Meditation lesson (Five minutes freewrite)

The spot by the door was the worst as the constant draft send shivers up his spine and he could barely feel his frozen feet, but Skinny tried very hard to stop himself from trembling. Even when the Master had his back turned, because once he let go there was no stopping himself and he’d be punished. During his first year there, Skinny had been banished many nights to the small dark cave with nothing but a threadbare blanket to keep him from freezing to death.
He wasn’t the youngest apprentice anymore, but any hopes that he might get to choose a good meditation spot or an easier chore had been dashed when Mop, the newcomer, managed to strike an unexpected friendship with MonkeyFace. After four years at the school, MonkeyFace, who was 14 by now, was on the verge of being accepted as a monk and he considered it within his rights to be as mean as possible to the little ones.
No use complaining to the Master. ‘Acceptance is key to a happy life’, that was one of his favorite teachings and it could be stretched to mean anything. He might even get punished for daring to assume he was somehow better than little Mop.
So Skinny just sat there, on the mat by the door, trying to control his every muscle until the dinner gong. Couldn’t be more than half an hour by his reckoning. He sometimes wondered if meditation hour was set just before the evening meal on purpose, so they would be so relieved it was over they would be happy with those miserable chewy dumplings they got every night.

Like all the other, Skinny had mastered the art of looking around apparently without moving the eyes and he could see MonkeyFace was staring at him, waiting for him to make a mistake.
‘I must not make a move, I must not…’ he kept telling himself.
He was good at learning prayers and discussing parables with the Master, although it was tricky as the old man did not take kindly to having a mere boy challenge long-held beliefs. That, too, was a question of accepting he was too insignificant if compared to all those long-dead ancestors on whose wisdom their faith was built on. There was no point in this hour-long meditation torture, none of the boys were able to focus on anything other than keeping still and spying on each other.
‘Hmm’. Just the softest barely audible throat-clearing was enough for MonkeyFace to get the Master’s attention and make him aware Skinny’s mind was wandering again and his hands were trembling. Not even the Master was going to break the rules by speaking, but his glare was clear - Skinny was going to the cave! Again!
Anger was boiling in his chest, but the boy tried to control himself. MonkeyFace was still staring at him, trying to provoke him into saying something and getting a canning from the Master.
Acceptance - he had to accept MonkeyFace was an asshole and the Master was unfair. Or should he? Every time his mother visited he’d wanted to tell her he didn’t like it here, but he never could muster the courage to disappoint her. She’d always dreamed her boys would have a better life and never want for anything. Maybe the Master was right after all, he had to accept that was not the life he wanted for himself. He’d known it from the first day, but he just prayed he’d get used to it. Acceptance.
There were at least five minutes left till the gong when Skinny rose to his feet, carefully rolled the mat and put it way and nodded a curt farewell to the Master. If he hurried he could get to the village before dark.
For the first time in ages, the meditation ritual was broken.
‘Skinny, get back!’ he heard the Master calling, but he did not turn his head, for that was not his name. He was Riu and he was going to be a goat-herder like his father.

Story written for @mariannewest's freewrite challenge, today's prompt was: muscle! Check out her blog and join our freewrite community.

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Image: Pixabay