Will you get mad if todays cryptid is nowhere close to a cryptid?
I hope not, because it will happen more and more as time moves on. For the purposes of my weirdness and this site, the Cryptid category will be all kinds of goblins, ghosts, monsters, yokai…
Ding Ding Ding.
Back on subject.
Todays post is in fact a Yokai. Its name is Shirime and is best know because of the art works of Buson. It is gross, ridiculous, and hilarious (to any of us whose inner child is not completely dead).
Best of all, it is now available as an STL download, a raw 3d print on PLA +, or as a clean hand painted model.
The Story of Shirime as told to me:
Gather ’round, young ones, and listen closely. I will share with you an old tale, one that has been passed down through the ages. It is a story of caution, of humility, and of the unexpected wonders that the world holds. This is the story of Shirime, a curious spirit from the folklore of ancient Japan.
Long, long ago, in the twilight of the Edo period, there lived a wandering samurai. This samurai, known for his bravery and skill in battle, had grown weary of the endless conflicts and sought a life of peace. He traveled alone, finding solace in the quietude of the countryside, away from the turmoil of the feudal lords and their endless quests for power.
One evening, as the samurai walked along a deserted road, the full moon cast long shadows through the trees. The night was calm, and the air was filled with the songs of crickets and the distant hoot of an owl. Suddenly, the samurai sensed he was not alone. A feeling of unease crept over him, and he instinctively rested his hand on the hilt of his sword.
Ahead, in the moonlit path, a figure appeared. It was a man, or so it seemed at first glance, dressed in a simple kimono. The man had his back turned to the samurai and did not move or speak. Curious but cautious, the samurai called out, “Who goes there? State your business!”
The figure remained silent, unmoving, like a statue carved from the night itself. The samurai took a step forward, his eyes narrowing as he tried to discern the stranger’s intentions. As he approached, the man slowly began to disrobe, lowering his kimono to reveal his back.
To the samurai’s astonishment, where the stranger’s face should have been, there was nothing but smooth skin. And then, as if from a nightmare, a large, round eye opened in the center of the stranger’s buttocks, staring directly at the samurai. This eerie eye glowed with an otherworldly light, its gaze piercing and unsettling.
The samurai, though brave, felt a chill run down his spine. He had heard tales of yokai and spirits that roamed the land, but never had he encountered one so bizarre. The eye blinked slowly, as if mocking the samurai’s disbelief. Then, without a word, the figure vanished into the darkness, leaving the samurai standing alone, bewildered and shaken.
This spirit, my dear ones, is known as Shirime, which means “buttocks eye.” It is said that Shirime appears to travelers at night, not to harm them, but to startle them and remind them of the strange and wondrous world they inhabit. Some believe that Shirime’s presence is a lesson in humility, a reminder that not everything can be understood or explained, no matter how wise or powerful one may be.
The samurai, having encountered Shirime, continued his journey with a newfound respect for the mysteries of the world. He realized that courage was not just about facing physical threats, but also about embracing the unknown and the inexplicable. And so, he carried this lesson with him, sharing it with those he met along his travels.
Remember, young ones, the world is full of wonders and enigmas. Do not be quick to dismiss what you cannot comprehend. Embrace the mysteries, for they teach us humility and broaden our understanding of the world around us. And if you ever find yourself walking alone under the moonlight, keep your eyes open, for Shirime may be watching, ready to remind you of the marvels that lie just beyond our grasp.
Learn more about the artist responsible for this model at Stepbastard.com.