Dead End

I own a small farm of about 22 acres here in North Carolina. It doesn't do much for me, money wise, but it's the life I always dreamed about when I was really young. It's nice land, enough for a 12 acre organic vegetable farm, 34 chickens, some turkey, 8 cows, and 12 goats. I dont kill any of the animals. I think of them all as pets, and good company. The wife left me for a richer man, she said I have the worst life, that I'm not even a person. Shoveling manure during the 110 degree mornings into my rusty old pick-up truck, about a half ton, then working it all into the soil of my vegitable farm, planting new plants every day if some had died or didn't grow properly. Yes, it is all hard work, but it is better then those who compete all their lives for money and high ranking in society. I pity those who have to spend half their life until retirement in an office, dont matter how much money they make, its all a shame. I guess thats just how society has grown, and if you are not one of the "normal" who did good in school and went to good colleges you are nothing more then the gum some little schoolboy dropped on the street. You get trampled by the herd of sheep. But I dont have to worry about being stepped on and spit all over, and asking for money on the street corners of the famous giant apple the overpopulated sheep eat off of. Thats right, I live peacefully on this little farm, and I sell my organic produce all the sheep love but they all still look down on me as a person.

There are times, however, when I get to look down on them. You see, there is this dirt road that leads to my farm, and then keeps going off into the distance where all tourists and business travelers go. It's the road that leads to Raleigh. Well, there is also a dead end across the street from my gravel driveway. It is much like a rest stop, if you ask me, but also a death trap. Sheep trap in my words. At the end of the dead end, there is an open leather suitcase, displaying maybe a million dollars all packed together in the top opening and bottom opening. It glows a little gold light at night, and that is when the most sheep die. It is a call to witnesses that people forget what life is all about, and where ever that suitcase came from, it was put there for a good reason.

The story goes like this-

For 30 years I worked on this farm, bought it when i was 20. Every day, there would be about 10 cars passing by. All on their way to the competition arena 40 miles ahead. And that suitcase would just sit there, open, never touched by the wind. Like it was made of metal. Well, half the cars that passed by saw that suitcase, and they would stop their car. At this time I would sit myself down on the front porch and just watch. Some people would look at me and sometimes ask if it belonged to me. I just replied with, "take it, i reckon it belongs to you." So they would jog happily towards the suitcase. Once they were in 10 feet through the dead end, close to the money, they would just vanish out of existence. Their car would vanish too, shortly after.

As the years passed by, more and more sheep would be sucked into the sheep trap. Cops, of corse, would show up at my home due to the missing people who were last seen in this area. They blamed me for killing them and what-not. So I would just tell the cops, "No..It ain't me, why dont you roam around the dead end over there looking for clues and whatever the government needs to determine the reason for their vanish. I see them every day disappear over there." I then would laugh after they left for the dead end.

"But daddy," says my little son who came to visit me, "Why didn't you ever go for the money?"

"Because," I respond, "I dont look at money as lifes reward, nor do i look at it as a survival requirement, I look at it as green paper that lures people away from knowing what life is really about."

"What is life really about?" He asks.

"Listen to my story, let me finish..mabye you can determine what your life should be about afterwards."

I continue. Before I knew it, there would be dogs and FBI roaming around my property, telling me to come with them for questioning. I told them that if they can get that money right there across the street, I would go with them. So they would all go in a straight line towards the money, and one by one disappear in thin air. Those times are gone now, no government agency would ever come near my place. Only the typical sheep driving by, and sometimes lured away from life by some nonsence green paper everybody seems to love.

Just last year that money had begun gettin on my nerves. It would attract the witnesses, maybe 30 people all gathered together around the dead end. Some scientists in white coats would stand there formulating a strategy believed to work until the others would watch them experiment their formula and vanish. You had some climbing trees and making lots of noise as they swing down on ropes or vines but fail at that too. I also saw people hovering high above the suitcase in a small helicopter, the rich people I assumed, climbing down their ladder directly above the suitcase. Just after they thought they were going to be sucessful in their strategy they would vanish. Some would be impatient and just run towards it, others would stand there for days on end staring at the money. It really pissed off my animals because of their noise, it pissed me off too because my peaceful area had now become noisy and annoying due to that stupid case of money, I couldn't get any sleep when that time came around. It went on like that all last year, until i walked over and put up a sign saying, "No Trespassing." That got the message through that it was owned by someone. And the people that were there, I told them to leave.

There is a powerful message in this story.