I self-published this fable in Dec. 2021. By self-published I mean I used cardstock paper, a hole- puncher, and some ribbon to gift a copy to a few friends and family. To keep the posts short and sweet, this short story is presented in parts. You can find Parts 1, 2, 3, and 4, among other writings, musings, etc., here. Enjoy!
The man wept, bitterly, but soon enough, his pride was revived, and he decided he go seek out his favorite prostitute to forget his loss. When he arrived at the prostitute’s tent, the visions of his wife that had plagued him on the way only became stronger. Determined to rid himself of every vision and memory, he stumbled desperately into the tent.
When he did, it was as if a bright light had filled the room. The refuse along with her shame and sadness were all he could see. Underneath the smell of sweet oils, he could smell the foul odor of death. When she made to come toward him, it was as if she were a walking corpse. He screamed and ran. Outside the tent he saw the other lost souls and, again, all were cast in their true light. They hardly looked human. Terrified, he mounted his horse and tore away from the village.
Chased by the horrors he had seen, he rode blindly until he realized he was far into the wilderness. As he slowed his horse, his thoughts returned to the old man and all he had said. His thoughts were broken by the sound of a wild beast. The horse reeled and the man, caught unaware, was thrown from the horse and his leg became twisted. His horse fled. He struggled to move and cried out in pain, but no one could hear his cries in the wilderness.
As he sat motionless, lost in the wilderness, the weight of his transgressions began to descend upon him, and he began to weep. Again, after a time, his pride took hold. He decided he would make a splint and walking stick for himself. He reminded himself that he had worked hard to become successful and he need only employ the same ingenuity that had brought him success.
So, he fashioned a splint and a walking stick from some fallen branches and vines that surrounded him. At length, and with much effort and pain, he was able to stand. To no avail, he looked for the road back to his village, or for anything familiar at all. He looked to the sky, but he could only see the tops of tree branches knitted together. Tempted to lose hope, he felt a strong desire to lay on the ground once more, to succumb to whatever wild animal would eventually attack, but he willed himself to push on and look for a path.
The man wandered in the wilderness for ten days. He foraged for food and drank from the streams when he found them. He slept in caverns and hallowed out trees. His appearance quickly became as wild as his surroundings. On the tenth day, it rained, and he gave thanks for fresh water and for the shelter he had found for that day that kept him warm and dry.
He wandered the wilderness for another ten days, and on the 20th day, he gave thanks for the food that had sustained him for those twenty days.
He wandered the wilderness for another ten days. On the thirtieth day, he realized his leg had healed significantly and the forest was beginning to thin. He could see a road to a village in the distance.
