Your significant other has passed away so you drop your life and become a Tibetan monk. After ten years in seclusion you wake up one morning and see a mushroom cloud in the distance.

Time had stopped. The seasons still passed. The lousewort flowered and bloomed. The tourists, what few there were this far north, ebbed and flowed as the snows came and went. But for me, time had ceased.

Meditation was hard, harder than I had imagined and harder still to grasp. I’d been a busy man in life, following orders, always ready at a moments notice, and it wasn’t something you could just turn off. The monks helped, as was their nature.

I learnt to fold paper and folded a thousand cranes, but no wish was granted because no wish could be asked. She had gone and left only grief.

This morning was different. The cloister running along the Eastern cliff was still, with not even the chirping of the birds to provide solace. And there, out over the far horizons, where civilisation built it’s monuments, there was nothing.

Only the cloud to end the seasons.

Time was starting again.


Prompt originally posted by Pancakesandwich on reddit and received 3 upvotes.

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