Welcome to Maid Spin, the personal website of iklone. I write about about otaku culture as well as history, philosophy and mythology.
My interests range from anime & programming to mediaevalism & navigation. Hopefully something on this site will interest you.
I'm a devotee of the late '90s / early '00s era of anime, as well as a steadfast lover of maids. My favourite anime is Mahoromatic. I also love the works of Tomino and old Gainax.
To contact me see my contact page.
The old fisherman was sat in his usual spot by the old trout-pond, his willow rod leant against a stump as the line drifted lazily across the surface. It was cold today, he thought as he rocked back on his wicker chair and pulled up the collar of his jacket around his neck. Nothing was biting today either, but he hardly expected to catch anything any more, rather he just enjoyed being outside. The north wind rattled through the bowing arms of the weeping willows as it whisked away the fog of his breath. But none of Jack Frost's trick could keep the old fisherman from his station.
Suddenly the mood changed, a sliver of sunlight escaped through the clutches of the grey sky above, tracing out an area of light which quickly skipped across the pond towards the old man, bathing him in a weak warmth portending the coming spring. The sun's heat could hardly be called "warming", but the little comfort it brought was much appreciated. Suddenly the sound of cracking twigs from the path behind him pricked his mind from its aged torpour.
"Good morning Mr Fisherman," shouted out the princess as she ran up to the fisherman's chair, her face flush in a warm glow, "look what I've found!". She held out her palms excitedly to the old man, a small dirty looking object in their midst.
"Oh good morning your Highness, bright as always aren't you? Well let me see here, what have you found today?" The princess' little hands were held far too close for his old eyes to properly focus, so he craned his neck back and peered at the object down the ridge of his nose.
"It's a ring!" she declared, grinning; "I found it in the rose garden."
"Did you now?" replied the fisherman, "well isn't that lovely?" Still struggling to see the tiny little thing, he could just about make out the shape of a ring through both his poor eyesight and the soil accumulated sound it. It looked old and forgotten, probably a trinket lost by some wealthy visitor to the hall. They must have deemed it too much effort to search for and left it to be compacted into the soil by the beat of the gardener's trowel.
"I'm going to wash it clean in the pond, that's why I came down here." The princess wiped the ring against the skirt of her already-mucky pinafore and held it up to her face, inspecting it with an intensity she certainly inherited from her parents. "Do you think it's made of silver? I can't tell."
"Silver perhaps, maybe even gold." The fisherman leant back again in his chair with a creak, "But what would a young lady like you do with such a ring? Jewellery is for the grown-ups."
The princess cocked her head to one side and placed a finger on her lip in an expression of serious contemplation. Thinking for a few moments she said, "Well maybe I will just keep it in a box to look at, or maybe..." her face suddenly lit up as if reaching a moment of eureka, "or maybe I'll keep it for my wedding-day! Then I'll be able to wear it every day forever and ever!" She nodded smugly in the manner of a girl who had solved a particularly troublesome riddle, "Yes I'll keep it safe until I'm old enough to be a a bride!"
"Oho?" the old man chuckled, "I think that's a grand plan my young lady."
"Hehe, I know", she replied, puffing out her chest, "now I better clean it up now before the maids call for me." With that she skipped over to the pond and trudged through the few steps muddy foreshore to the water's edge.
"Be careful there," shouted out the man, "we wouldn't want you ruining your nice clothes." But the little girl just smiled and pointed at her little rain boots: she had come well prepared. The fisherman watched the girl from his perch as she worked. First she hiked up her skirt above her knees and pinned it in place expertly using the buckle of her pinafore. Then she carefully leant down over the rippling surface, taking care to ensure her clothes never touched the mud beneath her before delicately dipping the ring into the ice-cold water and scrubbing away at it with a little brown handkerchief she unveiled from her front pocket. She worked diligently and precisely with the dexterity of an older girl, carefully washing then scrubbing the ring in the water for a few seconds, inspecting the progress, and then repeating the process over. She was engrossed in her little task in a way that only certain children can be, her concentration such that hardly anything could have got pulled away her attention. Hardly anything.
"Froggie!" she suddenly exclaimed, pointing her finger towards what the old man could only assume was some amphibious creature which had just emerged from the depths, "come here Mr Frog!" With the previously all-important task at hand forgotten in a moment, the princess turned her undivided attention instead to this certain "Mr Frog Esq." Squelching her way along the muddy bank, she held out her hands in some vain attempt at coaxing him in. But the hunting instinct of children should never be underestimated, and a few minutes of squelching and tactical manoeuvring later the frog was gripped firmly between her hands. She held the slimy thing up and peered inquisitively into into black eyes, presumedly communicating with it through some purely cerebral method. She stayed in this position for a long while until, evidently not shocked with whatever she had to say, the frog made a heroic escape freeing himself from her iron claw and launching his body a good seven feet in one smoothly executed movement. With a "plop" he landed back into the water and was instantly disappeared, reunited with the black deep. The princess staggered a little, looking for a moment like she was about to fall backwards into the sludge, but managed to steady herself at the last second avoiding a potential laundry-disaster for whoever washes her clothes. After recuperating her balance she turned to the old man and shouted in a tone of shock tinged with a hint of anger, "Mr Frog took my ring!"
This episode left the fisherman standing up, having instinctively risen with the chaos. "Come out from the mud young miss you're going to fall. How do you mean the frog took the ring?"
Doing as she was told, she climbed up from the water's edge onto the drier ground, her gait now suggesting something closer to an impetuous stomp. "He took it!" she repeated, "he grabbed it when he jumped and now its gone. He took it with him down to the bottom of the pond where I'll never get it back."
The frustration in her eyes was clear to see, and it threatened to overflow into juvenile tears. "Now now, you know that can't be true," replied the man, struggling to find the right words, "frogs are good creatures, it must have been a mistake. Maybe you just dropped it where you were standing?"
"No I saw him do it. I saw the shine of the ring as he splashed in, I know he did it on purpose! I-". Her words were suddenly cut off by the ringing of a bell from up towards the hall, and the faint shouting of a female voice calling "lunchtime, lunchtime". "I've got to go."
She turned without another word and began her stroppy walk back up the hill, the emotions welling up in her eyes. "Wait, little miss wait," the old man shouted towards her back, his voice strained, "listen, I'll get that ring back for you, don't worry. You just come back tomorrow and you can have it back then." She stopped and turned back towards him, just about managing a strained smile before continuing her retreat at a running pace: "That's a promise Mr Fisherman, you promised."
