Deep in the jungle

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: May 30, 2016

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Submitted: May 30, 2016

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The road was almost empty, with just the faint whirring of insects and birds to be heard, which could be seen to be soaring through God’s sky above. The sun hung at the highest point it would reach that day, its rays penetrating the atmosphere, such that the road, and indeed the area around it, was filled with a delightful light, tickling those who felt it with happiness. The sun also brought about such a heat that, if one were to stand at one end of the road, the other side could hardly be seen because of the way that air seems to blur and vibrate when it’s particularly hot. As the people local to the area would say; ‘Scorchio!’ The only shelter from this intense heat was the shade that the palm trees provided, which shot up upon frequent occasions at each side of the road. If one was to navigate to the middle of the road and look to the West, they would be met with the magnificent view that had continued to amaze travellers that had seldom crossed this road for millennia. The view extended over the coast of the land, capturing elements from all walks of nature; forest, mountains, a river and the sea, whose beautiful, blue waters, remained still and calm, other than when boats occasionally sailed over its glistening surface. The sight was indeed, a true treasure of God’s world.

Oddly however, this treasure seemed less valuable to the one occupant that traversed the road currently. The passer-by was a young boy, whom had become increasingly familiar with the sight that brought delight to so many, on his ventures to and fro his residence just a mile or so ahead. His familiarity had become so prominent in his mind that he had not recognised the blessing that was the spectacle at hand for a long time. It was an example of the strange law that sometimes seems perpetual throughout the entirety of the world; that the more one consumes something, the less they appreciate it. This law can be true for music, toys, clothes and indeed in this case; views. Upon passing the view and all its greatness, the boy considered the idea of this law, and remembered his mother telling him that many other peoples of the world prayed for what he took for granted. With this consideration, the boy stopped to take a glance of the majestic scene, appreciated his blessing, and then retired to his journey. 

 On this day the boy was returning to his home after a morning of games with his friends from the village, however the heat had become so intense that they had been forced to abandon the game at hand and return to their respective dwellings. It was just as well, most residents of the village slept during this time of the day, of this time of the year anyway. He wore a pair of ripped shorts and a dirty t-shirt that he had taken off and tied round his head to protect him from being burnt by the sun’s rays. He had learnt to adopt this method of protection during the summer months. As he walked past and up the steepening hill towards his house, it occurred to him that he had become accustomed to lots of nice things here, which somewhat limited his appreciation of them. The fruit his family grew in the garden had used to be delicious, whereas now the sweet taste of them was disguised by his mouths familiarity. His father had once told him that in other parts of the world they couldn't grow fruit, as it was too cold, and that he should consider himself blessed to be one of the few people in the world with access to these gifts from God. The boy had felt bad and became quiet.

He had understood what both his mother and his father had told him, but it occurred to him that there were some things that he was excluded from as well, that perhaps other inhabitants of God's Earth had access to all year round. He had once mentioned this to his parents and they had replied by asking him; 'why can't you just accept life here?' And then reassuring him that; 'there's some things that you just can't do'. Whilst the boy had understood their previous reactions to his queries, he found himself completely lost with this one. He had been scared to challenge them as he had usually been taught that adults were always in the right and not to be questioned; after all you should be loyal to the people who provide you with food, shelter and love. However this thought made the boy remember another time many years ago where he had been at school, writing a story in class. When the teacher had read it through at the end, he had been amazed; 'wow' he had said 'this is excellent.'

The boy thanked him, and then the teacher had insisted on telling him something. 'Listen, could I tell you something?'

'Of course sir.'

'Well it is this; children really are the real geniuses.'

The boy considered his teacher’s statement, but it rapidly occurred to him that he would not be a child forever. Upon asking this concern, the teacher had replied; 'that is not a problem.'

'How come?'

'Well if you keep your mind young, you will always in truth be a child.'

'How do you keep your mind young?'

'Simple, by pursuing what you love and feeding your mind with your passion… Tell me, what is your passion?'

The boy thought a moment; 'stories' he told.

'Then that is what you must pursue in life, in order to live one that is whole and enjoyable, write stories, read stories, tell stories.' Here the man paused a minute. 'Did you know that all the great story tellers of the world are well travelled people?'

The boy was surprised to hear this, 'no sir.'

'Well they are, because much like explorers they search for new stories, new places, and are constantly feeding their mind’s curiosity.'

‘I want to travel different walks of the world’ agreed the boy.

‘Well if you want to do something, and so long as it is not destructive or evil, then you should do it’ said the teacher.

The teacher was one of the wisest men that the boy had ever met in his life, and it saddened him that he was just a memory from the past now, and that he did not even know the man’s name. Maybe if he had stayed in touch with him, he could invite him to dinner at his house and have him explain his wisdom to his parents. Never mind the boy thought, sometimes God will show you only a glimpse of something because that is all you need. Therefore the boy decided, then and there, that this faint memory was all that he would need. Time to follow my dream and feed my passion he thought, after all, that is what makes the best of us happy.


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