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Rated: 13+ · Fiction · Folklore · #2301349
This is my first Fable. It tells the story of a young rabbit who becomes a man.
Once upon a time, there was a rabbit named Tinker. He lived in the forest, in a rabbit hole with his family. One day, Tinker's Mother, Angela, told Tinker that it was time for Tinker to go out and start his own family.
"I'm too scared," said Tinker. "What if the wolf eats me?"
"The wolf will not eat you," said Angela. "That's just an old wives' tale."
"Are you sure?" said Tinker. "I'm really afraid."
"What are you afraid of?" said Angela, gently touching Tinker's hand.
"Getting eaten, for one," said Tinker.
"What else?" said Angela. "What else are you afraid of?"
Tinker hadn't given much thought to his fears. He'd spent so much time just being a kid. The thought of someday being a grownup hadn't crossed his mind. He was too busy having fun goofing around with his siblings, playing games, and eating carrots.
"I guess there could be a famine."
"A famine?"
"Yes. I heard that's what happened to Smitty Badger’s family."
"Are you sure that's what happened to Smitty's family?"
"I'm sure. Smitty was just a good kid. His family moved beyond the Bough, just around the corner from the waterfall. And then it was just a matter of time. Suddenly, all the carrots - the carrots, peaches, pears, celery - they all died out. They couldn't cope. It was the strangest, most painful situation I've ever seen or heard. I saw Smitty. He looked like a celery stalk. His mother was disconsolate!"
"Tinker my boy. Do you even know what disconsolate means."
"Cut off from the consonant?"
"No."
"Look, mom. I can't go out there. I just want to sit here and play."
Angela had two options here. She could either do what she wanted, which was to comfort her beautiful son, console him, tell him everything would be alright, tell him that he could stay with her for the rest of his life if he wanted to. But here, her instincts as a mother conflicted with her maternal duty. She stood her ground.
"Son, you have until tomorrow afternoon to pack your things."
"Tomorrow afternoon? But I haven't finished my studies."
"You've been studying for going on four half-moons. You need to get out of this house and be a grownup. You're not coming back to the hole unless you do."
"I just don't want to die."
"What?"
"I just don't want to die, that's all."
Just then, Robert, Tinker's father walked through the entrance of the hole.
"Hello, everyone," said Robert. "How is everyone doing today?"
"Dad, you can't throw me out," said Tinker.
Robert looked at Tinker for a few moments, slowly turning to face him.
"I'm sorry, Tinker," said Robert, placing his hand on Tinker's shoulder. "I know that you wanted to stay with us, but you're a man now. The rabbit hides within its hole, trying to hide the wolf; but half the time, he spends his soul, his womb is not the root."
"What?"
"It's an expression, son."
"I know, but what does it mean?"
"I can't tell you now, son. You must go now. Just be a man. You will only be alive for so long. It's better to die - I mean live - as a man."
"I can't tell you how much I love you. Really."
"Love me from afar. Your mother and I will be pulling for you. Don't do anything that I wouldn't do. I mean it."
"Dad, can I at least come back to visit?"
"If you can survive on your own, without asking for help, you might be invited back for a visit. Look son, I'm giving you until tomorrow afternoon. Just pack what you can carry and head on out. This is your life. Don't give it up for anybody."
Tinker was incensed. He thought about it for a while, but ultimately, he decided to leave the next day. He didn’t know where he would go or what he would do. What would he do for work? How would he make his life flavorful?
He quickly found shelter in an old rabbit hole that had been abandoned. There was no trace of the previous family, not even a children’s toy, but it was quite large, and it looked like it could resist the storms.
Soon after taking his new home, there was a famine in the surrounding forest and all the crops died. There was fierce competition for the few vestiges remaining of a once great harvest. Tinker lost a lot of weight. He looked like a skeleton. On death’s door, he worried about how he would eat in a world that was so cruel.
His answer came when, one day, while sitting in his apartment, he saw a discarded carrot sitting in the corner. It looked so healthy and bright. He could imagine how good it tasted just by looking at it.
“Do not lie to me now, my brave, beating heart,” said Tinker as he picked it up, confirming that it was a real carrot and not just a hallucination.
He hugged the carrot tightly and then ate the entire thing, chewing like it was a contact sport.
Suddenly, he was overcome with a feeling that he’d never felt before. Welling up within him was an unlimited reservoir of white-hot, furious anger. He was angrier than he’d ever been in his entire life, so angry that he couldn’t stop screaming. The anger turned into a painful cancer that infected his bones and filled him with an anguish that was so great that all he could do was scream and holler.
He was so angry that he ran out of his home, screaming and running through the forest. While traveling, he came across another being. Suddenly, his body began to change. His hand grew long, sharp claws, --almost like a tiger’s--his teeth turned into fangs and his mouth began to foam. Filled with anguish and seeing no way out, he lashed out and took a swipe at the being.
Later, when visiting his family for the first time, he stopped just before his family’s home. There was a funeral procession coming. They were carrying his father! In Tinker’s anger, he’d slashed at his own father with his claws, eventually killing him. His remaining family members saw him standing there, watching. His brother picked up a rock, and so did the others. They threw stones at him, some striking him sure.
Tinker tried to get away, but they cornered him. One rock hit him in the head and killed him. That was the story of Tinker the Rabbit.
© Copyright 2023 John Andrew Jenkins (johnjenkins at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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