Hello folks!
Long time I do not drop some content here in The Ink Well. Fortunately, I got some ideas in the past few days and I wrote a short story from them. I really liked the process as well as the outcome. Hope I can bring some more writings soon to this superb literary community.
Source
On the false accusations about Mr. Sun
I
One of those mornings dawned and, oh, the sheriff jumped at his window. The sky was as gray as his face. There was no blue with the "orange in the middle", as they used to say in the town. The sheriff spread the word and no one was left without seeing what was going on.
Hey, buddy, what about the orange?—asked one man.
Maybe someone put their finger on it—joked another one.
People talked a lot, but nobody knew what was going on or what to do. No one had gone beyond the mountains or seen the sun disappear. What a mess. Since the sky remained like this for a couple of months, the harvest was lost and so were the people.
All the blame was put on the sun that had not came back:
—Blessed Sun, you dried up my fields and my people!
II
However, after a while the little town was good again and began to bubble over as before, with no one to explain it. The Sun was roasting as usual and you could already harvest potatoes after shaking off the sweat without a break.
Everyone laughed at the sun and it winked happily at them. The joy was so great that even new fruits were seen outside, as well as inside the houses. That's why those who left before were barely a memory.
Grandma, what about your sister's life?—asked a farmer while pulling harvest out.
You must have eaten some rotten yucca to make up a sister to me—said a twin sister.
Several weeks of joy passed by, until everything changed again. The colors of the dawn shone by its absence when the people saw their sky clouded one morning. Bugs were falling on the faces and crops of them. Great horror.
These bugs took away what the Sun brought. Those who were left alive saw and complained the next day:
—Blessed Sun, why didn't you burn them out on the road?
III
The sky was refreshing. The land gave birth again to much food and the people huddled it together. Day after day, everything was joy. There were only those who saw this apart. They whispered in the corners that the Sun was no longer good. It was better to look for other suns, because this one had stopped being always good to them.
Soon the little town was divided in two sides: those who wanted to find other suns and those who did not. It was difficult because every harvest was followed by a doubt and every celebration by a fight.
The atmosphere became heated to the point that one noon the nearby grass burned and no one believed what was happening. The fire chewed everything in its path.
Another misfortune!—they lamented as they left the town not knowing if they would be able to return later.
The last one who dodged the flames, carrying a dozen of fruits in his arms, still had strength to claim:
—Blessed Sun, ease your heat that this way not even a single piece of plot will remain!
The force of the disaster threw them into the unknown. Beyond the mountains, they walked in circles. Between one step forward and another one backward, the rescued food lasted less. Their ignorance grew into fear, and this fear matured into fury.
They searched the Sun like a coveted bandit, throwing stones and swearwords at it alike. All the people, in a mob, fought him for his wickedness that had taken away their peace.
But in an sudden everything calmed down. A distant voice warned:
—Don't be foolish. The Sun is not guilty for this. Look at the ground and ask yourselves if in fact there is no food.
The sweet but sure voice approached the crowd and they watched with surprise a young girl of the town who long ago fled among the incidents. She, as radiant as the morning, cleared up:
—If the sun were as bad as you say, we would not be here yet.
Chatter! The Sun burned everything we owned—yelled an angry man quickly.
She answered:
—I came to tell you with enthusiasm what lies beyond the mountains, but I burst into tears when I saw the sheriff and other subjects light up our beloved grass.
More than one of them fell down in amazement. They shook their heads, looked at the sheriff. All in a tense silence.
A dissatisfied woman carrying two of her triplets asked:
—And those bugs that left us without a crop and without children, why didn't the Sun burn them?
The young woman approached the lady and looked her straight in the eyes:
—If the Sun burned as you say, there would never be any harvest or children. Those bugs are transient in one place and in another. Where I live now, they also passed by. They don't come back anymore.
From this, a sentimental hug between both women was born. Soon they turned around to realize how the sheriff and other polysuns fanatics were being thrown out.
Because of her simplicity and security in responding, people continued to question the young lady. Then, someone asked her:
—And that time when the Sun was turned off, when everything went gray early on, what happened?
She arranged her hair after the wind gracefully blew it away and then said:
—The sun never stops shining. We had not gone far away from the grass and so we had not known of a different sky. Everywhere weather changes, but the Sun remains.
Because the young lady talked to them about other places, the people from that little town spread like seeds and germinated endlessly.
