The Living Canopy

Once there was a great tree whose branches served as a canopy over the village and when it had leaves everyone worshipped its protection.  But it had lost its leaves after a long drought and was thought to be dead, so the villagers cut its branches whenever they needed them until the limbless trunk was left.  The village was naked under the blazing sun and they hated the tree for having died. After they got used to the heat, they forgot about the tree.

There was one villager, though, who never stopped watering the tree everyday.  Even when water was scarce, she shared whatever she had of her own supply. And when the rains came to end the drought, the great tree came back to life and regrew its heavy limbs but they only stretched over her house.  

The other villagers regretted calling her an imbecile for watering the tree when they had given up on it.  And they begged her to make it grow back over the rest of the village. And she told them that when she was a little girl she had a dream about the tree.  Its branches covered the entire sky, all the way to the farthest horizon. The leaves floated on high like clouds. But then the entire tree flattened before her into a surface without depth and revealed its timeless form. And she became a breathless stone beside it. Never did she feel such a bond reverberate between her and the tree. When she woke up, she felt the warm sensation of peace emanating from her stomach.

The villagers scratched their heads because they had never had such a dream nor felt such things but decided to worship the tree anyways, and though their faith wasn’t as strong as the dreamer, it was consistent now. And the great tree slowly forgave them by branching out to cover their village once again.

The Soup Maker’s Broth

Once there was a soup maker who woke up before dawn everyday to make the broth upon which his whole village depended.  Every villager thought he was the best person amongst them because who else wakes up so early everyday to work without a complaint and a smile on his face.  Since they had never seen him in a bad mood, they assumed he clearly held some inner truth that sustained him in his service to them.

That was until they found out what his inner truth really was when a little girl who could not sleep one night wandered over to watch him make the broth and saw him pissing into the pot.  At first, the villagers did not believe her but then they snuck over and saw it for themselves the next day.

Some of them had grown up on his broth and everyone was not only having it daily but raising their kids on the stuff.  And when they confronted him about it, the soup maker argued that some put wine in their broth and others beer, and so he thought he’d do the same but use himself as a filter so that none ever went to waste.  

The villagers detested nothing more than waste and so they punished the girl for making them assume the worst and enjoyed the broth more than ever knowing that their soup maker had made it with the utmost efficiency in mind and spirit and in full dedication to his craft.