A story born of a real-life occurrence
I recently purchased a bonsai, and I need a tool set in order to take care of it. Unfortunately bonsai tool sets are very expensive, and my parents flat-out refuse to let me get one. Even though I'd be using my own money to get it. Thus this parable was born. I might expand on this ... let me know if you want this story to continue or not.
Once upon a time, there was a child. She was a bright, curious, inquisitive child, who loved learning about the world around her. One day a storyteller came to town, and he had with him a magical item the child had never seen before. He called it a book. The child was instantly captivated by the stories it would tell, and the knowledge it contained. She begged the old man to teach her how to read, and, after much debating, he agreed to do it for a price. The little girl giggled, for she had received some money for her birthday, and ran to fetch it. On her way she met her mother, who was working in the fields. Her mother asked her what she was doing, and the little girl gleefully told her that the old storyteller would teach her to read once she had fetched her birthday money. Her mother was angry, saying that the little girl should have asked permission before spending her money, but the little girl was so happy, she decided to let her learn. After all, the mother thought, it’s not like that’s all of her money. So the little girl fetched her coins, and the storyteller taught her to read. Bit by bit, she learned how the letters became sounds, and the sounds became words, and the words became stories. She was so delighted when she was finally able to read the storyteller’s book.
After the storyteller had gone on his way, the time came for the family to go to market. The little girl was excited, and bundled all of her money from all of her birthdays (except for the money she had spent on a kitten, and the storyteller’s money of course) in her little kerchief. She climbed into the cart with her mother and brother, and her daddy sat on the horse, and they left for town. Once they had arrived and paid for a night in the tavern, the little girl ran off with her money to see the stalls and booths that the merchants had set up, for she had a secret. The little girl wanted to buy a book just like the storyteller’s. She wandered all over the town, and was almost ready to give up, when she found a tiny, dark cart with a crude sign that read “Knowledje”. She giggled at the misspelled sign, but stopped when she was able to look inside. She gasped in wonder at the many books that lined the walls and floor. Suddenly an old lady swooped out of the shadows.
“What ye be wantin’, missy?” The old woman said.
“J-just a book,” she answered, “one with stories in it.”
“Well, that covers just about every book in here,” the old lady chuckled, “but I think I have just the one you’re looking for.”
The old woman reached deep into the back of the cart, and pulled out a thick brown book with red paint on the cover. The little girl looked at the title.
“What’s an anthology?” the little girl asked.
“Why, it means there’s more than one story in there.” The old woman answered, “more than enough stories for a little girl like you.”
As the little girl was already becoming attached to the book, she asked the old lady how much it was. It cost almost all of her money! She was about to buy it anyway, when she remembered how angry her mother had been when she had spent her money without permission. She told the old lady she’d be back tomorrow once she had talked to her mother.
Once she got back to the tavern, her mom gave her a great big hug and asked if she was hungry. The little girl said yes, and started telling her mom about all of the wonderful things she’d seen. Once she was almost finished, she began talking about the tiny book cart and the mysterious old lady. Her mother got paler and paler as she described the brown book with the red paint, titled Anthology of Children’s Literature. The little girl triumphantly finished with the fact that the book wouldn’t even cost all of her money, although it would cost most of it.
She was utterly surprised by her mother’s outburst. Who did she think she was, talking to dangerous strangers and going into their carts? And that much money for a book! Such an extravagance, far too much to pay. When the tirade finally finished, the little girl was in tears, and the mother was making arrangements for them to leave the next day. Her mother tried to console her.
“After all, dear,” she said, “it’s not like one book is all that important, and we’re finished with the market anyway”.
“But that’s just it,” the little girl whispered to herself after the others had fallen asleep, “that book was.”
"I have been allotted months of futility,
and nights of misery have been assigned to me.
When I lie down I think, ‘How long before I get up?’
The night drags on, and I toss and turn until dawn." Job 7:3-4
Both of my parents are teachers. My body is bound, but my mind is free.
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