Balance, in all things, the monk thought, his face calm and serene, as pea-sized drops of rain pounded the surface of his scalp like a drum.
The world around him buzzed with static, yet his mind was like a lake on a summer day. He assumed the lotus position, feet crossed, hands intertwined in his lap, and entered his mind like he would another world. He buried himself in his inner lake.
Sun, rain. Grass, earth. Body, mind. All one. The words of his master moved like an echo over the surface of the lake. “Remember this, Yuan”, he’d say, “and never be afraid of life.”
Now a master in his own right, Yuan remembered the war years. In his mind’s eye, the temple behind him slumped to the ground, burned to cinders, while soldiers yelled their orders and flung their bayonetts at his fellow brothers.
The soldiers had made him watch everything.
And he had. He had knelt into the wet grass, as still as a fresh kill, and watched, as the blood of his brothers was spilled into the night and the fire bellowed like an angry beast.
But he had rebuilt everything. It had only taken time, the only resource that should never be hoarded. He had hammered the first nail with trembling fingers, all alone on the mountaintop, surrounded by splinters and the smell of burned wood.
The raindrops echoing in his ears calmed him now. They reminded him of all the struggles that he had endured, that were now a memory. The screaming of the wind was nothing but a sweet song to him now. He had been to hell and he had returned.
Author bio: Andrei Sisman is a law graduate from Bucharest, Romania. He has been interested in works written in the English language for the past decade and has started writing after being inspired by amazing authors and books that gave his life meaning and helped him learn this amazing language