Master Kwang and the Hungry Ghost,

This is one of the first stories I wrote that was accepted for publication, way back in 2004 in a literary magazine called Flytrap. I reprint it here as a gift to the newbuddhist Sangha. It is only 1700 words, so I've posted it in two parts. Hope you enjoy this little fable from my imagination.

Master Kwang and the Hungry Ghost
by G Costlow

Chapter 1
In which Master Kwang faces a problem

Chou held the lantern up, searching his Master's face for any indication of the torment that must be occurring within the old man. The serenity remained unbroken. Master Kwang sat in lotus position upon a small mat, so motionless that he could be mistaken for a statue placed beside the path that led up the gentle hill to the gates.

The young monk heard a noise somewhere in the dark and looked around nervously, but the crescent moon didn't provide enough illumination to see the temple, let alone the carefully maintained landscape around them. He began to imagine all sorts of danger just beyond reach and calmed himself by remembering one of Master Kwang's poems. I laughed as the crouching bandit in the night became a rock in the morning light.

The Master was a famous poet. He often sought inspiration for his poetry by wandering the surrounding countryside, but had acted strangely upon returning from his latest pilgrimage, heading straight for the library and searching through the ancient scrolls that predated even the building of the temple. When he finally emerged, it was to make the heartbreaking announcement of meeting a Hungry Ghost in an abandoned inn along the way.

He had also announced his intention to engage in solitary meditation outside the wall, resisting all efforts to convince him this was unwise. Now it was approaching morning of the third day, though there were still hours of dark left. The monks within the Buddhist temple always rose before dawn to start their work and meditation. Chou knew the younger students would already be splashing cold water on their faces to drive the sleep from their minds. The older monks had not slept, fasting and praying night and day before the altar for Buddha to help their leader.

"Master Kwang." Chou gestured at the bowls on the ground before the old man. "You have not touched your rice or taken any water. May I offer you tea, instead?"

The Master did not answer at first, lost in his meditation, but eventually he seemed to slump in defeat. "My thirst will no longer be quenched by tea," he replied, "nor will the hunger within me be satisfied by rice. The old legends are indeed true. This night will mark the end of my life among you. I will have to leave."

Chou gasped and cried out, "Master, no! If the Hungry Ghost spirit has indeed invaded your body, please come inside! If you now require the blood of others to survive, I offer my own! Your teaching is a precious jewel. You are needed here!"

The old man jumped to his feet and grabbed the monk by the arms with a suddenness and strength that surprised Chou. He managed to hang onto the lantern and the dancing light revealed a face devoid of reason. Chou braced himself, determined to sacrifice his own life for his beloved teacher. But then the Master relaxed his hold, and finally released his student, patting the shaking man on the shoulder.

"A lifetime of meditation allows me to control this disease of the spirit for now," the Master said. "But I can only delay what must take place. Have I taught you nothing in all the years you have been here? Birth, life, and death, it is all the same. What is it?"

Chou bowed before the great teacher, this familiar lesson allowing him to regain his composure. "It is just like this, Master," he said, gesturing around them at the night.

"And what is our purpose in the world?"

"We must strive night and day to help all beings. That is the first and most important of the rules I have learned at your feet. I cannot express what your poetry and wisdom has meant to me, to all of us at the temple. Is there nothing I can do to help? What shall the temple do without your guidance?"

Master Kwang sat back down and pulled some folded papers from inside his robe, handing them to his student. "I have already prepared for this. One letter contains instructions for the senior monks to elect a new leader, putting the decision in their capable hands. On the other letter you will find I have written a poem. My last order is that no one else opens the gates until daylight. Go back and inform the others that their presence would only make the demon inside of me harder to control. I must be alone."

Chou stood looking at the letters, knowing this meant he'd never see the old man again. Finally he took a deep breath, fell to his knees and bowed a final farewell. Then he went back through the temple gates, closing them once again and locking Master Kwang outside, as requested.

This is one of the first stories I wrote that was accepted for publication, way back in 2004 in a literary magazine called Flytrap. I reprint it here as a gift to the newbuddhist Sangha. It is only 1700 words, so I've posted it in two parts. Hope you enjoy this little fable from my imagination.

Master Kwang and the Hungry Ghost
by G Costlow

Chapter 1
In which Master Kwang faces a problem

Chou held the lantern up, searching his Master's face for any indication of the torment that must be occurring within the old man. The serenity remained unbroken. Master Kwang sat in lotus position upon a small mat, so motionless that he could be mistaken for a statue placed beside the path that led up the gentle hill to the gates.

The young monk heard a noise somewhere in the dark and looked around nervously, but the crescent moon didn't provide enough illumination to see the temple, let alone the carefully maintained landscape around them. He began to imagine all sorts of danger just beyond reach and calmed himself by remembering one of Master Kwang's poems. I laughed as the crouching bandit in the night became a rock in the morning light.

The Master was a famous poet. He often sought inspiration for his poetry by wandering the surrounding countryside, but had acted strangely upon returning from his latest pilgrimage, heading straight for the library and searching through the ancient scrolls that predated even the building of the temple. When he finally emerged, it was to make the heartbreaking announcement of meeting a Hungry Ghost in an abandoned inn along the way.

He had also announced his intention to engage in solitary meditation outside the wall, resisting all efforts to convince him this was unwise. Now it was approaching morning of the third day, though there were still hours of dark left. The monks within the Buddhist temple always rose before dawn to start their work and meditation. Chou knew the younger students would already be splashing cold water on their faces to drive the sleep from their minds. The older monks had not slept, fasting and praying night and day before the altar for Buddha to help their leader.

"Master Kwang." Chou gestured at the bowls on the ground before the old man. "You have not touched your rice or taken any water. May I offer you tea, instead?"

The Master did not answer at first, lost in his meditation, but eventually he seemed to slump in defeat. "My thirst will no longer be quenched by tea," he replied, "nor will the hunger within me be satisfied by rice. The old legends are indeed true. This night will mark the end of my life among you. I will have to leave."

Chou gasped and cried out, "Master, no! If the Hungry Ghost spirit has indeed invaded your body, please come inside! If you now require the blood of others to survive, I offer my own! Your teaching is a precious jewel. You are needed here!"

The old man jumped to his feet and grabbed the monk by the arms with a suddenness and strength that surprised Chou. He managed to hang onto the lantern and the dancing light revealed a face devoid of reason. Chou braced himself, determined to sacrifice his own life for his beloved teacher. But then the Master relaxed his hold, and finally released his student, patting the shaking man on the shoulder.

"A lifetime of meditation allows me to control this disease of the spirit for now," the Master said. "But I can only delay what must take place. Have I taught you nothing in all the years you have been here? Birth, life, and death, it is all the same. What is it?"

Chou bowed before the great teacher, this familiar lesson allowing him to regain his composure. "It is just like this, Master," he said, gesturing around them at the night.

"And what is our purpose in the world?"

"We must strive night and day to help all beings. That is the first and most important of the rules I have learned at your feet. I cannot express what your poetry and wisdom has meant to me, to all of us at the temple. Is there nothing I can do to help? What shall the temple do without your guidance?"

Master Kwang sat back down and pulled some folded papers from inside his robe, handing them to his student. "I have already prepared for this. One letter contains instructions for the senior monks to elect a new leader, putting the decision in their capable hands. On the other letter you will find I have written a poem. My last order is that no one else opens the gates until daylight. Go back and inform the others that their presence would only make the demon inside of me harder to control. I must be alone."

Chou stood looking at the letters, knowing this meant he'd never see the old man again. Finally he took a deep breath, fell to his knees and bowed a final farewell. Then he went back through the temple gates, closing them once again and locking Master Kwang outside, as requested.

Part 2!! Part 2!!

Originally separate threads.
Currently threads cannot be combined, so I posted this on behalf of @Cinorjer....

Master Kwang and the Hungry Ghost, part 2

Chapter 2
In which an encounter takes place in the night.

No sooner had he left than a shadow detached itself from the night and became a young girl who looked barely in her teens, dressed in rags and with a pale, hollow face. The Hungry Ghost had been watching the meeting between Chou and his Master. In fact, she had been anticipating the event, hoping to share in the bounty. Her earlier visit had provided little sustenance, but assured her that anyone coming out of the temple to check on the old man would not be returning this night.

When the monk was allowed to leave unharmed, she was confused enough to miss the opportunity to take the meal for herself. Her disbelief became anger, then puzzlement. She wanted answers. She approached the sitting monk, her bare feet not even disturbing the dew on the grass.

"Tell me why you let the man go," she demanded. "I know the hunger must be burning within you. I feel the same hunger each night, a pain in my stomach that grows stronger each minute until it consumes my every thought." She looked at the temple gate, adorned with sacred images she could not bring herself to touch. "I have fed on you these past two nights, but now you have no blood left to give and I will have to hunt again. You could have made it harder for me, hid within your holy walls, but you stayed out here where I could find you. Why?"

The Master remained silent, as he had every night before. She drew closer and kicked the bowl of useless rice away, determined to force a response this time. "You did not even cry out for help when I attacked you. You are now as I am, a Hungry Ghost. How do you resist the blood craving? If you are a teacher, then teach me your secret, so that I too will not have to kill to survive!"

Master Kwang finally turned his head and looked at her, acting as if he were lecturing a novice monk instead of a creature from the realm of nightmare. "The legends in the scrolls said you would follow and continue to haunt me, so I felt it better to meet you out here rather than risk danger to the other monks in the temple. As for stopping the unholy hunger within you, come kneel down next to me, and I will show you the way."

She had no fear of him, knowing he was now one of her kind and would soon have to flee along with her into some dark hole to escape the burning daylight. Yet when the girl came within reach, he snatched her by the wrist with a grip she discovered unbreakable, in spite of her greatest struggles.

"Are you mad?" she finally said. "You cannot feed on me; only the nourishing life fluid of a mortal will do. It is too late for revenge. You are a demon now, same as I!"

"Calm yourself, girl," he replied. "You are not to blame for your actions after you became a Hungry Ghost. How could a child be expected to act otherwise than you, clinging to existence at any price? Yet, I cannot let you continue to prey upon others. The demon spirit you have infected me with has now given me strength enough to hold you tight."

"You lied to me! You want to keep the secret for yourself. Whatever your plan, you will have to release me eventually. If you won't help, I will haunt this place and feed on your friends, until I find one who is willing to teach me."

"I did not lie to you. There is only one cure for our illness." He pointed toward the East with his free hand. "See? The dawn is about to arrive. Soon we will be free from the curse and begin our rebirth together. May Buddha grant you a better life next time, child."

This reminder that the sun was about to appear caused her to fight harder, cursing and striking the old monk. He held tight and finally she had to admit defeat. Instead of pulling away, she collapsed into the arms of the Master, sobbing.

"I'm afraid! I don't want to die, demons go to Hell!"

The Master held her close, soothing her fears. "You died a long time ago, child, and entered Hell when you became a Hungry Ghost. I am only showing you the way out. It's all right to be afraid. I will have courage for us both." As the first rays of sunlight speared through the darkness, Master Kwang began to rock the crying girl, singing a soft lullaby.

# # #

When Chou looked for his Master later that day, he found only an empty robe and a pile of ashes under the bright summer sun. The monks were surprised to discover the arms of the robe were wrapped around some smelly rags, but after a brief debate these were thrown upon the rubbish pile. Every last speck of ash was carefully collected and placed within an urn, and buried with honors and full ceremony among the other graves in the temple cemetery. The great Master Kwang's death poem was written into the records, although most could not understand it at all, given the old man's tragic fate.

"Where there is compassion, there are no demons. Hell, too, is just like this."

Very good, salutary and poignant.....