Aesop sits motionless at the vineyard’s edge which clings precariously to the bleached hillside. His dark blue eyes are fixed on the nearest gnarled branch. Shallow thoughts, whirling around his head like lazy butterflies, reflect his confusion. Aesop is not a happy man. The great storyteller is unable to create his next fable. He has an extreme case of Allegory Block.
In the nearby field, Aesop notices a young fox. It is cautiously creeping towards the largest of the loaded vines bordering the edge of the plot. Instinctively, the fox knows where the best pickings are to be found.
Aesop watches as the fox makes several fruitless attempts to reach the highest, juicy grapes. With its tail between its legs, the fox turns, steps over a fallen grape and walks off in the direction it came from. As if by magic, the animal disappears as quickly as it had arrived.
Aesop wonders if there is a possible new parable to be constructed about a fox and a grape on a vine which is just out of reach. His mind starts to spin enthusiastically but not fast enough to generate a fable.
The fear of the empty voice tightens its grip on Aesop’s creativity.
Frustrated, he stands up and makes his way back to the village. Tonight will be another evening without a campfire recital. As he traipses past the vine the fox had failed to reach, Aesop notices the fallen grape. Such an easy picking should never be ignored. It’s the sourest grape he’s ever tasted. There is an instant yell of disgust and Aesop empties his mouth with an aggressive spit. The half-chewed grape skids across the dry soil and rolls past a small grasshopper that had only just jumped from one of the leaves where it had been closely observing a young ant.
Filled with exasperation, Aesop lifts his left foot and stamps heavily on the grape and the grasshopper. Angrily, he wipes his foot across the earth and continues his journey home.
It has been an annoying day: a wasted one, lacking a single spark of inspiration. Aesop isn’t too hopeful about tomorrow either. He will take his donkey to the local village market across the river. He has several sacks of salt to sell.
Finalist, Folk-Tale Flash, June 2025.
