Chiman and the small woman

In the village, there was a hill. It was a rather tall hill that overlooked the entire village. And it was only considered a hill because all the mountains called it one.

On top of the hill sat a small wooden chair. And on top of the chair sat a small brownish-pink lady. The small lady had on a maroon dress covered in dust and dirt. She sat cross-legged fitting just right on the chair. And a sour expression was fixed upon her face. He lips we pursed in such a way that the wrinkles that encased her lips seemed to be pursed as well.

For as long as anyone in the village could remember she has sat on that chair, never moving, only watching. Some believed she watched over the village protecting it from evil spirits. Some believed she had sacrificed her normal life for a life of stillness. No one knew the real truth, but many false truths were told.

In the village lived a young boy named Chiman, meaning curious. Every day Chiman would bring the small lady a bowl of rice and a glass of water. He would sit and watch to see if she the lady would eat the food he brought. She never moved while she was in his sight. Every day he would sit for hours until he became hungry and frustrated. Eventually, after he could no longer bare his hunger, he would jump to his feet and stomp away leaving behind the water and rice. And the next day, when he returned, the glass would be empty and not a grain of rice would be left in the bowl.

Chiman could never figure out how she did it until one day he had an idea. He would bring the lady food and pretend to leave and when he was certain she thought he was gone; he would hide in a bush that sat atop of the hill and watch her from afar. This, he thought, would trick her for sure.

The next day he returned to the hill where the lady sat. But instead of talking to her he just sat back and smiled. After a few hours of sitting, he pretended to be hungry and threw a pretend-fit, scampering off towards a bush that he thought was out of the lady’s sight. There he hid and waited for her to eat. He sat another hour. And then another. And then another. And soon it became too dark to see anything but the silhouette of the small lady and her chair. She still did not move.

After a while longer Chiman grew more and more impatient. He stood to his feet and shouted, “I will not move until you eat! Do you hear me? I will not leave!”

And so he waited, and waited, and waited. And eventually, the sun rose, and set, and rose again. And still, she did not eat.

Chiman was enraged at the thought that she was so stubborn. He approached her with the bowl of rice in hand. “Why do you not eat? I am giving you food and you refuse to eat it just because I am watching.”

Then Chiman had another idea. He would eat the rice in front of her to make her jealous so she would have to eat it. He took a bite. The rice was cold but he was so hungry he did not care. So he took another. And another. And soon the entire bowl was gone.

Now he was even madder because she had made him eat the rice instead of her. He was so mad that he threw the bowl to the ground breaking it. And at that moment, the small woman collapsed and fell out of the chair. Chiman rushed over to her, but she was cold as ice and stiff as the chair she sat in.

Chiman thought to himself that he had caused her death. He rushed down the hill into the village and ran to the church where the father stood waiting for those who wanted to confess their sins.

“Forgive me father, for I have sinned.” The father asked him what he had done, and Chiman told him what had happened with the lady that sat in the chair. “Please father, try to understand. If she were not so stubborn she would not have refused to eat!”

The father looked puzzled as if he were searching for the words to say, until finally he said, “I cannot decide who is more at fault. The one who desired to see too much, or the one who refused to see at all.”

via Daily Prompt: Pink

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