The retirement home was filled with stories, but none stranger than that of John-Paul’s. He claimed that was born in a tiny village in the middle of Central Park.
“Maybe your grandfather lived there, but not you” doubted the nurse who was assigned to the old man.
“Take this map, and one day, when I am gone, follow it. It’s there I tell you!” he pleaded.
Sure enough, one chilly October day, she found it. The entire place was covered by moss and branches, but she could see that John-Paul was telling the truth.
This little tale is brought to you by Rochelle Wiseoff-Fields’ Friday Fictioneers. Be sure to check out the other titles using the link below.
Dear SnB,
I will always believe as not from here on out. Well told.
aloha,
Doug
Dear SNB,
He must’ve been a tiny little man. Or did he grow when he left the tiny little village? Cute story.
Shalom,
Rochelle
I have to tell you. I used to volunteer at a local retirement home, and the stories….oh the stories…
Everybody has a story. We should know more… Well done.
This is wonderful. It reminds me of the stories my mother told the last year of her life, not being quite herself any more. No one believed her, but from relatives’ tales I found out that much was based on truth.
Sometimes the most unlikely tales turn out to be true.
Pays to listen to our elders. Nicely done.
A tale from the elder should never be ignored.