A Land Medium Far Away
By: Mark Starlin
Tags: Short Story, Money, Life Lessons, Poetry, Fiction

There once was a land medium far away.

It was a land of stories.

But not the kind of stories you might think.

The stories were not the kind told by bards and storytellers of old.

Nay, they were mostly tales of opinion, account, and personal revelation.

Some more shocking than any tale shared around a campfire in the dark of night.

The land was ruled by a prosperous, yet benevolent king.

A man who loved current events, persuasive arguments, and controversy.

He had little time for fantasy and witticisms.

Or the flowery language of the poets.

Facts and discourse were his bread and butter.

And he ate heartily of them.

He had special plates made for the topics he enjoyed most.

He surveyed his land, and all seemed well.

As often happens, his paradise was invaded.

Not by the mighty hands of marching troops.

But by the quiet footsteps of poets and artists.

A kinder invasion, but an invasion none the less.

The king tolerated the artistic settlers.

They seemed harmless.

It was easy enough to ignore them.

So he did.

The settlers began to form communities.

Their numbers grew.

Most were happy to have found like-minded souls.

And a place to share their creations with others who appreciated them.

They enjoyed great fellowship.

Two separate peoples were living in the same land.

And, surprisingly, there was peace.

Then the king did an odd thing.

He decided to pay everyone in his kingdom for their work.

There was joy at first.

Folks were thrilled to receive extra money for doing what they usually did.

Surely, this was a king like no other.

Naturally, the king favored the writers who wrote what he liked.

As was his prerogative.

And he showered them with the bulk of his blessings and promotion.

Naturally, this didn’t sit well with the folks who were not favored.

They had dreams of wealth also.

To make matters worse, the payment system was impenetrable

None could understand how it worked

They only knew that a few received the bulk of the bounty.

Some became discouraged.

Quickly forgetting all the other blessings they received in this fair land.

Forgetting their community and friends.

Forgetting the great freedom of storytelling they enjoyed.

They could only see the extra coins others were taking.

They railed publicly against the king.

The king remained in his castle. Silent.

Many left to seek wealth on their own.

Time passed.

Things began to settle down.

The favored storytellers still held the king’s favor and purse strings.

And the less-favored began to accept the will of the king.

Knowing it was likely unchangeable.

Yet still holding out hope.

But the court was not finished.

Ruling is a game of change.

The powers that be decided it was time again for change.

There were countrymen taking advantage of the old system.

Finding ways to receive extra payment without extra work.

This is not how it was intended.

A new payment system would be devised.

The court crafted a new payment system.

One they thought would make things more equitable.

Yet the system seemed to favor the writing of epics.

The work of the concise would find even less reward.

A great cry was heard throughout the land.

The king remained in his castle.

Would he address their concerns?

Would he tire of their complaints and evict them?

Would he abandon this land and move onto his next conquest?

Silence.

An old man in tattered clothing visited the land.

He saw the beauty of it.

He read many wonderful tales.

Ignoring those he had no interest in.

He met scores of talented storytellers.

Soon he learned that the king paid his people for their efforts.

He was surprised such a place existed.

He decided it was a fair land to settle in.

He set up his tent.

Before long, many told him of their woes.

The old man asked them, “How much were you receiving before the new payment system?”

“Only a meager amount,” was the reply.

“And before you settled here?” The old man asked.

“In truth, nothing,” many replied.

“I see before me a fair land. A land of many blessings. A land of freedom and opportunity. An active and supportive community. Yet your focus is on a few coins?” The old man said.

“It is the principal,” some replied. “We are not valued.”

“I will not argue that. But I will sit for a slice of bread and good company in a pleasant valley over standing out in the cold on principal any day,” The old man replied.

“You will not be appreciated here unless you write what the king favors,” the voices chanted.

“Is it different anywhere?” The old man asked.

“Appreciation is more than coins. Although coins are always welcome. I readily admit it. If I choose to write what I love and the king has no interest, I will share it with those who do. Perhaps it will find appreciation there.”

“If I require money, I will labor where I can earn it. Or write what the king desires to read. The choice is set before me. I may choose my own path.”

He sighed and said, “My dearest. I have found a wealth of artistic souls and creative minds in this land. And the tender hearts of many dreamers. Yet dreams are too easily shattered. I, too, have known the pain of broken dreams. It is a common experience among the living, despite what is often said. Therefore it is wise to have more than one dream. Many, if you can. There is less chance they will all be broken.”

“Perhaps it is enough to enjoy the day and the company of others who you appreciate and admire. And especially those you love. To enjoy doing what you love to do for the pure love of doing it. For each day is a blessing. My journey and those who traveled with me are what I remember and hold dear. Far more than any destination or dream. And the coins in my pocket are only meant for spending.”

The old man watched as many walked away, shaking their heads. He finished his tea, then took out an old notebook and began writing.