literature

raAnan's story

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Literature Text

       In a city long ago there was a small shop. And in this shop there many things. But in a far corner of a shelf, tucked away, there was a roll of string. And for as long as the string could remember it had been there. Every day as the light would come up from the east it would dream of when it would be used. And every night as the sun set in the west it would hope that the next day would be its day of purchase.
       One day the storeowner approached its shelf. The string’s hopes rose as it saw the shopkeeper’s hand reaching upward. But the shopkeeper didn’t reach for the string. It gently moved it aside set something down next to it. It was another ball of string. This ball of string had many colors, and was very pretty to see. It looked like it was string of great worth. The hopes of the plain ball of string began to fade. Thinking to itself that no one would desire such plain string when they could have such a beautiful string instead.
To make things worse the other string began to boast of its beauty each day, mocking the other string for its simplicity and lack of worth. For many days this went on, and for many nights the plain string sat in the darkness, hopeless.
        One day in the cold season, a man came into the store with a bluster. He called the shopkeeper over to himself and inquired if he had any string available. The man said that he needed it for a special occasion and that he was in an immense hurry. The shopkeeper quickly went to the shelf and took down both balls of string to display for the man. The man said “ The plain string will not do, I will take the colored.” So the man purchased the ball of colored string and quickly left the store. As the shopkeeper was returning the plain string to its resting place, a small boy entered the store. “Wait” the boy, said, “I need that string. My father has sent me on a special errand to get such a ball of string.” The ball of string’s heart leapt as he was put into a sack and handed over to the child. The boy paid the shopkeeper and they left the store. In the darkness of the sack and as strange sounds of the city crept in the string once again began to wonder to what purpose it would serve.
        When the colorful string arrived at its destination there seemed to be a commotion going on. There were many festive decorations about. There was happy music floating through out the house. In its heart the string began to be filled with pride. And in its mind it couldn’t stop thinking of the glorious use that it would be put to. Perhaps it would be used to hold a great medal, or maybe used to bind a special book. “If that plain string could see me now, it would be full of awe and jealousy.” the colorful string thought to itself.
        A hand quickly drew the colorful string out of its bag and unwound a short length. It was quickly cut and the rest of the ball was thrown away.  The length was quickly wrapped around a festive package and was put on a small table. Almost instantly after the package was set on the table a small child entered the room, there was much singing and festivity that followed. Small greedy hands plucked the package off the table tore the string and paper away and threw them to the floor. The child then exited the room holding aloft the newfound treasure it had been given. The remainder of the string lay on the floor in the silence of the cold room. Confused and dejected the strings pride vanished. “Discarded like a piece of waste?”  “Not even a half of my beautiful ball was used, now I am among the dust and filth” The once colorful string, began to weep.
        Later that evening a maid came and gathered the string along
with the other remnants of the birthday party and threw them out in the alley along with the other household trash.
       The plain string arrived at its destination about the same time the other string had been used for wrapping the package. The string could here the boy conversing with an older man. The man then drew out the ball of string and looked it over. “This will do” said the man  “You did a good job son” he said as he smiled at the boy. “Now take this into the shop.”
       Later that evening the man entered his shop and began to work. The man took the entire ball of string and set it in a bucket of bleach. After a time the candle maker laid out the entire length of the string and began to mark equal portions. He then cut the string into many pieces. The string became confused at what was going on. It was painful to be cut into so many pieces. After the man had cut the pieces he began to tie them to a long beam so that each piece was hanging down. After the pieces of string had been tied to the beam the man took the beam over to vat of hot liquid and set it over opening on top. The man then began to lower the pieces into the vat. The string cried as the hot wax molded to it. And began to wish it had never left the shop were it was bought. “I never imagined it would be so painful to be used” Said the string. The man then placed the beam on a rack to cool. After the wax had cooled, he then took the beam and repeated the process again. After many times the candles began to take form. And as the string was lowered each time, it became less and less painful as the wax was applied and the string stopped worrying as its strength increased. Soon, the hands of the candle maker had made six beautiful candles. The father called his son into the shop. “Son, I have six candles here and we need seven. I have need of more string. I need one more candle to make our menorah complete. Hurry now and fetch some more string from the store. The sun is setting and we do not have much time.” The boy quickly left his father and went into the city to buy some more string.
       When the candle maker’s son arrived at the store, he found that it was closed. The boy was very disappointed and began to walk back to his father’s shop, wondering what he was going to tell his father. As the boy wove his way through out the alleyways of the city his foot snagged on a piece of garbage. Leaning down to remove the garbage he spied a tangled piece of faded string. The little boy smiled and picked it up to look at it. He eyed it over and then began to untangle the frazzled ball. “This will do” the boy said and the boy then wound the string into a small ball and put it in his pocket and then continued on his way home.
When he arrived at the shop his father inquired about the new ball of string. “ The shop was closed father, but on my way home I found this small piece of string. It is better than nothing” said the boy, and  he handed the string to his father. “Well done”, the father said. And the candle maker took the string back into the shop.
      The once colorful string was amazed that the child had picked him up. “I am good for nothing” said the faded string, “ He will just throw me back to the ground and walk away” The faded string was even more amazed when the child carefully looked him over and began to untangle him. The string almost died when the boy said. “This will do” and put him in his pocket.
      When it arrived at the shop, it was bleached, dipped and prepared as the other string. But the once colorful string did not complain about the struggles it was being put through. It was just happy to be seen fit for any use. In the following day’s both of the strings witnessed the happiness of Hanukkah. And the once colorful string, was used to light the six other candles for each day. On the last day, the father let the son light the center candle. As all of the candles shone brightly and the father called his son over to his chair and began to tell of all the things that God had done for them and their nation. “Father” Said the son. “Can you tell me the again the story of how Jesus found you?” And the Candle maker smiled.  “ Of course son, I love to tell the story” and then He began. “Well… you see son. I used to be a proud man…”
dedicated to :iconraanan: its a little past due... twelve months so. lol.

for everyone else. :D


Take it as you wish, it has meanings on several different levels.
but the beauty of written word, is that it will mean something different to every one.



God guide †


disclaimer:

I am a simpleton writer, and I am sure there are grammatical mistakes everywhere. but... for me the beauty of writing is that the concept is portrayed, and professionalism is sometimes a necessary secondary. so..
P:
© 2007 - 2024 AeternitasveniA
Comments9
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Mizra's avatar
Such a simple alliteration of our lives, but so aptly put. We are pieces of string!

But in that lies the Truth of it.