A long time ago, in a flat, vast land there stood one, giant hill. Atop this hill stood one, lone tree. A great red oak stretching high into the heavens. On a low hanging brach hung a beehive. This beehive was teeming with life. Hundreds of bees flying here and there, working around the clock with one goal in mind. Make more honey. Near the foot of the hill was a grand river. This river stretched as far as the eye could see, and farther, in either direction.
Past the river and beyond the hill stood a lone hut. Constructed of mud and sticks. A modest home to say the least. Inside this hut slept a lone man. Beyond the great river many miles away there was a city full of many people, but this man could not cross the mighty river. So, to him, it seemed he was all alone in the land.
Every morning the man rose with the sun as is shined it's light into every corner. He would watch the colors in the sky as the sun made its accent, and once the spectacular show was over he would begin his trek. In the distance past the hill he could just make out the river. In the soft grass was a faint trail he followed everyday as he began to walk. By the time he reached the hill the sun was at it's halfway mark in the sky. He would pause, and crane his neck to look up,up,up at the hill and the tree, before he continued to the river.
At the river the man filled his pot with water to carry back to his hut. At the beginning the man could only carry a handful of water, but as the days went by he began to grow stronger, giving the ability to carry more and more water. Once his pot was full he rested. He was until he saw a beautiful fish swim by. The fish swam by everyday and he had grown an attachment to it. He had come to know the creature simply as Jal. As Jal disappeared into the distance the man hoisted his water pot and went back the same way he had come. The sun began to set as the man neared his hut. Once again he paused sitting to watch the wonderful colors as the sun vanished beyond the horizon. When the colors dimmed before the stars came out he completed his journey back to the hut.
He took the pot around the the back of the hut where there stood a tree. Not large and grand, reaching into the heavens like the mighty oak, but modest, similar to the man's hut. He had cared for the tree for as long as he had existed. At first the tree only needed a handful of water but as the days stretched on its thirst grew. Everyday the tree waited patiently for the sun to set, the stars to come out, and the man to gently cover it's roots with water. This is how things were. The sun rose, the man traveled, the fish swam, the tree waited. A routine. And the very last thing the man did before he took his long rest was lay on his back, in the plush grass, next to the tree and gaze at the stars. He starred until he felt his eyes begin to droop, then he slowly made his way into the hut.
This is how the man's days stretched on. He felt content with the way things were. Until one day something changed. As he sat by the river, his pot full, he saw Jal swimming up the stream, but to his surprise there was another fish. This fish looked the exact same as Jal, except where Jal was white this other fish was black. The man watched in wonder as the two swam away into the distance. That day as the man walked home he couldn't stop thinking about the pair. He was so preoccupied that he missed the setting sun. The next day the man found the same sight at the river. Two fish. And that was the way things were from then. Two.
He began to wonder why he was alone. The sole man for as long as he had known his pretense. The wonder of this began to consume him and each day he began to notice less and less around him. The actions of his routine were virtually the same but his presence was not. It continued this way until another thing changed. After watching the fish as he neared the hill he heard a new noise. A quiet hum. It became louder until the source of the noise was directly in front of him. A tiny winged creature the man had not seen. It was yellow and black with a fuzzy bottom. The two stared at one another. The man still 'cept his heart beating. The creature still 'cept the flutter of its wings. He did not have a word for this thing.
