Prose: The Man and His Bottle Of Problems.

A man once carried all the problems of the world. He held them in a bottle hung over his chest by a thin strand of human hair. The bottle weighed him down but he ignored it. Sometimes, he pulled it hoping the hair would break. It never did. His pull made the strand stronger. As he went through life, he felt the bottle weigh him down more and more. It bent him over. People admired his bow; how he carried his bottle of problems, how he didn't bother anyone with it, how he went about life pretending it didn't hang over him. 

One morning, he tried to get out of bed. He couldn't. The bottle was too heavy. He pulled it. He wished the bottle would disappear. It remained closer than ever. 

Days Past. 

For the first time, it occurred to him to open the bottle. To see what it held. He feared what would happen if he did. Now, unable to do anything else, he thought he would give it a try. Perhaps the worst won't be as bad as being trapped to his bed. He opened the bottle. He peeped into it. He saw nothing. 

It perplexed him that there was nothing in the bottle. He held the bottle in his right hand jerking it upside down to see if something would fall out. Nothing. He felt angry. He felt betrayed. He felt lied to. In his anger he tossed the bottle onto the wall. It fell to the ground. He stood up to retrieve the bottle and felt a sensation he hadn't felt in a long time. He felt free and light. He bent backwards to stretch his back. The crackling sound from his spine felt refreshing. He stood straight and stretched his hands. A strand of hair dangled from his left fist. He opened it to see the cork that once held the bottle. He tossed it away. He cavorted in his new found freedom, jumping on his bed and rejoicing. If only he knew that all he needed to do was open the bottle to see what it held, he would have done so earlier. 

The End. 

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Written by P. W. Uduk 
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