The days became weeks, and the weeks became months. The grub grew larger, and larger, and larger, filling first a quarter, then a half, and then 3 quarters of his own chambers. Its appetite had sky-rocketed, and the man worked extra hard every day to plough fields and chopped trees to supply its pet with berries and leaves.
Finally, when his land did not grow enough food at the speed of its feeding, the man stole the lamp, sheep, and horses from his neighbours' yards, for the grub had grown carnivorous. When neighbours grew angry and pounded on his door, the man threatened them with his giant fist, and they could only simmer in resentful retreat. Poor fellows, the neighbours were.
They struggled in the next winters, and many a children fell ill. They decided to revolt against the man. And take back what he took away from them! No longer did they feel kindness or pity upon his indolence, he had offended a heart too many!
~❋❋❋~
Meanwhile, the grub had grown so fat, so humungous, and so ginormous, it rose to the top of the ceiling in the man's mansion. The man had close to little space for sleep, sometimes lying on the being's belly in cramped contortions, or settling with the empty cowshed outside.
But he didn't mind, for he had more than enough food to eat, and more enough gold to make a bed of. His mind had become filled with three things: gold, honey, and more gold.
However, something had changed in the grub. It had grown tired of the flesh of mutton, veal, beef, chicken, and all kinds of steaks. It wanted something else, something unique, something refreshing. It wanted...
Its beady eyes turned to look at the man. Half-asleep, spittle dripped from its rubbery lips. The drool was mixed with honey, now turning a brackish, ochre colour. A strong, cinnamon smell hung in the air. It had fed the man with enough of its slime to bring out the flavour of its own liking.
It must taste delicious now. The grub thought in its nest. Dusk had fallen, 2 hours since its 2nd dinner.
My hard-earned supper. It was time.
~❋❋❋~
YOU ARE READING
Tales from the Woodfolk: A collection of short stories
AdventureA shadow passes between two trees as you hear scurrying across the leaves. A wind blows through a curtain of swaying ivy. Flowers fall as a maiden kisses her lover's cheek, only to disappear in the light of dawn. Have we really listened to the tree...
