WRITING PROMPT NO. 246
The fabric fluttered and drifted in the wind before curling itself around the monks standing on top of the mountain.
In their hands, they held the ashes of a friend cocooned within their fingers cupped together. The wind gathered speed again whisking their orange robes around their legs wrapping them as one.
They stood in a circle murmuring a prayer for the death spirit who shrouded the land as far as they could see. When the wind dropped they turned to face out and held their cupped hands to the air. On a count of three, they closed their eyes and flung the light grey ashes of their friend high into the sky.
The wind gathered speed again and collected the ashes into a whirlwind that twisted and turned the new spirit across the valley.
The monks dropped their heads and murmured more words to the death spirit.
See him well, they said. Love him as we do. Let him be free from this earth and find peace.
The words catch in a small breeze that drifts down the precipice. The whirlwind has dispersed and scattered its delicate cargo across the rock face. A rumble of heavy thunder in the distance threatens.
We must leave now, said one. And they make their way down to the valley bridge.
Feeling brave? Want to share your story? In the words of one Disney princess, Let it go, in the comments below.