A woodcutter was working in the forest. He swung his axe without ceasing, for he was a proud man who did not believe in weariness.
Soon, he had felled every tree within reach until all that was left was The Ancient Giant. Generations of woodcutters had refrained from cutting this colossal tree, which had a girth the size of a moderate tower.
He felt no such qualm. Just as the sun set, the mighty oak fell with an enormous crash.
In its stump sat a curious little man, arms folded in consternation.
“You’ve made your bed,” he said.
Now we lie in it.
When there’s nothing left to cut down, what do we chop?
That sounds ominous!
Just the right note at the end there. Loved it.
Intriguing little fable, strangely engaging.
What a horrid man
Isn’t that the awful truth for us all, though? We reap what we sow. A nice feel of myth and fable here and a great cautionary tale too.
As Lynn said, we reap what we sow.
Uh oh! Sounds dodgy to me. Making bads and laying on them. Great fableing going on here. Well done.
Ohh please forgive the ridiculous typo… bed
*stomps away sulking*
Lol. So it seems trees are alive?
What a great fable. Let’s all complain about the desert we caused.
Like any good fable, I see an appropriately ominous end to a person showing poor moral judgement. Ah, if only the bad guys got their just desserts so predictably in real life.
Oh I like this… Grimm like!
Great fable, I presume you were commenting on the result of the election but, I do know a farmer who removed a copse from the middle of a field that all his predecessors had left alone, and then wondered why his fields flooded every time we got a heavy shower.