Here I'm going to post some short stories, I'll try to get at least a few a month.
Should be fun, and I'll get some practice with my craft.
Should be fun, and I'll get some practice with my craft.
The Parable of Medicine or My Three Sons
Posted 2nd February 2012 at 12:30 AM by Tuddrussell
A long time ago the spirits came to the Chief of a small village, in his dreams they told him that he would die in one year and the village would tear itself apart unless he appoints a new chief.
Once he woke, the Chief summoned his sons to his lodge. He told them that they had one year to prove which of them had the most potent medicine.
The eldest son was a proud warrior, and as such spent the year leading the war party. He claimed many scalps from enemy tribes, and captured near as many women to be his wives. From them he sired many daughters.
The youngest son was a mighty hunter, with his time he amassed a fortune in skins and meat. He also garnered the favour of many of the women among his tribe, and from them sired many sons.
The middle son however was not keen on leading the tribe, as he was a healer. He spent his time among the sick, the weary, and the infirm. He comforted them, tended to them, and kept their spirits high. He took no wife, and sired no children.
When the year was over the three sons received the summons to come to their father's side. The elder and younger brothers ordered the middle brother to carry their trophies, for they knew that he would tend to their father if unburdened.
The three brother's arrived at the Chief's lodge and stood by his side, the Chief looked at his sons and saw that the middle child had many trophies and smiled. With his last breath he named him Chief.
The elder and younger brother were furious, and called for a village meeting to contest their father's final ruling.
The tribe gathered at the small hill in the middle of the village. The elder brother appealed to his warriors, and the younger brother his wives. However, both groups shunned them in favour of the middle brother.
The warriors, every last one of them, were injured during the raids. Some more than others, but each were more thankful to the healer who was there for them than the warrior who valued his own glory more than their wellbeing.
The hunter's wives were fickle, and saw no use for the man once it became apparent he would not be Chief.
The elderly, the sickened, the injured, and all of their loved one's stood united behind the middle son.
Though he slew no enemies of the tribe, took no wives, and held no great fortune. Through the simple act of living for his fellow tribesmen, he showed that the spirits were with him.
Once he woke, the Chief summoned his sons to his lodge. He told them that they had one year to prove which of them had the most potent medicine.
The eldest son was a proud warrior, and as such spent the year leading the war party. He claimed many scalps from enemy tribes, and captured near as many women to be his wives. From them he sired many daughters.
The youngest son was a mighty hunter, with his time he amassed a fortune in skins and meat. He also garnered the favour of many of the women among his tribe, and from them sired many sons.
The middle son however was not keen on leading the tribe, as he was a healer. He spent his time among the sick, the weary, and the infirm. He comforted them, tended to them, and kept their spirits high. He took no wife, and sired no children.
When the year was over the three sons received the summons to come to their father's side. The elder and younger brothers ordered the middle brother to carry their trophies, for they knew that he would tend to their father if unburdened.
The three brother's arrived at the Chief's lodge and stood by his side, the Chief looked at his sons and saw that the middle child had many trophies and smiled. With his last breath he named him Chief.
The elder and younger brother were furious, and called for a village meeting to contest their father's final ruling.
The tribe gathered at the small hill in the middle of the village. The elder brother appealed to his warriors, and the younger brother his wives. However, both groups shunned them in favour of the middle brother.
The warriors, every last one of them, were injured during the raids. Some more than others, but each were more thankful to the healer who was there for them than the warrior who valued his own glory more than their wellbeing.
The hunter's wives were fickle, and saw no use for the man once it became apparent he would not be Chief.
The elderly, the sickened, the injured, and all of their loved one's stood united behind the middle son.
Though he slew no enemies of the tribe, took no wives, and held no great fortune. Through the simple act of living for his fellow tribesmen, he showed that the spirits were with him.
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- The Parable of Medicine or My Three Sons (2nd February 2012)
