A Meadow's TaleA Story by LastMonth Rivalries can turn into tragedies, but the way there is littered with happy moments. Does only the destination matter? Or perhaps the path that you take? An elderly man has once said that no matter how painful and harsh life may turn, one mustn't give up hope. And elderly men often give advice worth heeding. For no crime can compare to the vengefulness of a broken heart. ''Do not do upon others what was done upon you.'' But
even the worst of tales begin with a shade of happiness. For where a smile had
once lived, a scowl will find much more hospitable. Our
world is littered with great moments. Many of which go unnoticed. One such
moment came to pass in a large, evergreen forest. Dotted with thick pillars of
green and brown, home it was to many abound. Life,
they say, is the most magical of gifts. And one young soul was about to be
gifted, thrice. Her eyes were weary, damp with concern and fright. For so long
she had to carry this gift with her, guarding it from any slight. She protected
her gift with her ferocity and grit as much as she did with her loveand her wit.
Three
tiny stars were born that evening. Many would howl to the skies, seeking the
blessing of the moon with their fearsome scowls. The forest was not a quiet
place by any means, yet on that day, such a ruckus was made that no deer, hare
or fluttering bird dared intervene. Three
they were. The
first one? He
was a young boy. His body large and his jaws strong, his ears perky and his
muzzle long. A good hunter he will make, or so the elder grandma promised. The
second one was a girl. As so often was the case, she had the most gorgeous
gaze, blue eyed and dazed. Her coat was white, and her smile was bright. A fine
mate to the Alpha male, the grandma would exhale. The
third of the litter was dubbed the youngest. Small
and fragile, with no hope of even being agile. His eyes lacked any sort of
daze, and he quite often looked a little bit phased. Yet one must not
underestimate a gift, for the sands of destiny so often shift. Playful hours turned into long days, which in time formed into productive weeks. What was once inexperienced and raw had materialized into quite theawe. The first
days were marvelous and addicting. The forest hummed with animals and many
greetings. Every humming cricket and every unturned stone, every challenge was
another skill to hone. Hunting was the firstborn's delight. And as weeks turned
into months, he proved to be quite the canine, like blight! Ducklings
and rodents his little chubby form would fear, and their warnings would be so
loud that the whole forest could hear. The
second one would often sit and listen. Wisdom was her calling and that was not
hard to see as the months started unfolding. With her mother she would travel,
drinking her every concern and word. And when they found a new hovel, she knew
not to prod. The
third one was not studious nor was he brave. Rarely too serious and not much
attention he gave. Unfocused and polite, he would sink in his dreams. The pack
was his home, but not his goal, or so it would seem. To the skies he would look
with hope in his eyes, ''Oh thy moon, where does my future lie..?'' And
the months turned to years and the dunes of time had once more geared, for a new generation had appeared. The Firstborn, now the Alpha
of his pack, remained strong while keeping them in check. The
second born, beautiful and wise, would overlook the forest, and to many would
advise. The
third of the pack would remain in the shadows. For after their mother's death,
in his self pity he wallowed. And
a new day came, as they so often do, and a new visitor made his way to the
greenest of hues. Metal and iron, coal and steam, he would build his own home,
tearing into the forest at the seams. In
his search for a better life, he would deem others to strife. And the pack kept
their distance, for troubles with men they had no reliable resistance. His
success would inspire others, and many would come, fleshing the forest,
stripping its hum. And
one day when there could be no more forgiving, the vengeful canines had done
their grieving. To put an end to this they sought, even if it meant to kill. For
even a wolf, could have his fill. A crime committed in vengeance is the worst
of them all, while the body may remain healthy; the soul was no longer whole. Three
wolves, they decided, would fight for the pack. The Alpha, for might and
strength he did not lack. The
Advisor, for her wisdom and her cunning, she would always know what to do, even
if it meant running was due. The
silent wolf, which was third of his litter, for no wolf should remain ever this
bitter. And
as vengeful acts so commonly upend, this could not possibly happily end. The
man whose shack they had invaded had quite the little gift which he fiercely
defended. A young little girl with sparkles in her eyes, after three shots of a
gun, several bodies on the ground would lie. The
firstborn, strong and mighty, thought not to evade. And his undoing would come
without a single advance made. The
second one, knowing fate's elaborate paths, jumped in front of her younger
brother, and with her life she would save him from the gun's wrath. He
ran as fast as he could, with tears on his muzzle, could a wolf even cry? He'd
stare at the skies, puzzled. A crime of vengeance led only to more hate, and
the circle would not end, not unless someone went for a new slate. And
as the days passed and the man had departed this world, the wolf would keep
roaming, hunting the gift that was left in his hold. A young girl, not so young
as before, a little sparkle in her eyes, and plenty of dreams in her core. Hate
is like venom, gathering in one's heart, not until forgiveness is issued, could
it ever depart. When
he finally found her there was something adorning her form. A
little red hood, set squarely on her head, with a little picnic basket, tucked
in her hand. But
you already know how this story is going to end.
© 2016 LastMonthAuthor's Note
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LastMonthTiberias, The Southern Galil, IsraelAboutI like writing, I suppose. English is not my native tongue, I picked it up at school and mostly improved it through computers. In my early 20's and would appreciate thoughtful and impactful review.. more..Writing
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