I've learned a lot about good and evil. They are not always what they appear to be.
Charles Van Doren
Chesta was home. A quiet temple nestled into the mountains. The sun's rays peaked through the open air windows. Brown curtains rustled along the clay walls.
The sky was shades of amber and periwinkle. He felt peace with every morning's red and pink hues over the mountain.
The morning birds would chirp, bringing their songs to him as he would sleep an extra few minutes. If it meant shaving time from eating that was fine with him. He was never hungry anymore.
Sleeping made it more bearable.
He could hear the patted sounds of feet running through the halls. Other boys like him going into rooms to meditate, or to listen to lectures.
There was a quiet calm here, no sudden sounds that frightened him. No screams and quiet begging sobs.
He detached himself more, more from what it was that tied him to his body. It was hard, but it was worth it. To go home, to feel alive again and calm. Home brought him calm.
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