There was once a youngling herdsman boy with a dimpled chin and a large wooden staff.
He was well liked in his village, being cute, and diligent, and not too overbearing.
It was only when he turned fifteen that the villagers began to notice there was something about his aura that made them wary of setting too close to him. Now they didn't exactly begin to shoo him away or shun him, but they did keep a safe distance from him, and warned their children against him, in the vein of,"He's got cooties. Stay away from him." The elders watched him carefully as he went about his day herding goats, for they knew much talent often comes with a hidden curse, and they liked the boy for his manly ways and caring heart, but they wanted to be sure he wouldn't bring ruin to their people if they trusted him with power as he came of age.
It was noted that the traveling salesman's young wife had a grapefruit tree whose grapefruit began to shrivel when the boy helped her tend her garden. She let him go in a year or so and got her green thumb back, her garden verdant again, the grapefruit proud and plump.
Then he found love with the fishmonger's daughter more muscular than he. She dallied with him until she realized she had to let him go, his nervous habit of repetitiously unplugging and plugging the hole in her dinghy had left her sphincter so loose she wasn't watertight anymore nor as buoyant as she used to be.
All of the above misfortunes were attributed to the vagaries of youth and discounted heavily when it was settled upon a gift of 4 goats and a sack of grain he could marry the farmer's daughter. The farmer's daughter, not quite fourteen, appealed to the council of elders she be allowed to reside in her mother's house for two years, until she turned sixteen. The wish was granted, and a feast ensued, where there was much singing and dancing and drinking. It was noted by the elders the bride, an otherwise sprightly little girl who liked to sing and dance, didn't exactly participate in the celebration, but sat watching the proceedings from behind the torn curtain of the family tenement.
The night was over, the bonfire had been killed, everyone had gone home, the sun began to rise in the east. The business of living was about to be resumed, and each day following that, it was observed that the girl got wearier, and wearier, and our story weirder, and weirder.
It wasn't until on the eve of her sixteenth birthday, sick and tired of being sick and tired, the girl declared she was now an adult, packed a few things, and left for the city.
She sent home a postcard to tell her family she was well and that the city air had cured her of the uglification spell, and she was now working for good pay as a fashion model. She said she had a place of her own, and a little money in the bank, and that she'd come back for her little sister and brothers as they grew old enough to go to college.
And with that began the emptying of the village far from everything.
~ SDG
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