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Stone Soup
Jul. 3rd, 2005 12:34 amA soldier returning from the wars passed through a small village. He knocked on the door of the first cottage he came across. "Please, ma'am," he said to the woman who answered the door, "I am very hungry. May I have something to eat?"
"Alas," replied the woman, "but owing to the war, a great famine has come to the land. Everybody in the village is starving. I regret to say that I have no food to give you, and neither does anybody else."
The soldier shrugged off his disappointment. "That's all right," he said. "When we were up at the front, we were often hungry too. We learned to make stone soup, which filled our stomachs and made us strong enough to fight."
"Stone soup?!" replied the woman incredulously.
"Yes, stone soup!" echoed the soldier proudly. "Here, bring your large kettle into the center of the village and I'll show you how it's done!" The woman began to suspect the young soldier had gone mad, but she did as she was asked and brought her largest cauldron out onto the village green.
The young soldier whistled as he drew water for the soup and built a fire under the pot. Some of the villagers came out to watch him. The rumor spread that a crazy man was trying to make soup from a stone, and even more people gathered. None believed it could be done, but they were all curious.
The soldier produced a smooth, ordinary-looking stone the size of cannon shot, kissed it, and dropped it into the pot. It settled to the bottom with a loud thunk. The young man danced around the pot, telling jokes to the villagers and waiting for the water to boil. Eventually it did, and the soldier stirred it with a stick.
A young girl stepped forward. "Will the soup be done soon?" she asked.
"Yes," replied the soldier confidently. "It is almost ready. It just needs a few more things and it will be done." He ladled out a spoonful of the boiling water and tasted it.
"Ah," he proclaimed. "Yes, it tastes quite as it should, and needs just a few more things. What it really needs right now is a bone, for instance. A bone would make it even more delicious."
"I saw an old bone in my mother's cupboard!" shouted the young girl. She ran back to her house, stood on a stool to fetch the dusty old bone, and scampered back to the soldier to present it to the chef.
"That's a perfect bone!" marvelled the soldier, brushing it off. Patting the girl on the head, he dropped the bone into the soup. He stirred his confection for awhile and tasted it again.
"Is it done yet?" asked some more children.
"Almost!" declared the soldier happily. "Are you hungry?"
"Yes, yes!" cried the children. "Can we have a taste?"
"No, it needs a few more things," mused the soldier. "A potato, for instance. And perhaps a few leaves of cabbage. Some old carrots would be nice."
"We have a few potatoes that haven't gone moldy yet!" announced one child. "And I have half a head of cabbage under my bed!" declared another. The soldier beamed as the children ran off to retrieve their treasures, and one by one they were dropped into the soup.
The solder stirred the stone soup a bit more, and a heavenly odor began to rise over the village. It was a smell that none of them had smelled in quite some time -- the smell of real food. Every villager began to salivate.
"Is it done yet?" asked an old man.
"No," replied the soldier gravely. "It needs just one thing more -- one thing from each of you. An end of a sausage....a few onions....a bit of rice....anything you have. If all we give is all we have, we will share in the world's wealth together."
The entire village began to see the light, and one by one they ransacked their cottages for whatever leavings they could find. A pot of chicken broth, some withered zucchini, bits of kale and collard greens, a chunk of salt-pork, a loaf of stale bread -- all went into the pot. And as each item was added to the mix, the delightful odor of the stone soup intensified and became the smell of a heavenly feast.
The soldier tasted the soup once more, and a smile spread across his face. "It's ready!" he announced. A great cry of joy went up, and the villagers lined up with bowls so that the happy soldier could serve them healthy portions of the delicious soup that they had all worked together to build. They had created a feast out of famine -- and a stone!
The soldier filled the bowls of the starving villagers again and again, and though he never partook himself, he never stinted on their portions. Soon even the biggest appetite was sated, and although soup remained in the cauldron, the soldier sampled none of it.
And in time, as the evening became night, the villagers began to complain of stomach pains. The pains grew worse and worse until every villager, from the oldest granddam to the youngest child, convulsed on the ground and blood leaked from their eyes. And then, when the last scream had died out, the village was still.
The soldier produced a large pair of iron tongs from his pack and removed the stone from the pot. He was careful not to let it drip on his hands, for the poisonous concentrate that coated it would not be safe to touch until it had completely dried. The few tastes he had made during cooking had been faked. The soldier placed the stone in a canvas bag and packed it away. Then he set off for the next village.
The soldier, who was really with the other side, removed a large bar of chocolate from his pack and chewed it happily. Another mission accomplished, and another feast conjured out of nothing.
A feast for the crows.
"Alas," replied the woman, "but owing to the war, a great famine has come to the land. Everybody in the village is starving. I regret to say that I have no food to give you, and neither does anybody else."
The soldier shrugged off his disappointment. "That's all right," he said. "When we were up at the front, we were often hungry too. We learned to make stone soup, which filled our stomachs and made us strong enough to fight."
"Stone soup?!" replied the woman incredulously.
"Yes, stone soup!" echoed the soldier proudly. "Here, bring your large kettle into the center of the village and I'll show you how it's done!" The woman began to suspect the young soldier had gone mad, but she did as she was asked and brought her largest cauldron out onto the village green.
The young soldier whistled as he drew water for the soup and built a fire under the pot. Some of the villagers came out to watch him. The rumor spread that a crazy man was trying to make soup from a stone, and even more people gathered. None believed it could be done, but they were all curious.
The soldier produced a smooth, ordinary-looking stone the size of cannon shot, kissed it, and dropped it into the pot. It settled to the bottom with a loud thunk. The young man danced around the pot, telling jokes to the villagers and waiting for the water to boil. Eventually it did, and the soldier stirred it with a stick.
A young girl stepped forward. "Will the soup be done soon?" she asked.
"Yes," replied the soldier confidently. "It is almost ready. It just needs a few more things and it will be done." He ladled out a spoonful of the boiling water and tasted it.
"Ah," he proclaimed. "Yes, it tastes quite as it should, and needs just a few more things. What it really needs right now is a bone, for instance. A bone would make it even more delicious."
"I saw an old bone in my mother's cupboard!" shouted the young girl. She ran back to her house, stood on a stool to fetch the dusty old bone, and scampered back to the soldier to present it to the chef.
"That's a perfect bone!" marvelled the soldier, brushing it off. Patting the girl on the head, he dropped the bone into the soup. He stirred his confection for awhile and tasted it again.
"Is it done yet?" asked some more children.
"Almost!" declared the soldier happily. "Are you hungry?"
"Yes, yes!" cried the children. "Can we have a taste?"
"No, it needs a few more things," mused the soldier. "A potato, for instance. And perhaps a few leaves of cabbage. Some old carrots would be nice."
"We have a few potatoes that haven't gone moldy yet!" announced one child. "And I have half a head of cabbage under my bed!" declared another. The soldier beamed as the children ran off to retrieve their treasures, and one by one they were dropped into the soup.
The solder stirred the stone soup a bit more, and a heavenly odor began to rise over the village. It was a smell that none of them had smelled in quite some time -- the smell of real food. Every villager began to salivate.
"Is it done yet?" asked an old man.
"No," replied the soldier gravely. "It needs just one thing more -- one thing from each of you. An end of a sausage....a few onions....a bit of rice....anything you have. If all we give is all we have, we will share in the world's wealth together."
The entire village began to see the light, and one by one they ransacked their cottages for whatever leavings they could find. A pot of chicken broth, some withered zucchini, bits of kale and collard greens, a chunk of salt-pork, a loaf of stale bread -- all went into the pot. And as each item was added to the mix, the delightful odor of the stone soup intensified and became the smell of a heavenly feast.
The soldier tasted the soup once more, and a smile spread across his face. "It's ready!" he announced. A great cry of joy went up, and the villagers lined up with bowls so that the happy soldier could serve them healthy portions of the delicious soup that they had all worked together to build. They had created a feast out of famine -- and a stone!
The soldier filled the bowls of the starving villagers again and again, and though he never partook himself, he never stinted on their portions. Soon even the biggest appetite was sated, and although soup remained in the cauldron, the soldier sampled none of it.
And in time, as the evening became night, the villagers began to complain of stomach pains. The pains grew worse and worse until every villager, from the oldest granddam to the youngest child, convulsed on the ground and blood leaked from their eyes. And then, when the last scream had died out, the village was still.
The soldier produced a large pair of iron tongs from his pack and removed the stone from the pot. He was careful not to let it drip on his hands, for the poisonous concentrate that coated it would not be safe to touch until it had completely dried. The few tastes he had made during cooking had been faked. The soldier placed the stone in a canvas bag and packed it away. Then he set off for the next village.
The soldier, who was really with the other side, removed a large bar of chocolate from his pack and chewed it happily. Another mission accomplished, and another feast conjured out of nothing.
A feast for the crows.
