Upwards Path
Kato knew the stories: the temple at the top of the mountain held an immense treasure. Usually Kato, always a pragmatic man, paid little heed to stories. But a man of his trade seldom discarded anything, and so he did pay attention. And so he noticed the stories kept coming, and they all mentioned the same facts: the temple was always unguarded, and full of riches.
Kato made up his mind: all one decided man like himself had to do was to climb the mountain, enter the temple, pick some of those riches, and walk away. Kato had no illusions regarding the “unguarded” part of the stories: he imagined there would be some monks who wouldn’t really like to part with their belongings, and he was prepared for anything.
Kato stood at the foot of the mountain and looked up. It was impressive indeed: the mountain was shaped like a column, a giant stool that sprouted from the ground up. How anyone could have had the patience to build a temple on top, Kato didn’t know. Not that he minded. The staircase wound up, slithering through bushes and stone towards the mountaintop.
With a sigh, Kato started climbing.
The stories mentioned the climb took three days. Three days! Kato had enough food with him for five. He thought that there would be more people in the path, and he intended to avoid them if at all possible, so he had allowed for up to two extra days. After that… well, he supposed the temple would have food on top of treasures, wouldn’t it? If worse came to worst, Kato was no newcomer to living off mother nature.
So he climbed, and climbed, and climbed. The path clung to the mountainside, snaking its way up. Here and there there were patches of plain road, but most of it was made of steps carved out of the stone. Kato soon found it boring, and after that tiresome. All he did was walk up, and think.
He hadn’t had an easy life, Kato knew. But he had stopped deceiving himself a long time ago: his choice of career wasn’t only due to that hard childhood he had endured. He had also made his own mistakes and paid for them. And here he was, a petty thief with a plan. Ah, a purveyor of fine items, he used to think. A purveyor for himself, and the items had not always parted company with their previous owners of their own accord.
What was that? A pang of guilt? Kato shuddered. Guilt had been left behind ten years ago, when he had had second thoughts about stealing from a pretty girl who was obviously just a little bit less poor than he was, and had refrained from it. Kato’s employer had not been happy, and he had earned two days without food in the process. And a lesson in futility. Kato had become a cynic then.
Still, he had always -alright, almost always- taken from the very rich. And then from the rich. And then from well-done people.
One step after another, Kato realized he did feel guilty still. He always had. He had justified his actions by stealing from those people. He had always told to himself they really didn’t need the money, the trinkets, the jewels he took. That didn’t make it better. And he knew it.
So engrossed he was in his thoughts that Kato didn’t see the man until the last moment. He cursed: so much for being discreet on his way up.
“Good day,” the man said, bowing slightly. Kato realized the man wore the robes of a monk.
“Good day,” Kato answered.
“You’re going to the temple,” the monk said. Kato noticed it wasn’t a question.
“Yes.”
The monk stared at him. Kato felt weird. What was that in the man’s eyes?
“I hope you find what you are looking for,” the monk said. “It is said that the temple will show every man what he is worth for.”
And nodding, he kept walking down the stairs.
Kato stood for a long time, looking at the back of the monk until he disappeared behind a corner. The temple will show every man what he is worth for. What had he meant by that?
The next morning Kato was angry. He hadn’t slept well, his dreams fitful and ominous. He had awoken several times during the night, paying attention to his surroundings, but all he had heard were the sounds of the night.
And so the second man took him by surprise as well.
“Good day,” the man said. He was another monk. In fact, to Kato he looked like the one he had met the day before.
“Good day,” Kato said. He stood and started packing.
“If it is indeed a good day, why are you so angry?” the man said.
“Sorry?”
“Leave your anger behind, for it cannot help you,” the monk said. “Good bye!”
And the monk left. Kato stared, astonished, but he felt like a weight had been lifted off his soul, and he didn’t remember his anger any more. The climb was just as long and slow as the day before, but Kato started noticing that the mountainside was beautiful, boasting green bushes and small trees where birds sang. The sky was perfect blue, and it was warm enough for him to take off his vest.
Kato didn’t realize he was whistling until dusk, when he stopped to eat and sleep.
The next morning Kato woke early. He felt light and purposeful. He packed quickly and started walking as he ate some bread and cheese. Clouds started gathering, and by mid-morning a fine drizzle started, but Kato just pushed on with a determined smile.
The drizzle gave way to rain. Kato tied his hat down and kept on walking, carefully navigating the steps that had become slippery. In the afternoon, the rain had become a storm. Kato was soaked, but there was little he could do about it but keep walking: the bushes wouldn’t keep him dry.
Thunder clapped above him, and then, under the light of a lightning, Kato saw it: the temple, right there, waiting for him.
Kato walked up to the gate. He pushed it, and discovered it was unlocked.
A man stood at the gate. He was a monk. Again Kato thought he looked like the two other monks.
“Welcome, stranger,” the monk said.
Kato nodded. “Thank you.”
“Why have you come to the temple?” the monk asked.
“I came looking for the treasure of the temple,” Kato blurted out. But the monk just nodded, and simply put a finger on Kato’s chest.
“Look for it in here,” the monk said.
Kato nodded.
“I have found it,” he said.
The monk stepped aside for him to enter.
~~~~
This is my accompanying entry for the Weekly Writing Exercise: May 8–14, 2017 at the Writer’s Discussion Group on Google+. I am responsible for creating the prompts for the Exercise, so I don’t take part, but I still like to write a story each week.
Late. I’m so late this week. So a short explanation: I had this idea, went with it, and came up with a story that was almost double the length that regular participants have. What can I say, I’m a cheater.
