The Diamond: A Short Story

The Diamond

One time, I told a story. It started on a long journey where I had met a woman. I was a little afraid to walk up to her but I did. She was resilient, and so I walked, and walked, and walked. I swam in the ocean and walked on the streets. Then I walked into the woods and I was introduced to the forest.

The forest was deep and lush. It got deeper as I walked. The nights were dark and I had to make fire, just to know myself. As I sat on a log (it was mossy, that is how I knew my direction). I was approached by a being; He, she, it offered me a stone.

I took the stone and walked some more. Then I had to stop and rest. As I sat on a log by the fire. I dropped the stone. I search for it and when I finally found it, it was broken. I peeled away the layers of rock and found the largest, most beautiful diamond that I had ever seen in my life. So I put it in my pocket, and eventually I made it out of the forest and back into the woods…

 

While I was in the woods, I got lost in a glass maze. I went left and right and even though I could see the exit, I could not find my way out. Then I remembered the diamond. I took it out of my pocket and as I stared at its beauty and size, I realized that it was the balance between life and death.

So I used it like a shovel. I dug and dug and as I cut through the many layers of glass, I realized that the diamond became smaller. As it became smaller, I realized that it shined even brighter. In its smallness, it was grand. When I got out of the maze, I was so glad. I lit a fire and rejoiced. Eventually, I got out of the woods and I ran into a friend…

We sat in the village for a while and we lit a fire. My friend was talking of some business that he had to go on a journey. He told me that I possessed something that was of great importance to him for his journey, and that he needed it to ensure his safety. Aside of my mind and my shoes, I figured that it must be my diamond; my beautiful rock.

And so, after a long talk and a hot fire, I decided that at this time, my friend needed the diamond more than I did. I would have plenty of time for that some other time. And so I offered it to him with the promise of its safe return. And so a year went by; then another, and another. It was two years into a second decade that I saw my friend again. I recognized him at once. Although we were older and we had many stories and shoes to fill, we were the same. And so we lit a fire.

My friend told me that he went on a great journey. He had just returned and came to see me immediately. He told me that even though time seemed not to pass, he ran into the woods. As he walked, he got lost. He slept for a time that he could not keep track of. When he woke up, he realized that he was lost, deep, deep, in the woods.

And so he sat upon a log (it was mossy, so that he knew which way he should walk) and he lit a fire. Then, as he slept, he had a dream. He dreamed that a being; he, she, it, came up to him and asked for a stone. It was a stone that was sacred and passed to those who were lucky to get lost in the forest. He said that he indeed had the stone, but it was not his to give. After a series of unfortunate events, the man woke up and the stone was gone. The fire was out and my friend was still tired. He then slept for a long, long time.

When he woke up enough to realize what had really happened, he searched for the diamond. To his dismay, he found that it was nowhere to be found. He searched the ground, under leaves, and turning up stones. But yet, there was no trace of the stone.

And so we sat in front of the fire on a mossy log. And we exchanged stories. Stories of good times, and times of loss. And just as I was about to get up for the night, a stranger; he, she, it, came up to me. I looked around for my friend but he was no longer in sight. I was lost in the woods, deep in the forest. And then I realized that I was asleep.

When I woke up, I was still tired, and so I slept some more. When I finally awoke, I lit a fire as I sat on the mossy log for that way I knew which direction was north. Just as I started walking, I kicked up a rock and it crashed into a tree. When I checked it out, I realized that it was the rock – the stone – the diamond I had begun the story with.

As I glanced at its simplicity, I realize how small and beautiful it truly was. At that point I was glad that I had the one tool that could cut me out of the glass maze that I had been trapped in for two days more than two decades, so that I could meet my old friend again.

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