Thought Provoking Cartoons and Short Stories
Thought Provoking Cartoons Like This One
Raindrops and Eggs
~
John
Kruse ~
The
stones were dry and hot from the baking sunlight, it had been a long drought,
but now the rain and the melted snow high on the mountain formed a waterfall
cascading over the rocks. Swallows came
to nest on a cliff nearby, building their nests of mud and straw where they
protect their eggs and raise their chicks. To human ears the sound made by The Waterfall
is but rumbling and gurgling. But the
birds would speak to the waterfall and It would speak to them.
Together
they pondered life's Greater meaning, the Purpose of all things, how the lives
of the birds go on from generation to generation. And the waterfall pondered
the question; Am I here because of the water that flows through and downstream
eventually into the ocean. Does running
water Make me who I am or is it the shape of the Rocks that the waters run
across and give me my form, my existence?
Time seemed to flow by quickly for the
waterfall, soon the little swallows grew strong and flew away and so did their
parents. The dry winds came again. The Waterfall wondered would he remember his
little friends when they returned, would he be the same, would the Waterfall
know itself as it knows itself now? With
that thought the waterfall ceased to be, yet in time a raindrop fell and then
another and another. The waterfall was
alive and happy once more, even more so when its feathered friends returned.
The waterfall asked the birds; Am I
the same waterfall each time you return or am I a new waterfall? Do you have a name that you call me? The mother swallow said "we simply call
you Our Waterfall because you are the same each time we return". Time went by and the dry winds came and the
waterfall turned into a trickle, the birds flew away. Soon the waterfall was only dry rocks that lay
on the hillside in dreamless sleep. But then one day a raindrop fell and
another and another and the sound of feathered wings filled the air.
And... Like This
EMMA
~ John Kruse ~
The younger brother was fiddling with papers or
whatever, and did not immediately get out of the car. The older was just that; older, with not much
time left to waste in this life, so with a bouquet of plastic flowers in one
hand and his cane in the other, the old man walked down the path through a
garden of stones. He soon found the
weathered marker with the names of his mother and father. Placing there some of the flowers, then
looking a few spaces over where his little sister was buried. His little sister, her life cut short by that
tragic traffic accident those many years ago, yet it seemed like yesterday. He remembered that phone call informing him
his sister was gone; His pain on that day felt as if someone had poured boiling
water over him! Kneeling there he tried
to just remember the good things about her short life. Getting up on his feet with the help of his
cane, after giving her the rest of the plastic flowers, he thought; what a
small gift for someone who meant so much to his family, but it was all he could
give her now and in this world all she would ever need.
He walked to the edge of the cemetery, it
was on a hillside. As he looked down and
far across the lower landscape where one could see the Atlantic Ocean. He thought of his wife Emma and the trips they
had taken together, she loved the sea and to travel across it to new
adventures. They had gone and seen many
places together, and as he thought of his dear Emma he found himself wishing
they could have gone to see many more.
Although they had no children of their own they were often involved with
youth groups at church and other organizations, and of course spent a lot of
time with his niece and nephews. There
looking out toward the ocean he conjured up the details of his recollections
seeming to only remember the good times.
It was exceedingly hard to remember the bad; the illness and then
missing her so, as her ashes were spread at sea. But how could he miss her? She was always there with him in his thoughts.
As he stood there looking into the distance, the landscape began to blur, after blinking his eyes a couple of times the strangest feeling came over him; confusion, despair, and then it felt as if someone poured cold water over him. No more was there an ocean in the distance, he was no longer standing on a hillside, and the land was flat in front of him. Yet behind him was the garden of weathered stones, the markers standing there with the same names, the same dates just as they had always been. Feeling light-headed, and as if he were about to fall the old man leaned on his cane holding it tight with both hands. His mind spinning, his thoughts confused. He finally realized the ocean was nowhere to be seen, and that he was nowhere near where he thought, no! Where he knew he and his brother had been. And then it finally sank into his mind that they were in the Texas Panhandle. The younger brother, had been brushing dry grass and dust from little sister’s stone, he got up and came over to the older and said “are you OK?” “I was just thinking about my dear wife Emma,” the old man said softly.
On the short ride
home, as he stared out the passenger window at miles of ranch land, the old man
had little to say. Finally the younger
asked; who is Emma? You mumbled
something about Emma at the cemetery. “My
wife” he answered with a raised sharp voice “You’re younger than me; you
shouldn’t be forgetting who people are”!
The younger Brother looked over at him and said in a confused tone “what
do you mean; you’ve been a Bachelor all your life”.
Comments
Post a Comment