*Chapter title is from Desiderata.
The dark water split asunder as the needles of the light pierced it; the beams evoking hope and tranquillity.
His hand flailing in limpid water, reaching strenuously for the surface.
In his head rang the title of his first story, a short story that he wrote during his time in prison.
A Boy and a Wolf
No, this wasn't about the boy who cried wolf.
A long time ago in a faraway village, a boy, an orphan, lived alone inheriting a small plot of land from his deceased parents. That land and a few sheep were everything in his possession.
One day, after tending to his little vegetable garden, he heard villagers complaining about wolf sightings. Bad news, he thought.
Rushing back to his tool shed, he found no supplies to enforce his gates. The wolf would saunter to his sheep like a king to a feast.
He then went to a handful of neighbours who seemed prepared to borrow some tools and planks.
"Not enough for you and us," they said.
