Moral stories: the forest of the seven

Stories and News No. 794

Killer of Christians.
According to many newspapers that is becoming the main fragment of the news title to spread yet another massacre in the United States.
Needless to imagine what it would have been, if somebody were able to bring up the Islam.
Nevertheless the recurring theme, the lethal greatest common denominator, is always present at the crime scene and every time it comes home undisturbed.
The alleged lawful possession of a weapon...

Once upon a time there was a forest.
It was called the forest of the seven.
Because seven men lived in the woods.
Not one less, not one more.
In the forest where seven men lived, not one less, not one more, running was the only activity.
There was no other hobby.
There were no soccer, rugby and basket balls.
Even no tennis racquets, which might have been useless.
Because there were no balls to hit.
The only things they used to throw out were themselves, at various speeds, but there was none able to definitively surpass the others.
Because each new day they had a different winner.
It’s the tailwind that changes every day, some said.
It’s the headwind that equally changes, others argued.
Or is it just the lucky butt of the lucky one, the more disenchanted replied.
However, one day the onetime winner ended his run just before a cave whose entrance was covered with stones.
The only ones in the woods, completely composed of soft green.
"Who are you?" A voice asked from inside.
"I am one the seven of the forest."
"You are not afraid to go out alone?"
"Not at all."
"You’re wrong," the voice said, which became more and more persuasive. "The forest is safe and quiet as long as the terror does not catch you alone in the woods. And then it's better to have something in your hands. "
"What?"
"A weapon, of course. "
"What is a weapon?"
The voice replied with a laugh that made his blood run cold.
"You don’t know what a weapon is and you go out alone in the woods? Fortunately you have met me. You’re free to take one of my stones, out here. "
"To do what?"
"Simple: to hit your enemy. To defend yourself..."
The man was quite disturbed by the voice and refused the invitation to take a stone, running away as he had come a little earlier.
However, the same night a rock was removed from the pile at the entrance of the cave.
In the following days it was not hard to tell who was among the seven.
At any race he was the one who come last, because of the heavy stone hidden in his pocket.
If this were not enough, night after night, every man decided to take a stone in front of the cave.
Running fast stopped to be the most important thing.
Defend yourself from terror that catches you alone in the woods, this had become the priority.
However, over time magnifying the distressing image of that terror, each one of the seven he was attacked by the same doubt.
Would one only stone have been enough to stop the aggressor?
Thus, in the following days they found themselves never compete with the race, but, to choose who among them were able to hide more stones, taken from the pile that blocked the entrance to the cave.
Exactly one month after the first meeting they had had with the voice in the cave, the winner was declared when he took the last stone, after filling all the space in the pockets and socks, under shirt and shoes, his pants, and even in his underwear, with all the eventual drawbacks.
I won, he screamed, before the other six, forced to applaud.
However, the celebrations did not last long, because a few moments after the last stone had been removed from the entrance of the cave, a huge wolf came to light with drool leaking from the wide open jaws.
"Thank you," the beast said before attempting to calmly eat the seven, unable to escape having become slow as snails because of the stones.
"Choosing to dedicate yourself to the defense from the terror that catches you alone in the woods is the greatest gift you could ever do."
To the monster that you have freed and that will eat you all together

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