Here is the story, my friends. Please by all means comment. I need to get back into writing (I have been neglecting it, let me tell you) and feedback - critical or otherwise - helps me keep going. I don't want to leave words behind in the snowdust of snowboarding on a mountain...
Boy With A Coin
If he'd found it on the street, that
would make sense. If someone had handed it to him from a generous
pocket, the situation would seem much more plausible. But as it was
(or rather, is) the boy seems a bit thoughtless. Careless. Confused.
His name is Benjamin. I tell you this
not because it is important, but because I want you to see him as you
would a friend, acquaintance. Someone who's face and name you know
and care about, if only because he seems to genuine and innocent to
let anything bad happen to him.
Benjamin worked hard. Every day there
was some new job for him to do. In a world where little boys had
nothing to their name, his was the life of a drifter. From shop to
shop he begged for work, scrounging a living. No one begrudged him
this life, though; he worked as hard as any of the grown men. Daily
he earned more than food. He earned respect.
It was on one of his odd jobs that he
tripped on a loose cobblestone and unearthed a large coin. At first
he could hardly believe it. It covered the whole palm of his hand.
It was not a penny or a dime or any
other such worthless piece of metal. No, this was a day and age when
metal in your pocket meant more than any piece of paper crumpled in
your wallet. This coin could have bought a weeks' worth of meals –
in the boy's case, many more than that, as he usually existed upon
bread crusts. He could have done most anything with this treasure.
The world opens to your hand when you
have money. That's the way it works. We all know this.
Maybe the boy knew, and did not
understand.
He crammed it into his pocket and left
it there. His face was aglow but his heart could only stare. True
dreams are not of money (though they may be of wealth); true dreams
are of beautiful things. Of adventure and love and desire and
ambition and achievement of great things. Dreams take us away when
our feet are shackled to the floor.
He walked and walked till he reached
the pier. There the sea breeze lifted the hair from his forehead and
tore some of the stench from his grimy clothes. The world seemed to
open before him. The see filled his vision, the horizon seemed closer
than before, music sprang up in his ears. Without looking at it, he
pulled the coin from his pocket and rubbed it smooth and clean.
He held it up above his head, watching
the last rays of sunlight catch the gold color and turn it
brilliantly orange and yellow.
What was he to do with it?
He tossed it into the sea.
And then he wished.
His eyes were wide open and the sunset
over the ocean reflected brilliantly in them. His fists were
clenched. His heart was throbbing with the idea of his dream being
realized. That was all he needed to do. He turned and walked away.
*
A sailor watched from the edge of his
master's ship. His eyes drew together, then widened, as the scene
played out before him. As soon as the boy's back was turned he ran,
eyes fixed on the tiny ripples in the water where the coin had sunk.
Money was tight, and not only for poor little orphan boys. He leapt
out over the water and at the last second curled his body into a
dive, fingers outstretched for the prize.
Later, the papers reported a drowning.
No one ever knew that it was the sailor's feeble graspings for
treasure had brought him to his death.
*
I cannot tell you what the boy wished
for. Then it will not come true, you know. He never told me (though I
guessed and I am sure that I am right). All I can say is that his
wish does not involve anything that we have mentioned already.
What if he had saved the coin? He
could certainly have made great progress towards his wish. Perhaps
even achieved it wholly.
What if he had shared the coin with
another, and brightened their day? He could have brought joy and
eased someone's hunger, supposedly. He could have even given it to
the sailor and saved that man's reckless life.
But he didn't do those things. Instead
he wished big and he wished wholly. Everything in him wanted this to
come true. And it didn't matter that he was throwing away his
livelihood. He was gaining life. Life such as he wasn't sure he could
get.
But it was worth throwing all away to
wish for it.
Just a boy with a coin. And then a boy
without a coin. And does it all matter? That all depends on whether
you wish you had the coin or not. Or whether you think you know what
he wished for.
Tell me: what one wish is worth wishing with
everything you own? Wishing beyond what you could ever hope to gain?
Tell me, please. Tell me what this
story means.
