Friday, July 24

Those who do not read are no better off than those who cannot.

Short Stories

by Rodrigo Silveira

Once upon a time, in a familiar land not very far at all, there used to be a very wise man. In fact, there was a very wise woman, too, and they were both actually married. Come to think of it, this wise couple was really good friends with another highly wise, sophisticated couple, whose inner-circle was composed of other wise people like themselves.

Time went on; the seasons passed by; the grains of sand made their way steadily to the bottom triangle, never to return again. Now this wise people only seemed to have accumulated more and more wisdom. Their friends, now with new faces, new names, and new ideas, appeared as wise as anybody could be. Their evenings were, so the storyteller relates, spent with laughter, clever jokes, and lots and lots of tea.

One day, however, a certain traveller showed up suddenly, unannounced. He came from a land unknown to the rest of the people. His name was hard to pronounce, and his words hard to understand. This unnoticed traveller quickly noticed how foolish he was. The locals had such a practicle and curious way of seeing things. Everything the traveller did was done in the least effective way possible...

Information, the traveller noticed, was a valuable tool. One to be handled with care... The less information one shares, the more power he retained; the more information you collected, the more power you consumed. Under a fruitful apple tree sat the traveller, who often thought to himself such mysteries as, "What would one need so much power for?"

Upon closer examination of his situation, the traveller noticed that his ever-learning, wise critiques had funny feet. Their toes came out of the back of their feet. Their shoes, instead of Nike, was made by companies like Ekin, Onuzim, Amup, Alif, Scisa, and Iccug. How peculiar...

Under that apple tree he further realized that these people constantly told him how to gain large amounts of gold coins, though they all seemed to always be in need of the money themselves. They taught him the true way of fashion, though they always wore the silliest of clothes. They mocked him because of the way he spoke, though none of them mastered their own language. They persecuted him because of his believes, though they walked contrary to their own faith.

Near the end of his life, many years after his arrival, the traveller took a good look in the glass and realized he had become a wise man. His friends had been a great influence and a good support system for him. They'd educated him in all that he needed to know in order to lead a successful life, which now seemed to be drawing near its end.

The traveller then closed his eyes tightly, put his head down in shame and shook it from side to side with some degree of vigor, and emptied his lungs at once, in an instant. He then took a good look at his image on the wall, squinted his brown eyes slowly, turned his back against the city that had fathered for so long, and never looked back. Years later, during an occasional celebration at the town where the wise lived, a young girl mentioned the traveller, enquiring if anyone knew of his whereabouts. To her surprise, nobody remembered who he was.

-The End


  1. You write quite well. How long does it take you to come up with and write your posts?

  2. Teinqui-u. Ai duu ritde mutchee goo iez.

    Nah, writing is fun. This piece I wrote last Sunday while Luci and Mom talked about their girl stuff - meaning some 10 minutes or so... it hasn't been proof-read or rewritten, though... But I do appreciate the positive comments =)

  3. Big thumbs up, Rigo! I like what you have to say.