MOONLIT

EARLY LIFE.

Although this first secion is set in the Joseon era of Korean history, Karam is not an historical muse nor am I especially interested in writing within the historical genre. This is just for backstory purposes. If I had to pick any genre for Karam, it'd be urban fantasy. If I don't have some kind of horrible neon city bullshit as the backdrop for my stories, my brain turns into dust! <3

Karam was raised in the mountains by a nature spirit as one of a pair of fraternal twins. He was aided by his mother until he was old enough to fend for himself and promptly left to fight his own battles. He doesn’t remember much of the early days, they were much too long ago, and he barely knew his mother long enough to think of her as anything much more than a mentor long since passed from his life. Smaller and seeimingly weaker than his twin, his mother (unprepared to raise twins, a bafflingly rare occurrence among spirits of this kind) abandoned him. Karam had been young enough, small enough, that he ought to have died of something. Even spirits are vulnerable as children. He remembers little of his twin, even their name feels distant. In fact, all he remembers are the days spent training his reflexes, catching and eating fish from the river.

It was the forest that took Karam in. He had travelled for days, wandering aimlessly with nowhere specific to go, before finally collapsing of exhaustion in a thicket of dying shrubbery. The spirits of the forest recognised him as a guardian and took pity on him. Perhaps he would reward their kindness with protection once he was old enough. The forest raised Karam when his true mother refused and, though the trees could never return the sentiment, the young spirit loved the forest as family.

Yet, after fifty years, the unchanging scenery wore on Karam's patience. It was one thing to be alone but quite another to be bored at the same time. He had seen humans pass through the forest, watched them with suspicion and intrigue, and wondered about them. (He had even discovered their corpses amongst the trees and put their spirits to rest, the same as all other animals.) They looked just like him, if the distorted images of his own face reflected on the river's surface were to be trusted, but he knew they were much weaker beings with short lifespans. Although the forest begged him to stay and although it warned him that humans could be dangerous, the curiosity began to eat away at him. His departure was abrupt; a man had passed through the forest and, without even finding the time to bid his proper farewells, Karam followed behind him. Eventually, just on the outskirts of town, the man noticed Karam and, finding him unusual, sent him to the house of an older shaman woman.

The woman recognised Karam as a spirit the moment she laid eyes on him and, concerned his arrival was a grave omen, she tried to send him away but seeing Karam, who was not ready to leave before any of his answers about human life had been answered, reacted with the stubbornness of a petulant teenager, assured the woman that she was in the presence of a harmless juvenile spirit. She allowed him to stay with her for the time being but, much like the forest, warned him to be careful around humans; with his strange colouring and odd behaviour, he would do well to avoid trouble. She soon learned that he was too quiet to cause much disruption, often preferring to watch people from a careful distance. Because she was an older woman, unmarried and childless, it had been some time since she'd had close company and she grew to appreciate Karam's presence, unusual though he was. It was not long before this quiet youth had become a natural part of her life, aiding her in her work and running the errands her old bones could no longer handle. Karam had not learned to trust the townspeople but he trusted the old woman. Opened himself up to her. Frowned when he was confused. Scowled when he was cross. Smiled when he was happy, laughed when he was pleased. But he never cried, even when times were hard, even when he was treated unfairly by others and shunned for his differences, for struggling to understand others.

While many people in this small part of town came to accept Karam, some avoided him and others were more suspicious. Karam was deeply unpopular with the chief of the Podocheong (Joseon's answer to the police) and seen as a suspicious outsider but he and his officers were not immediately able to find an excuse to apprehend him. Yet Karam, oblivious to human law, would turn out to be an easy target and was soon caught in the act of theft. The resulting scuffle ended in a newer, more agitated officer drawing his blade and accidentally wounding Karam. The chief followed him as he ran off, unnoticed by a panicked Karam, and there he found his suspicions proven so much more clearly than he could have imagined. It was with stunned horror that the chief watched, peering around the corner of an alleyway with his back against the wall, as Karam's wound began to disappear, torn flesh fusing back together and no scar left in its trace. This stranger was no man. This was a creature who could not be killed by human weaponry, a creature who would have to be driven out.

One day, when Karam was out in the town running errands, the chief and his closest officer paid the woman a visit. They demanded that, as the only person to whom this outside listened, she should send him away. She refused, asked them to leave instead. They inform her that this is an order, not a request. Once again, she asks them to leave. The officers close the door behind them, tell her this is her final warning and that, if the boy won't willingly leave, they will make him go. She puts her foot down. The sound of gunfire echoes around the room. The woman falls to the floor, her face contorted in fear as blood gushes from the whole in her forehead. She is already dead when Karam finally returns. They had waited for his return, the chief and his officer. They had waited so that they could personally tell Karam this was the price of living here. Suddenly, he's angry. He feels rage like he's never felt it before. It's burns so strong in the pit of his stomach that he might throw up. He moves before he thinks and he moves too quickly for them to react. One moment, Karam is at the door and in the next, the officer's limp body falls to the floor with his neck cut deep with his own sword. And then, in the next, Karam has thrown the blade aside and he has the chief on the floor and half his throat in his mouth. The chief's gun is aimed right at Karam now, the barrel pressed against his forehead, but his grip is shaky and the bullet misses. The very last thing he does before the last gasp of life leaves him is declare Karam a monster and, as the stench of blood begins to settle and his eyes falls upon the old woman's body, Karam thinks it might just be true. This was not what she would have wanted, not what she would have asked for, but Karam was not meant to be among people. That much clear to him now.

The townspeople recoil in horror when he finally emerges from the house, blood staining his clothes and skin and coating his hair thick and dry. Yet, by the time anybody traces his steps back to the carnage of the old woman's home, Karam is already far from the town - Karam, who is meant to be alone, who is deeply unwanted by most and a threat to anybody else. Yet, when he returns home to the forest, it is as though he had never left; he was accepted without question, welcomed back to his true home. The trees celebrated his return; 'you are where you are meant to be'. In the warm embrace of the forest, Karam could finally cry. Cry because he was sad. Cry because he was hurt. Cry because all he knew was regret.

• Continue?

CURRENT.

Karam would spend the next couple of centuries living in his forest undisturbed. Both his trust and interest in humans had long since faded, and he could see on the horizon the ways the world was changing around him. Where that once been forest and lush grass fields stood great, ugly blocks of concrete and hazy lights. The world of humans was not one Karam understood nor was it one he longed to understand. The forest could have told you itself, if you had been able to hear it, that the years had taken their toll on Karam. He had turned sour, grown quietly resentful and untrusting. He spoke to nobody, not even the travellers who would find themselves lost in the forest's winding paths. Though he was lonely, Karam knew this was for the best. So long as he was alone, he could not be poisoned by human rage.

The year is 2019. Karam's peaceful solitude is drawn to an end, whether he likes it or not. For years now, the forest has been at thread and humans have shown interest in harming it. Karam has done his best, again and again, to ward them off but rumours of a demon who will tear out your throat and ghost stories can only work for so long. One day, they come in with their signs, bright red and emblazoned with the name of some conglomerate, and their machines, their harvesters and forwarders, and they tear the forest apart. Karam is helpless to stop him. It does not stop him from trying but his sudden appearance startles a machinery operator and he is knocked unconscious into a ditch by a crane. When the operator finds him, his bones are broken and it looks as though he didn't survive the fall. Frightened, the operator leaves him there and pretends that nothing happened. By the time Karam finishes healing and comes to, night is falling and his home is almost gone. The home he loved, the home that accepted him time and time again when nobody else would, is gone.

With nowhere else to go, he is forced to wander the streets of the human city once again. Nothing is as he remembers, the hanoks replaced with skyscrapers and every street ablaze with a neon glow. The streets are full of cars and there are more humans around than he has seen in his entire life. Karam continues to wander like this for a few days, unable to understand or navigate the world around. Although he cannot die as a regular human might, hunger and thirst and exhaustion weaken him. The experience is overwhelming and traumatic and the events of the week quickly catch up with him. He collapses on the street but, mistaken by most for a down-and-out, he is left ignored.

Eventually, he is discovered by a woman who mistakes him for a ghost. She sees his confusion and distress, and assumes he cannot be long dead but, when he loses his balance and falls into her, she comes to understand that he is a breathing, living person. Karam wants her to leave, he can handle this by himself, but he's too weak to protest and wakes up the next day in a strange bed in her apartment. He learns that her name is Baek Sumi and that she is a spiritual medium who helps ghosts for a living. Sumi offers to let him live in her spare room for free and, although he still does not trust her, he accepts her offer. (Later, he overhears her telling someone that, although she'd have helped him no matter what, she had felt even more compelled to take him in because he reminded her ever so much of her late brother and, although he is not fond of being compared to any human, he feels he can relate to her grief.) She helps him get tidied up, agrees to buy him clothes and fixes his hair for him. He lets him make all the decisions, encouraging him to explore his own personal taste. She says she can tell he's holding himself back and that he has secrets but he ought to at least try being himself as best he can. To Karam, who has spent his whole life warned not to act too much like himself, the idea is a novel one.

Once Karam has warmed to Sumi, she helps him find a job so that he might be able to gain some independence and he starts working at a shop that doubles as a florist's and a teahouse. Karam resents serving people and provides terrible customer service but his passion for tending to the flowers and plants has convinced his boss to keep him around. Adjusting to modern life has been difficult for Karam but, bit by bit, he's learning. Perhaps one day, he'll open himself up again.

PERSONALITY.

In the face of strangers, Karam is very quiet and guarded, and can appear standoffish. He’s fussy and likes things to go his own way. It seems that he is disdainful of humans, blaming them for the state of the planet they inhabit. He is capable of befriending humans and has done so before but, for the most part, he is distrustful of them and has a low opinion of mankind as a whole. There is a kinder side to him too but it is carefully reserved for those who know him better, even in spite of him not being especially precious about his private affairs. He is untrusting and slow to warm to people, human or otherwise. Karam is very blunt, not because he doesn’t care about others’ feelings but because he hasn’t ever learned to think before he speaks. He’s used to being by himself and he’s not used to factoring in what other people think of him. Karam is cautious and finds himself suddenly forced to care what people think about him because he doesn’t trust people. He’s aware that people mistreat those they don’t understand.