Painted Wall

Wed, 16 Jul 2025 00:00:00 +0000

The temple sat at the edge of the eastern hills, forgotten by everyone except the old monk who swept its courtyard each morning.

My friend Meng said we should rest there. The sun was high, the road was dust, and the gates stood open like a mouth waiting to receive us. I agreed because I was young and had no reason to disagree with anything.

The monk received us with tea so thin it tasted of nothing but warm water. We sat in the main hall. The air smelled of old incense and stone that had been cold for a long time. The walls were covered in murals—Buddhist scenes, mostly. Celestial maidens scattering flowers. Bodhisattvas seated on lotus leaves. Colors faded by decades of incense smoke, faces worn soft at the edges.

Fantasy on Evil Genius

Painted Wall