Sleeps The Bear

The Volcano slept high above the village, dormant and unworshipped.  A single cloud stuck on the peak like a skirt snagged on a fence-nail.  It pulled free but another formed soon after, and so on.

Once, while furious, the Volcano had leveled the village with ash, mud and lava.  The people had known of the danger but had nowhere else to live.  Or so they believed at the time.  those who survived the eruption seemed to have suddenly opened themselves up to other areas of habitation.

But that was a long, long time ago.  In its retirement, the Volcano had become somewhat of a sleeping bear, soft and welcoming.  The village was rebuilt at some point and grew quickly as the surrounding region filled in.  Houses tucked neatly at the base of the mountain and many stretched right up the slope in maddening gall.  A powerful man from the village put his home high up the Volcano than all others.  He hired workers to build a fence, like a skirt, that ringed all the way around the cone.  His own house the only gate.

Claiming he owned the top, he charged visitors to climb up past his gate.  And they happily paid for the opportunity, collecting souvenir rocks from the extinct cinder-cone at the apex where, for centuries, there had been sacrifices to appease the mighty fire-god.

All this went on until the bustle of activity awoke the sleeping Volcano.  Seeing the fearlessness of the villagers and the hubris of the powerful man, claiming to own the top of a Volcano, it let out a growl.  the earth shook and captured the attention of all who lived there.  Some left but most, having no experience with disaster and believing the dismissive words of the wealthy man, stayed where they were and even paid to visit the steaming peak and collect a rock in return.

What happened next comes as naturally as day follows night, waking follows sleep.  the powerful man hiked to the top of the volcano and demanded that it cease its roaring and shaking and let him live in peace on his land.  The Volcano took him in as a sacrifice, burning him to bones.  Then the Volcano erupted, sending fiery wind through the village, then mud, then lava and continued until every home was burned down to its base.  To the foothills and well beyond.

When it was over, not a structure was left standing including the fence and gate-house, once so proud.  Anyone still alive would be better off otherwise.  A vulture stood at the lip of the Volcano picking through seared skin to reach the softer flesh of some poor villager who'd paid his fee and died early for his trouble.

Between bites the vulture addressed the Volcano.

"I understand why you killed the powerful man, but why take the innocent ones as well?"  

The Volcano laughed, shuddering the ground a bit and the vulture hopped nervously to the side.

"Powerful, you say?  I have proven the man had no power when I swallowed him whole.  Those people, the ones you call 'innocent'.  They gave him any power he or they might have thought he possessed.  For that mistake and for failing to recognize real power from the childish deeds of a con-man, they all paid the same price he did."

The Volcano slept high above the village, dormant and unworshipped.  A single cloud stuck on the peak like a skirt snagged on a fence-nail.