Monday Rewrite And it came to pass that there was a time when everyone believed in themselves and some things had been lost in the chaotic past. They worked and played and rested and made love, laughed and cried, had families and enemies and friends, and fashioned their own forms of reality. Many good things had prevailed. And so had the wars. Sadly people still found reasons to battle with one another, sometimes using words, at other times bombs and bullets. Ideologies came and went and people thought them worth killing and dying for.
And one day a young man, living near one of the battle zones and short of food, came upon an empty scrap of land. He stole a spade and began digging the ground, looking for lost gold or rotting food. He’d fought many battles of his own, believed in the fighting back then. But not any more. With a broken heart and scars lacing his body his fighting was done. He’d loved and lost too many times.
The sweat was building on his brow and he wasn’t having much luck with his digging when the metal of his spade struck something. It wasn’t a rock or a bit of bombshell or a body, and didn’t have the crunch of anything edible, so he fell on his knees and began scrabbling in the dirt like a dog. Soon his fingers connected with something oblong and smooth. He worked it free. It was a book. An old, mildewed leather-bound book. He smeared away the mud and the damp and flicked it open. Books were rare these days and the feel of the wafer thin pages was strange and mysterious in his fingers. It wasn’t a novel or a textbook, but something more.
And as he read he forgot about his hunger and found another appetite developing within him. He couldn’t put it down. He’d never come across these kind of things before. Hours tripped by, it grew dark and began to rain. The pages flinched as the heavy drops spattered them. He looked up. Night had fallen. The sound of shelling echoed in the distance. He grabbed the spade and made for his shelter, a shack in the woods a few miles away. He’d get no sleep now. Not tonight. He needed to finish the book, and then he needed to do something about it.
The Kingdom is like a treasure hidden in a field…
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