Seidmadr Tales

Light the red lanterns, for the Nian comes. Fire the rockets, for the Nian feasts on man. Each New Year, the Nian comes down from the mountains, Hungry after depleting what little winter offered. I had been raised to always fear the Nian, And that one day the Nian would kill me. But I was not afraid, I was defiant. I would kill the Nian. All of them. I was allowed to light the lantern when I was eight It was the first year I did something to cause the Nian fear. At thirteen, I was allowed to light the fuse for a rocket. It’s loud explosion would drive the Nian away. On my fifteenth new year, I was ready to hunt, With a bundle of self-made rockets, smaller,  Designed not to scare away, but to hit. I fashioned armor from scarlet cloth. But the Nian didn’t come, the Nian never came, At seventeen, I outgrew the Nian. It was a myth, a lie, a story to frighten the young. I did not light the lanterns, I did not fire rockets. My father died when I