Naraka

Here is the next story from my Friday Short Story Roulette! The prompt: "A horror story about living in a Buddhist monastery". Hope you enjoy!

The deep early evening mists swirled around Pema as she walked back up the hill to the monastery dormitories. Up here, the mists were alive. They could even follow you indoors, drifting through hallways and lingering wetly in your clothes. They rose with the monks each day like a rooster crow to the sun and shrouded the entire mountain in grey and green. Cicadas and frogs clicked and buzzed all around, ushering in the sunset.

Looking up the hill, Pema could see a large number of fellow monks and nuns gathered on the roof of the dormitory – stark against the grey sky in their robes. Being on serving duty, she had stayed behind to mop the dining hall floors while everyone else returned to meditate or nap before evening vespers. Why were they all gathered on the roof?

The way to the top of the dorms was a quick dash up five stories of stairs, so by the time she got to the top, Pema was puffing as she sidled up to the circle of people gathered on the roof. They all seemed to be staring at their feet and a horrible feeling hung in the air thicker than the mists. Unable to see through the tight ring of bodies, Pema got on her tip toes and craned her neck to see what everyone was looking at.

Her panting breath stopped short.

There, scrawled in the moss on the floor were the words “Help Me”.

Unable to control her instincts, Pema’s eyes shot nervously from person to person. A few met her gaze guiltily only to quickly look back at their feet. It was the very middle of the sangha’s silent retreat. No talking. No eye contact. No communication of any kind for days still to come. And someone needed help.

The mists drifted around Pema as she stared at the words transfixed. The world grew dark and other monks and nuns trickled away. Unsure how long she had been staring, Pema was shocked back into the moment by the sound of a small distant bell. It was time to get ready for vespers.

For the rest of the night, the entire monastery seemed heavy under the weight of the discovery. People chanted, prostrated, and fell into the usual spiritual clockwork, but the silence between everyone was thicker. It strained on the ears and threatened to break apart from its own pressure. The abbot addressed the sangha regarding the message, but it did little good. During silent retreats, everyone was in an extremely sensitive state. As she got ready for bed, all Pema could do was hope that this wouldn’t be the breaking point for someone else close to the edge. That, and pray that the head monks and nuns would find the one needing help. Trying to bring her mind back to focus, Pema gave into a restless sleep.

Somewhere in the dead of night, Pema awoke to the sound of clacking boards resounding through the hallways. Is it morning already? She thought to herself as she slowly sat up on her narrow bed. Looking around, her room, indeed the whole monastery, was deeply dark. The weak light of early morning still hours away. The only sound remaining the croaking of night frogs.

I probably just dreamed that, Pema thought as she took the opportunity to get up and relieve herself before going back to bed. On her way to the bathroom however, she heard the clacking again – four sharp clacks seeming to come from the hallway.

Now I know I heard that. Pema thought as she turned to head to the hallway; her call to nature forgotten over anxious curiosity. Someone is going to get in big trouble for this. It throws off the entire sangha.

Sure enough, by the time she made it to the hall, other nuns were poking their heads out from their quarters and looking around, sleepy and confused. Well at least I am not crazy, they can hear it too. Yet, just as before, only silence and darkness greeted her and the other nuns in the hallway.

Suddenly, one of the nuns at the opposite end of the hall let out a small yelp as the clacking started again. Louder this time. Like it was in the very hall with them. Clack, clack, clack-clack. But this time, it didn’t stop. Each set of clacks grew louder and seemed to grow closer and closer down the length of the hall. By now, all the nuns were looking around wildly. Some were breaking their silence and whispering to each other. Some simply retreated to their rooms in shock and fear. Then Pema’s eyes fell on Jiyi across the hall.

Jiyi’s eyes were wide open and wild with fear. As the clacking grew closer and louder only she seemed to be looking directly at something. While others swiveled their heads and tried to find the source of the sounds, Jiyi stood transfixed to the spot, staring straight ahead at the empty air where the clacking resonated from. Each clack seemed to be getting closer and closer to Jiyi until the sounds were deafening, each a thunderclap splitting through Pema’s head.

Then Jiyi began to scream.

It wasn’t a single defiant scream but the gasping repetitive screams of a person who has no idea what else to do. Acting instinctively, Pema covered her ears and ran the short distance down the hall to Jiyi, but it was too late. Hands seemed to do nothing against the clacking and Jiyi’s screams, and as Pema drew close to her, Jiyi’s eyes rolled back into her head and she collapsed to the floor. Then, as suddenly as it came, all went quiet in the monastery. The only sound the seemingly unperturbed croaking of frogs.

Concerned, Pema waited by the unconscious Jiyi until the head nuns came rushing to tend to her. Given the timing of their arrival, they could not have heard the clacking. The head nuns only lived a floor above the rest, and seemed to have ran down the stairs only after Jiyi began screaming.

The head nuns dismissed Pema back to her quarters, assuring her that Jiyi would be fine, but Pema did not sleep. Her thoughts were a constant stream of questions and worry only interrupted by chills up her back when she remembered Jiyi’s screams.

The next morning was very hard. Not only was everyone sleep deprived, but the sanctity of the retreat was shattered. As the sangha lined up before breakfast, the hole in the line where Jiyi should have been tugged on everyone’s attention like a black hole. The fear in people’s eyes seemed to say, “When is enough, enough? When does cultivation turn to reckless ignorance?” Regardless, no real danger had occurred so the morning went on as usual. Breakfast was served, cleaning was done, and nothing out of the ordinary seemed to occur. Then, it was time for the morning meditation block.

People filed into the stuffy room and took their places on the cushions. Vespers took place in the prestigious main shrine, but those in the mediation retreat instead occupied a back room of the monastery for their practice. The room had no windows and was made of simple wooden walls and floor boards. A single small fan rotated and hummed at the front of the room near a small wooden Buddha to keep the air from stagnating. It did little against the summer heat.

As a small comfort, the first meditation block of the morning went quite well. Somehow, Pema was able to focus her mind and let go of the sound of Jiyi’s screams for a time. The hum of the fan slowly engulfing her entire world like an electric ohm. Breathing in. Breathing out.

With the second hour of mediation came the ghosts.

Having decided to sit through the walking mediation, Pema was deep into her focus as the walkers returned to their places in the room. Everything settled and it seemed like all would be fine again until Pema felt the breeze of someone walking around her cushion. But there were no footsteps. Not even the soft swishing of robes. Just the feeling of a presence and the change in the air. As it walked by, her stomach suddenly cramped in violent hunger pains like she had never felt before. The sensation was so unnerving that Pema actually peeked her eyes open to see if a particularly quiet monk had inspected her posture. No one was walking around.

Looking around the room with one eye squinted open, Pema noticed that other people were shifting nervously as they sat. Not at all normal for such experienced meditators. Some rolled shoulders as if they were shrugging of invisible hands, others clutched their stomachs, while others were visibly shaking with anxiety. Her own nerves beginning to rise, Pema screwed her eyes shut and tried to count her breath. This all just had to be the sleep deprivation on top of the hours of sitting still.

One… two… three… four. Breathing in. Breathing out.

Suddenly there came a quick gasp and a heavy thud somewhere to the right of Pema. Unable to control herself any longer, Pema spun around with wide eyes just in time to see a monk collapse from his cushion and begin convulsing on the floor. His wild limbs knocked against the monks around him spurring two to run off for help as one other stayed and tried to do anything he could for his helpless friend.

In moments, temple volunteers and the vice abbot were in the room but they brought little comfort. To everyone’s shock they simply drug the fallen man from the room, his shaking making the entire process into a lurching and unsettling parade of fear and uncaring. As the room stilled, the vice abbot made his way to the front of the room to address the sangha the same way the abbot had done the previous day.

“I know you all must be concerned.” He said as his head slowly scanned the room. “You should know that these mountains have spirits in them. When the chi of people become too weak, the spirits can jump into the body like you saw today. Don’t worry. We will restore his chi and he will return. In the meantime, all of you must remain here and continue your cultivation. Keep you chi strong, lest the same happen to you.”

With nothing more, the abbot left. Pema was furious.

This is the last straw. She fumed on her cushion. There is something seriously wrong here. His chi wasn’t weak. We all heard the clacking last night. Only the head monks and nuns can’t seem to feel what is wrong. I’ve lived in this monastery for 10 years. This is new, and it is evil.

When lunch finally came, Pema was proud of her sangha to see that the events of the morning had been the final straw. Small clumps of monks and nuns stood in hidden places chatting wildly about what they felt, what they had seen, and what to do next. They all seemed so afraid and helpless. But Pema was determined. After lunch, she was going to get to the bottom of this.

Lunch did little to abate the painful hunger that had blossomed in her gut after the morning encounter, however, Pema worked through the lightheadedness making sure to take her time so she was the last to leave the dining hall. When she was finished, Pema did not head to the dorms. She headed to the hall of the Hell Realms.

Behind the main shrine of the temple was a smaller shrine off to the side with a golden woman visible from its doors. People would bring offerings to this bodhisattva to pray for mercy on behalf of any ancestors they had who might have ended up the Hell Realms. Inside were paintings of beings subjugated to eternal suffering. People half ground by mill stones. Giant bloated bodies tearing strips of flesh from their feet as they were forced to walk barefoot across endless ice. Horrible images. Pema never, ever, came in here. But as she drew deeper into the shrine, her hunger grew more and more painful. Somehow, she knew that she was in the right place.

Reaching the back of the shrine, her cramping stomach was staring to make her head spin as if she hadn’t eaten in days. Feeling she must be getting close, she nearly walked head-on into a full, round spider web. The clever creature had hung the web so perfectly across a beam of light from a window that the web was invisible until it was right in your face.

Taking a quick step back in shock, Pema noticed the large spider at the webs center. From it resonated deep and powerful hunger. Such painful wanting that it seemed to suck Pema into the center of the web. Reaching her hand out, everything in her screamed to grab the spider and crush it in her hands. No killing. The voice of Pema’s vows rang in her head. But the thing was so wrong. Before she knew what she was doing, her hands were snapping out at the spider to close around it. But as her fingers broke through the tiny strands of the web, reality broke as well.

Losing her balance from the sudden tipping of the world, Pema fell face first through the whole web; feeling its strands pull across her face and wrap around her flailing arms. When her stumbling feet hit ground again, Pema heard the crunch of snow.

All around her the world was a swirling blizzard – black, white, and violent in a sudden night. As Pema began to desperately pull the webs from her face, she caught the outline of a large person standing alone in the snow. With a slow ponderous step forward, the creature revealed itself.

Before her stood what appeared to be a man over six-feet tall garbed in the robes of an ancient Chinese judge. Their colors burned in the night and the fabric billowed wildly around him, blurring his exact form. Where his head should have been sat instead a large and gnarled tree stump. No face greeted her but the roots of the stump curled and twined down the creatures breast like matted locks of beard. Somehow she felts its gaze turn upon her. A wave of desperate hunger hit her so hard that it was too much to bear, and Pema collapsed to her knees in the snow.

Slowly, the creature walked over to her. It knelt down, folding its robes neatly beneath it, and then reached out a knotted root-like arm to lift her chin. When Pema’s gaze met the stump again, she heard a voice in her head. It sounded like groaning wood and hissing wind, deep, resounding, and bitter.

“I am the King of Hungry Ghosts.” It said in her mind causing all of reality to vibrate with the resonance of his power. “I am all things hollow. All things wanting. I am you. I am those that have been lost. The suffering around you feeds me. Will you be able to let go, or will your hunger feed me as well?”

Some distant part of Pema’s mind wondered if she was collapsed on the Hell Shrine floor like Jiyi or the monk from this morning. Was her limp body going to be dragged away while her mind was stuck in freezing cold and hunger? Was she dead? Was she a hungry ghost now? Each thought caused her fear and hunger to grow. Tears were streaming down and freezing on her cheeks. All the while, the Judge loomed over her growing larger and stronger. Pema just felt so small. So helpless. Then something in her broke.

Suddenly, her hunger was gone. The cold was gone. Or, maybe it was that the cold and hunger changed. The blizzard still raged. The Judge still loomed. But it seemed they could not reach Pema. I was right, I am dying she thought, feeling strangely calm.

“No!” The Judge suddenly bellowed ripping his hand away from Pema.

His sudden recoil gave Pema a chance to run, but as soon as the desire crossed her mind, the cold and hunger came crashing into her body again. Aha! She thought at the sudden breakthrough and then threw herself fully into that unreachable place she had only just found. Memories of her deepest mediations came flooding in. Memories of when she had been locked in that store room for a day as a child and lost track of time. Memories of true stillness and transcendence. Pema threw herself deeper and deeper into that place and all faded away – even the resounding screams from the Judge. Nothing around her had changed, but Pema had.

Eventually, the other members of the monastery found Pema in the Hell Shrine seated cross legged and totally still beneath a painting of the cold hell realm. A beam of light framing her form in radiant stillness. There was no sign of any spider webs.

Hearing the approaching people. Pema slowly opened her eyes. The blizzard was gone and she was back in the monastery. “How did you know where to find me?” She asked, caring not for the broken silence.

It was the temple doctor that answered. “Jiyi and the others just woke up. They told us to go find you here immediately. Are you alright?”

“I am now.” Pema said standing to her feet in one smooth motion. “And I think the sangha will be fine for a while as well.”

Confused, the others slowly shuffled out after Pema assured them that she was truly fine. Pema lingered a while staring at the painting of the frozen wasteland she had been found beneath. Stepping out of the shrine, Pema was greeted by the first sunny afternoon she had seen in months. The mist had retreated to the depths of the bamboo forests and warm sun immediately began drying her damp robes.

Turning up her face to drink in the sun, for the very first time, Pema felt totally free.