Tale #72: Our paths trace out behind us

There was a woman who lived in the woods. Every day after breakfast she went for a walk, carrying a tin of paint. She made a hole in the bottom with a nail and let the paint drip out where she walked. When the paint ran out she would stop, eat her lunch, and then follow the trail back home.

Every day with her paint she traced a new path. And every day her paint ran out before she found a way out of the woods. She wondered somedays whether she just needed a bigger tin, needed to take a longer route.

And other days she wondered if there was any way out at all. That even if she kept walking forever the woods would never end, she would never be free.

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Notes:

1. Written in August 2014
2. And re-written in Jaunary 2016
3. For use in a maze
4. Which was called “A Maze”
5. And existed briefly in Stroud

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Tale #70: The Crow

The crow looked at the corpse beneath its feet and thought about the inevitability of death, and the futility of life.

Still, the crow ate on.

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Notes:

1. Written on September 19th, 2016
2. The last line is a repetition of the last line of Tale #34: The Lonely Heart

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Tale #69: The Swift

The swift is an entirely airborne bird. It feeds on moths and bees. It does not nest, and sleeps as it flies. Its feet never touch the ground.

A swift is born in the sky. Unlike other birds, swifts give birth to live young, and as they fall the wind wakes them. They must take wing before they hit the sea or else they will drown.

Even in death the swift remains aloft. Its dead body floats upon the warming air. Around it, clouds form, and it is as rain that it is returned to earth.

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Notes:

1. Written on July 23rd, 2018

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Tale #68: The Drunken Sailor

There was a sailor who, while drunk, went out to sea, where he lost control of his boat, and he lost control of his bowels.

But the truth of his story was that claiming drunkenness was merely an attempt to lessen his shame.

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Notes:

1. Written on June 26th, 2018

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(Ko-fi contributors probably only get the gratitude I'm afraid, but please get in touch if you want more).

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Tale #67: The Fountain

Over the hills, beyond the sea, there is said to be an island. And on the island there is said to be a spring, the waters of which grant new life, riches unimaginable, and the heart’s greatest desire.

And it is also said those that search for it never find it, those that find it never drink from it, and those that drink from it are never seen again.

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Notes:

1. Written on June 22nd, 2018

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