Uplifting Tumblr Story About A Selfless Farmer

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mattstaff
Mar 27, 2021 2:00 PM EDT

Someone's cutting onions in here, man. Anyone else get a little misty eyed? This uplifting Tumblr story is worth the effort. An entertaining and heartfelt read. 

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  • 01
    Text - 0178% D02:48 tent-lht6-1.xx.fbcdn.net 2 writing-prompt-s Temples are built for gods. Knowing this a farmer builds a small temple to see what kind of god turns up. sadoeuphemist Arepo built a temple in his field, a humble thing, some stones stacked up to make a cairn, and two days later a god moved in. "Hope you're a harvest god," Arepo said, and set up an altar and burnt two stalks of wheat. "It'd be nice, you know." He looked down at the ash smeared on the stone, the rocks all laid askew
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  • 02
    Text - 0178% 02:48 "I'm of the fallen leaves," it said. "The worms that churn beneath the earth. The boundary of forest and of field. The first hint of frost before the first snow falls. The skin of an apple as it yields beneath your teeth. I'm a god of a dozen different nothings, scraps that lead to rot, momentary glimpses. A change in the air, and then it's gone." The god heaved another sigh. "There's no point in worship in that, not like War, or the Harvest, or the Storm. Save your prayers fo
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  • 03
    Text - 178% 02:49 A year passed, and then another. The temple had layered walls of stones, a roof of woven twigs. Arepo's neighbors chuckled as they passed it. Some of their children left fruit and flowers. And then the Harvest failed, the gods withdrew their bounty. In Arepo's field the wheat sprouted thin and brittle. People wailed and tore their robes, slaughtered lambs and spilled their blood, looked upon the ground with haunted eyes and went to bed hungry. Arepo came and sat by the temple,
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  • 04
    Text - Text - 0179% 02:49 "I could not save them," said the god, its voice a low wail. "I am sorry. I am sorry. I am so so sorry." The leaves fell burning from the trees, a soft slow rain of ash. "I have done nothing! All these years, and I have done nothing for you!" "Shush," Arepo said, tasting his own blood, his vision blurring. He propped himself up against the temple, forehead pressed against the stone in prayer. "Tell me," he mumbled. "Tell me again. What sort of god are you?" "I -" said t
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  • 05
    Text - 0179% 02:49 here?" The god roused from its contemplation. "His name was Arepo," it said, "He was a sower." Sora startled, a little, because she had never before heard the voice of a god. "How can I honor him?" She asked. "Bury him," the god said, "Beneath my altar." "All right," Sora said, and went to fetch her shovel. "Wait," the god said when she got back and began collecting the bones from among the broken twigs and fallen leaves. She laid them out on a roll of undyed wool, the only cl
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  • 06
    Text - 口79% 02:50 Most believed it to empty, as the god who resided there long ago had fallen silent. Yet, any who passed the decaying shrine felt an ache in their hearts, as though mourning for a lost friend. The cold that seeped from the temple entrance laid their spirits low, and warded off any potential visitors, save for the rare and especially oblivious children who would leave tiny clusters of pink and white flowers that they picked from the surrounding meadow. The god sat in his peaceful
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  • 07
    Text - 0179% 02:50 So he painted the sunset with yellow leaves, enticed the worms to dance in their soil, flourished the boundary between forest and field with blossoms and berries, christened the air with a biting cold before winter came, ripened the apples with crisp, red freckles to break under sinking teeth, and a dozen other nothings, in memory of the man who once praised the god's work on his dying breath. "Hello, God of Every Humble Beauty in the World," called a familiar voice. The squin
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