The Farmer's Greed

December 6, 2011
Custom User Avatar
More by this author
The harvest season was rolling around the farmer’s small village. Families were collecting a large variety of crops; consisting of mostly corn and wheat, so bright and vivid under the late autumn sun. The people depended on the crops for food and income, step into the town market and you will find farmers proudly selling whatever sprouted out of his land. The farmer at the end of the road however, was not at the market making gold. His crops failed, and had no way to provide for himself. He sobbed under the great oak tree; his tears fell with the dancing leaves as they fluttered down from the oak in colors of red and orange. The shrub adjacent to him rustled, and a little man wearing a top hat popped out. The farmer jumped, obviously shocked by the little man’s spontaneous entrance.
“What’s a’ matter lad?” the little man said with a soft, Scottish accent.
“It’s my crops my little friend, they have failed” cried the farmer. The little man slipped his hand out of his coat pocket, revealing his green thumb.
“I can help you there” he said, showing the farmer his thumb.
“What good can that do?”
“It can fix your crops, but I will only grow enough so that you can survive.”
“Deal.” The farmer said quickly. The little man touched every dead crop with his little, green, thumb. As he did, they came back to life. One by one, the crops came back. Wheat, corn, and pumpkins all in full bloom. The little man tipped his top hat, and vanished into the brush. The farmer rejoiced, quickly collected the crops, and wheeled them down to the market to be sold. Within three hours, he had sold all he had to sell. As he was returning home with pockets full of gold, he noticed something beautiful. A golden hoe was being sold, but for way more than the farmer could afford. He needed more gold. He wanted it bad. So he bolted back to the tree where he had seen the little man. Again, the little man popped out of the shrub.
“What can I do for ya’ lad?” The little man asked.
“I need more crops my little friend, I need more gold!” the farmer begged.
“What of our deal?” the little man questioned as he gestured to the empty farm.
“Oh please sir!” the farmer begged on his knees “I need more gold!”
“Very well” said the little man with a sigh. He once again placed his green thumb on the soil, creating life with every tap of his thumb. “There you are lad.” Said the little man with a smile. He tipped his hat and vanished into the brush. The farmer laughed with joy as he swiftly collected his crops and ran to the market to make more gold. After selling all he had, he returned to the stall selling the golden hoe. A little man with a top hat appeared behind the stall. The farmer was shocked.
“How can I help you sir?” asked the little man with a soft Scottish accent.
“What are you doing here?” the farmer asked with a confused face.
“What? I’ve been here for twenty five years, almost twenty six; don’t ask what I’m doing here!” laughed the little man.
“But, you’re the little man from the shrub!” yelled the farmer as he pointed at the little man.
“You’ve been spending too much time in the fields lad, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Now are you going to buy something or are you going to make up stories?” asked the little man with a grin. The man slowly took out all of his gold and purchased the golden hoe.
“Thank you sir!” said the little man with a tip of his hat and a big smile. The Farmer cautiously backed away, shrugged, and walked home. He placed his golden hoe by the fire place and decided to have some supper. He opened his wooden cupboard, and his face went blank. He had sold all of his food. He ran to the oak tree hoping to find the little man by the oak tree. He waited for hours, praying the little man would come to him and give him more crops, so that he could eat his supper, and live off his food. The little man never came. The farmer even called to him, but found no answer. The only sounds on that quiet night were the sounds of leaves blowing in the wind and the grumbling of the farmer’s stomach. The farmer’s next idea was to sell the golden hoe, and use the money to buy food. But as he ran inside and picked it up, the hoe turned to dust in his hands. The dust spilled through his hands and onto the floor, where it was then blown away by a gust of wind. With tears in his eyes, he stormed through the town looking for the little man, but he was never found. His stall was gone. Nobody knew who the farmer was talking about when he said a little man with a top hat stole his gold, for the little man gave the farmer everything he needed, the farmer just wanted more.





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback