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In a region not far away, surrounded by steep peaks and deep lakes, there was a village of diligent and assiduous people. Their main pride was not the town’s silver streets or the golden roofs of their houses, but a bridge of unimaginable beauty and incalculable industriousness, which stood imposing on the river that ran along the side, greeting all visiting tourists.

The town square, its canteens, houses, libraries and schools all faced the bridge, as if it were a gigantic Imax screen. The villagers did not hide their happiness of having such a wonder, worthy of showing it to the king. And, one day, they invited the king to visit the village.

A few days before the visit, it was raining. And the rain, like a bull running towards the bullfighter, rammed forcefully. The river was growing, pouring more water each second, seemingly endlessly. The onslaught of the water against the bridge was very violent. Would the bridge resist? But eventually, the joints broke off and the planks succumbed.

As the rain passed, only the bases and their columns remained in place. Poor villagers! Seeing the bridge all shattered was like the end of the world. What would they show the king now?

The evening that day was very sad. There were no gatherings in the main square or in the canteens. Libraries and schools closed their doors as there were no cheerful children to occupy them.

When they thought there was nothing much they could do, the village lumberjack arrived. He was coming from his daily tasks, riding on his chestnut horse. His happiness was waiting for him in the village and a destroyed bridge was not going to be an obstacle to get back to her. This man, respected by all, projected a lot of courage, determination and strength.

The lumberjack, feeling the pain of the villagers, told them not to despair and that they would find a solution. Hearing him, the people felt a revitalizing energy, a small light beginning to shine within their hearts, and they followed his instructions.

The mason then went and checked the bases of the bridge; they had not succumbed and were as strong as new. What a good job he had done then! The blacksmith picked up what was left of screws, bolts and nails, and observed that he could still use many of them. The carpenter gathered saved woods and made also new slats, while some of the younger ones were in charge of transporting materials. Young women pledged to have food and water always available. The craftsman dedicated himself to carving the wooden slats, and the older women made pennants and coloured ribbons with material they had stored for special occasions, in addition to keeping the children safe and sound.

At the end of the work, the bridge looked marvellous again, rising imposing to the amazement of all. Better than before! Thick planks, strong joints, firm bases, and even with coloured ribbons! Nothing could knock it down anymore.

The king arrived at the village with his entourage, with exclamations of awe and praise for its inhabitants. His eyes had rarely seen anything like it, the magnificence of the bridge was only comparable to that of his castle, to which “the coloured ribbons would fit very well,” he thought. The king flooded the villagers with gifts and good news. Jubilation and joy returned to the village, and the squares were again filled with children and the canteens with villagers.

Dear friend, this short story illustrates some virtues and good practices that we should apply when dealing with others. Please tell me just one that you have identified.

Your answer – any answer, even if it is a “hello” – is important for me; it will help me know how many people read the articles in order to decide whether or not to continue with this website. Thanks!

Featured and banner picture by Jose I. Arocha

Detail illustration by Jose I. Arocha (from book Sicamor)