Tales of Greed & Wishful Thinking

By Kim Ekemar

Eight short stories that has greed and wishful thinking in common ...

The Gift of a Golden Wish; USA/The world, in the 1930s
Wouldn't you too be game if you received the unexpected gift of getting everything you desired? Then again, what if this delightful gift turns out to be a challenge too great to handle? This is a dream about attaining everything imaginable.

The Puppeteer; The World, 2023 – 2028
Making the world a better place may look easy if you are the richest man in history. But even the richest man can be trapped by human greed and become the victim of his own device.

Mad Captain Boccaccio and the Ship in the Desert; The Middle East, in the eighteenth century
Extra! Extra! Rumours of a ship stranded in a desert are flying, and men come from all over the world to confirm their versions of an elusive story. After a telling night of speculation the truth unexpectedly dawns on the participants. This is a satire about how news is handled by the media.

Bargaining Chips; Spain – Papua New Guinea; 1932
What can a man do when he covets something beyond his reach? His last resort is to trade the jewel among his possessions – his wife. A story that exposes the simultaneous bargaining going on in two distinct societies which, despite all, are not that different when it comes to getting what you want.

The Prospects of a Secure Investment; The United States, 1993-1995
Small fry and big fish – it's all a matter of size and confidence in a game where the participants play only for their own advantage. A con man is trapped by his own device, as the victim he wants to set up is in fact manipulating him. When things turn in his favour, he suddenly perceives an opportunity resulting from his previous misfortune – both for riches and revenge.

The Grapes of Greed; France; 1999
A widowed watchmaker reaching his retirement age decides to use his lifetime savings to purchase a vineyard, with the aspiration of becoming a renowned winemaker. Yet he is tempted to reap the fruits of his investment quickly, rather than using his head for some sobering thoughts about why everything is handed to him on a platter.

Greener Grass; Switzerland/Panama, 1992
A Swiss bank clerk decides his safe world is too suffocating for his own good and envisions greener pasture somewhere else. He eventually finds it at the end of the world, but not the way he had imagined. Money isn’t everything, but it’s what a lot of people set their sights on in life. Bank transactions are at the heart of this story.

In the Eyes of Blind Love; Central Asia, more than a thousand years ago
Those in love only see what they want to see, and their hearts obscure the rest. They become the game of their own desire and their passion challenges their reason. A tale out of an ancient Arabian storybook, where the storytelling moves a heart of stone to see that there is more to love than meets the eye.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kim Ekemar
• Release date: Oct 21, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463735930

Kim Ekemar

I've been fortunate with opportunities to travel the world, counting Mexico, France, Sweden and Spain as my home at one time or other. In the past, a good part of my life was dedicated to business ventures: an art gallery, an advertising agency and commodity trading, among others. My travels have taken me to faraway places and amazing situations. I arrived in Mongolia just as the revolution for independence from the USSR started. I have been taken up the Sepik river by crocodile hunters in Papua Guinea. I've climbed Mount Kilimanjaro in Kenya, gone horseback riding to where the Río Magdalena in Colombia begins, crossed the Australian desert, hiked the Inka trail the wrong direction in Peru, and much more. However, the experience with the most impact that I've lived through was to be arbitrarily jailed in a centre for torture in Paraguay during the Stroessner dictatorship, under the absurd accusation of being a terrorist. (More about this in my illustrated non-fiction book in Spanish about the dictator, "El Reino del Terror".) During the past two decades, I've been focused on artistic expressions – painting, photography, design and architecture, but mainly on writing. The sources for the things I'm interested in writing about are the passions of people; places and customs that I've experienced around the world; and stories or situations from life that intrigue me.

Book preview

Tales of Greed

& Wishful Thinking

by

Kim Ekemar

TALES OF GREED & WISHFUL THINKING

Copyright © Kim Ekemar 2010

All rights reserved.

Without the express permission in writing from the author,

no part of this work may be reproduced in any form by printing, by photocopying, or by any electronic or mechanical means. This includes information storage or retrieval systems.

Go to www.kimekemar.com

for more information about permission requests.

Edition: 2001-01

Published by

Bradley & Brougham Publishing House

2010

Contents

The Gift of a Golden Wish; USA/The world, in the 1930s

Wouldn't you too be game if you received the unexpected gift of getting everything you desired? Then again, what if this delightful gift turns out to be a challenge too great to handle? This is a dream about attaining everything imaginable.

The Puppeteer; The World, 2023 – 2028

Making the world a better place may look easy if you are the richest man in history. But even the richest man can be trapped by human greed and become the victim of his own device.

Mad Captain Boccaccio and the Ship in the Desert; The Middle East, in the eighteenth century

Extra! Extra! Rumours of a ship stranded in a desert are flying, and men come from all over the world to confirm their versions of an elusive story. After a telling night of speculation the truth unexpectedly dawns on the participants. This is a satire about how news is handled by the media.

Bargaining Chips; Spain – Papua New Guinea; 1932

What can a man do when he covets something beyond his reach? His last resort is to trade the jewel among his possessions – his wife. A story that exposes the simultaneous bargaining going on in two distinct societies which, despite all, are not that different when it comes to getting what you want.

The Prospects of a Secure Investment; The United States, 1993-1995

Small fry and big fish – it's all a matter of size and confidence in a game where the participants play only for their own advantage. A con man is trapped by his own device, as the victim he wants to set up is in fact manipulating him. When things turn in his favour, he suddenly perceives an opportunity resulting from his previous misfortune – both for riches and revenge.

The Grapes of Greed; France; 1999

A widowed watchmaker reaching his retirement age decides to use his lifetime savings to purchase a vineyard, with the aspiration of becoming a renowned winemaker. Yet he is tempted to reap the fruits of his investment quickly, rather than using his head for some sobering thoughts about why everything is handed to him on a platter.

Greener Grass; Switzerland/Panama, 1992

A Swiss bank clerk decides his safe world is too suffocating for his own good and envisions greener pasture somewhere else. He eventually finds it at the end of the world, but not the way he had imagined. Money isn’t everything, but it’s what a lot of people set their sights on in life. Bank transactions are at the heart of this story.

In the Eyes of Blind Love; Central Asia, more than a thousand years ago

Those in love only see what they want to see, and their hearts obscure the rest. They become the game of their own desire and their passion challenges their reason. A tale out of an ancient Arabian storybook, where the storytelling moves a heart of stone to see that there is more to love than meets the eye.

The Gift of a Golden Wish

With a sigh I sat down by the big magnolia tree with branches leaning out over the gorge. As on so many days before I had come here to rest in its shade and contemplate life's miseries during the worst of the afternoon heat. Beneath me a falcon hunted in circles balancing on the hot ascending winds. Across the gorge the weathered cliffs rose in strange formations with rocks that for the last thousand years had threatened to topple over. The vibrating heat, the circling movements of the falcon and my general weariness made me dozy. Perhaps I shut my eyes for a moment, but only to be abruptly awakened moments later.

It was a rustling sound next to me that took me out of my reverie. I turned towards the source. A man I had never before seen sat down next to me.

‘Who the devil are you?’ I said. ‘This is private property.’

‘You guessed it,’ he smiled. ‘And as for your property, it certainly needs some attention. When did you last paint your house and barns, to begin with?’

‘None of your business. And besides I’ve been working the fields all morning.’

He laughed.

‘Yes, I see that lately you’re so exhausted by your daily work you have to rest here on the afternoons till it gets dark.’

I saw no point in replying to his sarcasm. We remained silent for a while. The falcon floated effortlessly on the warm air.

‘Everything goes against me,’ I said. ‘The harvest, the neighbours, my family . . . if things only once in a while could turn out as I wish them to.’

‘Tell me, what is it that you wish for,’ my companion said.

‘Money, and time for other things beyond the usual toil and chores. To leave this monotony and have a pleasant life with interesting people. To be sought after and successful, I suppose.’

He pondered my words for a while.

‘Well,’ he finally said, ‘it won't cost me anything to give you a hand. What would you say if I give you what you desire and in return only want a promise?’

I must admit I pricked up my ears, although my good upbringing also cautioned me to be apprehensive.

‘Let's hear your proposal,’ I answered him, ‘and let's find out if it's fair enough.’

‘Well, I was thinking perhaps I could give you an ability no one but I have the power to offer. In exchange I want you to promise me to never wish you didn't have this gift.’

That doesn't sound too difficult, I thought, and told him so. ‘So what kind of ability do you want to give me – assuming I accept?’

He lost his gaze in the horizon. ‘I offer you the gift to always get what you desire the moment you wish to have it. Nothing shall ever be denied you. The one thing I demand from you in return is that the moment you wish you did not have this power, that very instant you will repay me with whatever I may want.’

For a long while I thought about his proposal. Beneath us in the gorge the falcon now hovered motionless on the air currents after spotting a suitable prey. I thought I perceived a light greenish shimmer in the afternoon heat; even the deep blue of the sky seemed to fight a losing battle. The crickets creaked incessantly. Silence stayed between us for a long time, how long I am not sure, until I finally replied.

‘For three continuous years I have had a failure of crops. My four children all died before the age of five, and then my wife left me for a travelling salesman. All I own is my farm with its barren fields and bony animals. What have I got to lose if I suddenly can get anything I could possibly want?’

My rhetorical question was lost on my guest in the grass. He kept quiet, waited, spun his web around me with his amused eyes.

‘Well, I accept the trade. Everything I wish to have shall become mine. The price I will pay is that I cannot wish away my gift or I will find myself at your complete disposal.’

‘Everything you wish is yours,’ my companion chuckled, and was gone as sudden as he had come.

*

I remained beneath the green foliage of the huge tree and did not know quite what to believe. The heat was now so intense that even the falcon winging on the hot air in the gorge seemed to have lost interest in his prey. I tired of looking at him and hoped he would return to his nest soon.

As if answering my thought, the falcon dived and caught a rodent in his fearful talons, then sailed away against the light.

I sat in the shade until the worst heat was over and permitted me to return home. At the time it consisted of a few decayed buildings where loneliness was master. The paint had peeled or faded, leaving the wooden planks vulnerable to rain and wind and sun.

Even if I could find the time to paint the houses I would never muster the energy to perform the brush strokes, I thought to myself. I crouched and went in through the doorway for a simple meal and sleep without dreams.

*

The next morning I awoke to a loud knocking on my porch. When I opened the door I found a young man outside. He was tall and thin, had vivacious eyes, and was dressed in an odd costume several sizes too small for him.

I knew why he had come even before he began to explain himself. Every week or so one of these vagabonds arrived to ask for something to eat, be it just a mouldy piece of bread. If it happened to be a travelling salesman I only stared him in the eyes for a brief moment, and then slowly closed the door before his open mouth and disappointed look. After all it had been one of their kind who had convinced my wife he was a better prospect than I.

Well, I reckoned this one to be neither a travelling salesman nor an undertaker so I invited him to step inside. I shared my fairly modest breakfast with him in front of the flames of my firewood stove. He wolfed down the food with a ravenous appetite that for a while had me worried there wouldn't be enough for the two of us. With the plates cleaned to the last crumb he leaned back on my creaking rib-backed chair.

‘Many a thanks to one who has so little to offer for breakfast from one who has not had the opportunity to eat one in many a day. Now I must ask you to tell me how I can recompense you.’

‘You don't have to give me anything in return, it is enough for me that people leave my tumbledown house happy and content.’ I studied him while I was talking, and his open face and laughing eyes made me like him.

‘Anyway there is something I want to do for you. When I arrived I noticed that your farm is in great need of being painted beautiful again. If you find me some paint I will gladly pass the brush over the buildings, both once and twice.’

I looked at him astonished, but he insisted and I gave in. When I returned from the fields at noon he was already done with the groundwork. At sundown he had several of the buildings painted with its first layer. I was amazed at the speed he worked.

When I finished to harvest the following afternoon I found him, cap in hand, waiting by the gate. Behind him the wooden buildings glowed in the blazing sunlight. Without a word he smiled at me as he placed the cap on his head, grabbed his threadbare suitcase and left without a wave of farewell. I was so surprised I forgot to wish him a good journey.

I did not sleep well that night. Tossing and turning in my bed I wondered whether my wishful thinking was behind the unexpected arrival of the vagabond. As dawn broke I decided to put the gift to test and go to town.

Said and done. I had a late start but by noon I was walking along the dusty road carrying my old suitcase. Perspiration flowed from my forehead despite the wide-brimmed hat that shadowed my face. I cursed the infernal heat wave, which this summer never seemed to end. Like magic the sun disappeared behind a cloud and it immediately became easier to continue. Yes, walking became easier, but I knew I had started too late to arrive in town before nightfall. If I only had had some mode of transport to get there; now I probably would have to stay overnight in someone's barn.

At the crossroads I could see how my neighbour, who I truly detested for his scorn and gossip when my wife ran off with the travelling salesman, stood next to the opened bonnet of his battered Ford. At the precise moment I came up to him he slammed down the bonnet and noticed my presence. He grinned and greeted me half-heartedly with a wave of his hand.

‘Here he comes walking, all alone, sweating in the dust of the road,’ he said, too maliciously for my liking. ‘You're going into town, I gather, at least judging from the direction you're headed.’

‘You're right,’ I replied since I could not but confirm the obvious, ‘and now I must hurry along before it gets dark.’ I had not slowed down my steps during our exchange.

‘Most likely you won't get there before dark,’ he retorted. ‘If you want to I’ll give you a ride. I'm on my way to town myself and have every intention of getting there before nightfall.’

I hesitated. His offer would of course mean that I would avoid the tiresome journey on foot. On the other hand I would have to pay for it by spending time with a person whose superior ways I was all too familiar with.

Convenience won in the end and I accepted. I would not have to walk and I could always ignore his chatter. We climbed aboard his rickety pickup truck and it started with a jerk.

After an hour of listening to his gibberish I could not stand it any longer. That and the fact that the truck was uncomfortable and badly maintained made me wonder if I would not have been better off walking. His constant sour comments got on my nerves. It would have been a completely different matter if I had been sitting in one of those new, elegant sports cars I had seen in one of the magazines I subscribed to. And, imagine, instead of this despicable man a beautiful woman behind the wheel. Moreover, definitely a younger and more beautiful woman than the one who left me a year ago . . .

Suddenly the truck coughed and jumped forward twice before it came to a complete standstill. My neighbour interrupted his monologue with a chilling curse. We both climbed out of the truck. From under the bonnet black smoke welled up, signalling the engine’s refusal to work another stroke.

Just as I was getting my suitcase out to continue on foot, a rumble could be heard from the direction we had come. A minute later a small two-seater on spoked wheels braked to a halt next