There was a little boy who lived in a far away land. Near the the boy's home was a tall mountain, always covered in snow at the top. Also at the top of the mountain, there was an ancient monastery where ancient monks lived.

Sometimes, the little boy, while riding his tricycle around his yard, would look up at the monastery on the tall mountain and wonder what it was like up there.

One day, when the wind was blowing down off the mountain, the air turned quite cold and the little boy could hear a very strange noise on the wind. It was coming from the monastery! He could not figure out what could possibly be making such a strange noise and he was curious.

So, the little boy made a peanut butter sandwich, hopped on his tricycle and started his ride up to the monastery. It took him hours and hours, but he finally made it to the top. He bravely pounded on the massive door to the monastery and the head monk opened the door.

"Hello, Mr. Monk, sir. Down at my home in the valley below, I heard a very strange noise coming from your monastery. Could you tell me what it is?"

"I'm sorry," replied the head monk, "I can't tell you. You aren't a monk."

Sadly, the little boy got back on his tricycle and rode all the way home, in a very foul and frustrated mood. He really did want to know what was making that noise.

The wind did not blow down off the mountain again until a couple years later. The boy was a bit bigger and stronger now and now rode around town on his bicycle.

As luck would have it, he was out riding when the wind blew down off the mountain, the air turned quite cold, and he heard a very strange noise on the wind. It was coming from the monastery! He could not figure out what could possibly be making such a strange noise and he was curious.

So, the bigger boy made a ham and cheese sandwich, hopped on his bicycle and started his ride up to the monastery. It took him hours, but he finally made it to the top. He pounded on the massive door to the monastery and the head monk opened the door.

"Hey, Mr. Monk. Down at my home in the valley below, I heard a very strange noise coming from your monastery. Could you tell me what it is?"

"I'm sorry," replied the head monk, "I can't tell you. You aren't a monk."

Sadly, the big boy got back on his bicycle and rode all the way home, in a very foul and frustrated mood. He really did want to know what was making that noise.

The wind did not blow down off the mountain again until a couple years later. The boy had grown into a strapping youth now and rode around town on his motorcycle.

As luck would have it, he was out riding when the wind blew down off the mountain, the air turned quite cold, and he heard a very strange noise on the wind. It was coming from the monastery! He could not figure out what could possibly be making such a strange noise and he was curious.

So, the strapping youth grabbed a slice of pizza, hopped on his motorcycle and started his ride up to the monastery. It took him 30 minutes, but he finally made it to the top. He pounded on the massive door to the monastery and the head monk opened the door.

"Yo, Mr. Monk, dude. Down at my home in the valley below, I heard a very strange noise coming from your monastery. Could you tell me what it is?"

"I'm sorry," replied the head monk, "I can't tell you. You aren't a monk."

Sadly, the strapping youth got back on his motorcycle and rode all the way home, in a very foul and frustrated mood. He really did want to know what was making that noise.

The wind did not blow down off the mountain again until a couple years later. The boy was now a young man and often rode around in his new convertible sports car.

As luck would have it, he was out riding when the wind blew down off the mountain, the air turned quite cold, and he heard a very strange noise on the wind. It was coming from the monastery! He could not figure out what could possibly be making such a strange noise and he was curious.

So, the young man bought a burger at a fast food place, got in his convertible sports car, and started his ride up to the monastery. It took him 20 minutes, but he finally made it to the top. He pounded on the massive door to the monastery and the head monk opened the door.

"Mr. Monk. Down at my home in the valley below, I heard a very strange noise coming from your monastery. Could you tell me what it is?"

"I'm sorry," replied the head monk, "I can't tell you. You aren't a monk."

Sadly, the young man got back in his convertible sportscar and rode all the way home, in a very foul and frustrated mood. He really did want to know what was making that noise.

That night, he thought and thought about the very strange noise and how he just had to know what caused it. So, he resolved to do something about it the next day.

The next day, he got in his convertible sports scar and raced up the mountain, slammed on his brakes, and skidded to a stop right in front of the massive door to the monastery.

He honked the horn of his convertible sports car until the head monk finally opened the door.

"Alright, Mr. Monk, I want to know what is making that very strange noise coming from you monastery!"

"I'm sorry," replied the head monk, "I can't tell you. You aren't a monk."

"Well, then can I become a monk?"

"Certainly! It's quite easy. You must travel the earth and count the number of blades of grass in every field and the number of grains of sand on every beach. When you return with your answer, then you shall be a monk."

The young man left the monastery and traveled the earth. For many years he counted the blades of grass and grains of sand, until one day he had finally finished. He made his way slowly back to the monastery and found the head monk.

"Oh, Mr. Monk, I have traveled the earth these past years, counting the blades of grass and grains of sand. I finally know that there are 123,123,123,123,123 blades of grass in the fields and 123,123,123,123,123 grains of sand on the beaches. I would like to become a monk."

So the man became a monk. At last, he would now be able to find out the source of that very strange noise coming from the monastery.

"Mr. Monk, what is the noise coming from the monastery?" asked the new monk.

The head monk replied, "Words can't describe the source. You must see it for yourself to truly understand it. This key will show you the answer you seek."

"Take this key to the deepest, darkest corner of the coldest, dampest room in the dirtiest, filthiest cavern under the monastery. There you will find a long corridor. At the end of the corridor is a door and through the door is the thing that makes the noise."

The monk found no easy ways to the door he was searching for. Days, weeks, months passed as he traversed the grounds, constantly facing new terrors as both the encounters and the time began to wear the monk thin.

After years of searching. the new monk had been worn down and was now withered and old. But the withered old monk persevered, and eventually was able to find the deepest, darkest corner of the coldest, dampest room in the dirtiest, filthiest cavern under the monastery, and there was a long corridor. At the end of the corridor was a door. Behind that door would be whatever caused that noise.

Slowly, the withered old monk began to turn the key. Through the massive door he could feel the locks turning, and soon, the door began to swing open. There, the monk saw the source of the noise that had plagued his thoughts for all those years. The revelation lifted an immeasurable weight from his shoulders.

Finally at peace with this knowledge, the monk bid farewell to the monastery and returned home to the few family and friends that remained. They asked him of his experiences, of his health and well being, and finally, about the source of the noise that drove him to all this.

"I'm sorry," replied the old monk, "I cant tell you. You aren't a monk"