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250 word Drabble: The Name Collector
Aug. 29th, 2010 07:57 pmWritten for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
avatar_500 prompt #10, Monk.
Summary: Xiangzhi loves funerals.
The Name Collector
He always arrived during funerals.
The girl’s family sobbed, and moaned, and carried on, calling out her name to themselves as he stepped into the village square, head bowed. One old man grabbed his arm and dragged him over to the open grave.
“You must be a gift from the spirits,” the man exclaimed, “To come when you did. My poor brother and his wife, could you say a blessing over my niece’s grave?”
Xiangzhi nodded and smoothed down his yellow and orange robes. When he began to chant, everyone stopped crying to look at him. An Air Nomad monk at the poor girl’s funeral. She just died in her sleep, isn’t that sad?
She’d gone easily. Her pillow pressed down on her face, over her nose and mouth, and she couldn’t even raise the air to scream.
Xiangzhi hid his smile.
The funeral was such a big deal. He always picked the biggest house in town, the one where the daughters were bound to have their own rooms, and he could be alone. It was so easy to get away when he didn’t have to leave footprints. They made it so easy.
And it was so easy to wait in the woods until the wailing started and the grave was dug.
The girl’s spirit squirmed under his hands as he pinned her between them and forced her into her grave, and her mother moaned her daughter’s name again and again. Xiangzhi let the name fall into his mind, satisfied.
avatar_500 prompt #10, Monk.Summary: Xiangzhi loves funerals.
The Name Collector
He always arrived during funerals.
The girl’s family sobbed, and moaned, and carried on, calling out her name to themselves as he stepped into the village square, head bowed. One old man grabbed his arm and dragged him over to the open grave.
“You must be a gift from the spirits,” the man exclaimed, “To come when you did. My poor brother and his wife, could you say a blessing over my niece’s grave?”
Xiangzhi nodded and smoothed down his yellow and orange robes. When he began to chant, everyone stopped crying to look at him. An Air Nomad monk at the poor girl’s funeral. She just died in her sleep, isn’t that sad?
She’d gone easily. Her pillow pressed down on her face, over her nose and mouth, and she couldn’t even raise the air to scream.
Xiangzhi hid his smile.
The funeral was such a big deal. He always picked the biggest house in town, the one where the daughters were bound to have their own rooms, and he could be alone. It was so easy to get away when he didn’t have to leave footprints. They made it so easy.
And it was so easy to wait in the woods until the wailing started and the grave was dug.
The girl’s spirit squirmed under his hands as he pinned her between them and forced her into her grave, and her mother moaned her daughter’s name again and again. Xiangzhi let the name fall into his mind, satisfied.
