people. Back then, her father would say, you didn’t have to hunt or forage for food. Everybody had a job to do, and when you did it, you got money for it. All you had to do to make a living was do your job and get your money. With the money, you could trade it for food, shelter, tools, or whatever you needed.
A Ghost of Solitude
As the man’s boots crunched through the twigs and leaves along the mountain path, his thoughts went back to his wife. Her funeral was last Sunday. Breast cancer, and she was only forty-one. God had taken the last thing he truly loved in life. Now he just walked. Morning until night, he walked his empty Earth. Was God really so cruel?
Spring in the Garden of Inequality
“Good morning!” said one flower to another.
“Hi!” said the other flower, a bright yellow dandelion.
“I’m so glad it’s spring again,” said the first flower, a daffodil.
“The winter was so long. Now I can’t wait for the bees to find us,” said the dandelion.
The Tortoise and the Hare, for Writers
Hare was once boasting of his writing speed before the other authors. “I can write 10,000 words a day,” he said, “when I put forth my full productive effort. I challenge anyone here to write books faster than me.”
Tortoise said quietly, “I accept your challenge.”