The Untold Stories of the Mango Tree, Charlotte Lynne [e book reader pdf .txt] 📗

Once upon a time there was a magical tree. Although it looked very ordinary, it was definitely not. When the days began to grow longer and the shadows shorter, a mango began to grow. Just a single mango. But this was no ordinary mango, and when ripe, it would give the person who ate it their greatest desire.
There was a village nearby, and when the summer breezes began to blow, the thieves would gather near there to search for the tree in hopes of catching the powerful mango. Camping all around the tree and surrounding plains and waiting. Up until now, no human had been able to eat the mango though, for it grew rotten and lost its power the instant it hit the ground. Last year it had fallen in the early hours before sunrise, and the year before that at sundown while the weary thieves were out stealing their scraps of dinner.
This year, the legend of the mango had extended to faraway lands and people from all around. the next morning, the hungry travelers were surprised to find that the tree was high up on a mountain cliff, as if it had grown up overnight. The crazed and power hungry thieves were the first to attack the mountain, not wanting the opportunity to slip through their fingers.
It was getting late, and after an excruciating and frantic climb, the thieves were preparing to make camp and go to sleep. They cooked their last scraps of food and went to bed, empty and disappointed.

The sun rose over a makeshift camp, filled with despair. Just as everyone was rolling up their blankets and preparing to go home empty handed, someone shouted and began pointing at a blurry shape on the horizon. By the time anyone had time to realize what was going on, he took off in the direction he had pointed. Immediately everyone left their belongings and chased after the man, hoping that he had seen the tree somewhere off in that orange sunrise.
As the figure grew closer, they were able to see that it was, in fact, the tree they had all been searcing for. They ran as fact as they could, and did whatever possible to get ahead of others. They finally got close enough to see that it wasn’t just a tree, there was a figure sitting under it. As the first people began to approach the tree, they saw that a man was under the tree, eating the fruit they had all been searching for. It was a homeless traveler, tired and hungry and wearing rags.
They ran at the man, waving angry fists. All at once, they were upon him. Like ravenous beasts, they began beating him, each one trying to get the mango out of his hand. The man collapsed, as he was old and frail, and this had been his first meal in days. They all took a step back, eying each other suspiciously and trying to see who to turn their attack on next. They circled the tree, looking for more fruit. They found none and were about to walk away disappointed, when one particularly greedy thief shouted,
“If we find the man, we can cut him open and get the mango out and share it!” This, of course, was not the man’s plan, but it seemed to convince all the others to pull out their knives and run frantically around, looking for the old man. They found no signs of life. This year’s trip, too, had been in vain. They one by one sat down to rest, with their backs against the wide tree trunk and fell into a deep and disappointed sleep.
The sun had risen over the empty field, revealing a wave of people trudging away from the wide trunk empty-handed. Everyone continued back to their own villages and towns, not noticing that as the sun rose, the tree changed. It shriveled and turned the color of dashed hopes and dreams. The color of sadness and hunger and poverty. The thieves would not look back on this day ,or any other, and grieve for those lost or repent for their crimes, the innocent people they hurt. They would not notice the change until next year, when they came again in search of power. And a mango never grew on that tree again.

Publication Date: 02-21-2012

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