It�s the little things that count | Previous Challenge Entry

how it works

TITLE: It�s the little things that count | Previous Challenge Entry
By Maggie Tucker
05/24/06
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He lived in a small village in the middle of the desert; a place so dry that clouds of dust rose from his every footstep. There were no such things as sealed roads or paths; just donkey tracks wending their ways from one home past another, much like a drunken patchwork quilt. The dry dust had long ago destroyed his sense of smell; in fact it had destroyed just about everything of most things. Every day was much the same as another; every building much the same as the next. The only color in his village was that of the desert. It covered and permeated everything. The color of the desert destroyed the beauty & the spirit of his village; the village that had been his home for 83 years. He was used to the sameness of his village. He was used to the predictability of life. He was used to his village and his village was used to him.

And so, on this day, as he walked through the dusty streets to his coffee shop; a daily habit which started 37 years ago, why did the question jump in his mind “What joy will today bring?”. This thought not only surprised him, it shocked him. Why would he even think this? He must be going crazy or maybe he was ill? He knew, like every other villager, that life doesn’t bring joy or happiness or even pleasure. Life is tough; life is what you make of it. He knew also that what often happens is that life makes you what you are; a colorless being, living in a colorless world, waiting for something which you know will never happen but waiting half-expectantly, all the same. So, what made him look over the stone wall as he shuffled to the coffee shop? Whatever the reason, he did and as he did he stopped in his tracks, just staring in unbelief. Was it real? Were his eyes playing tricks on him? Was that really what he was seeing? If so, then he also knew that this was something that hadn’t been seen in his village before. But why. And why now?

The withered tree, that generations of village children had climbed and played in, including himself and his siblings, had for the first time in living history given birth to a single flower; a flower so vibrantly red that its brilliance stood in stark contract to its surroundings. But what surprised him more then seeing the flower was the realization of the total and overwhelming joy in his heart at this new sight. He instantly felt decades younger & wanted to shout from the rooftops to the whole village for them to come & behold this magnificent sight. This day would go down in village history as a special & unique day; the story about the impossible becoming a reality would be retold for generations to come.

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