen such an amazing hanok.” Young-hee wondered why the quiet woman was so creepy, then realized—Sanyeo never blinked. I guess she does look a bit like a snake.

  “Thank you for your kind words. It is good to meet you all.” Sanyeo’s words slid smooth and seductively, and smiling her empty smile, she called “Sisters, come greet our guests.”