Round Robin Story Debate Tournament

As Asakia ran from the village, clouds began to form. Thunder and lightening scattered the crowd, except for the laborers who had begun to build a pyre for the chieftain. The priest went to find Asakia, sitting in silent solitude. “Your lack of judgement has angered the spirits. Your father may not enter the spirit world until his body is made to ash by the pyre. His soul will be trapped in the village until the rains pass.” The priest explained to Asakia. “The rains are a good sign. It has not rained for many months here. The crops have failed. Now, the land regains fertility.” Asakia rebutted. “Soft rains replenish the soil. Violent storms wash it away, just as violence washes all that is good from our lives.” The priest worried appearance was evident. “What concerns you, priest? Is this not in our village’s best interest?” Asakia became angry. “You must right yourself with the spirits. You acted rashly, against the order of nature.” The priest was solemn. “It is not in the natural order that a son should kill his father.” “Nor is it in the natural order that a village should endure drought and famine as we have.” Asakia’s truculence alarmed the priest, who was concerned that Asakia may be unwilling to rectify his misgivings. “At dusk, you must enter the spirit world. You must make amends with your father and with the spirits.” The priest continued. “I will go and prepare the cup.” The cup was a gourd, filled with a tea made from a sacred flower that transposed human consciousness from the earth to the spirit world. It’s bitter taste was nauseating, but it was the only way to enter the realm of the dead or to find enlightenment. Drinking from the cup was reserved for persons of high status in the village, or for the troubled in need of guidance. In Asakia’s case, he was both. “If the rains pass by dusk, I will refuse the cup.” Asakia interjected. “If the rains pass by dusk, you will not need the cup.” The priest turned and left. The rains endured; violent thunder and lightning continued to shake and brighten the dark skies. Asakia contemplated entering the spirit world. He knew he would not meet his father, whose soul was trapped in the village, but his grandfather and the many chieftains who had ruled before would hardly allow him to leave the other realm as he entered. The priest returned. “It is time.” He said, as he handed the cup to Asakia. “So it is.” Asakia drank from the cup. Asakia stood above dark clouds, and could hear thunder below his feet. Moonlight illuminated the black skies, but the shadows cast by a thick, chilling fog obscured much of his field of vision. A pale figure in a white cloak appeared from the abyss. “Asakia, I am your great grandfather. Three generations before you, I was the village chieftain.” The figure’s voice was bold and sonorous. “Do you know why I sent the rains to the village, Asakia?” “To trap my father’s soul on earth.” Asakia tried to hide his fear. “Yes. The priest has diligently informed you. Do you know why his soul must remain on earth at this time?” The figure continued, his voice as deep as it was convicting. “No.” Asakia confessed. “Once your father enters the spirit world, you will no longer have the opportunity to make amends with him.” The figure’s words were precise. “If he enters the spirit world and you have not reconciled with him, the village will suffer for the duration of your rule.” “My father would smite our village in vendetta? I never thought him so vindictive! Best that I killed him, indeed!” Asakia boasted. “Your father has no control of the matter, you fool!” Another figure, clad in white emerged. “It is the law of nature! Evil begets suffering! Only forgiveness can result in mercy!” The second figure shouted. “And who are you?” Asakia attempted to masquerade intimidation with sarcasm. “I am the ruler who led the village ten generations before your father!” The second figure scoffed. “How dare you speak in this realm as you do!” “How may I make peace with my father?” Asakia asked cautiously. “You must accept responsibility, and endure punishment for your wrongdoing.” The first figure moved foreword. “What is the nature of this punishment?” Asakia’s concern grew. “You must surrender your sight, or the village will find no peace or health in your lifetime.” The second figure instructed. “But how will I...” Asakia pleaded. “Enough!” The first figure motioned for Asakia’s silence. “It is so. You will be blinded for your acts!” Asakia awoke before the priest. He could not see. “What have you lost?” The priest inquired. “My sight. But I have gained favor with the law of nature. I must make peace with my father and address the village, and we may live on in prosperity. These dark times will surely pass.” Asakia said calmly, with sober acceptance. Asakia walked to his father’s pyre and kneeled before its edge. “I am sorry, father.” Asakia shed a tear. “I was wrong.” As Asakia finished his statement, the rains subsided and the clouds began to clear.