The Bucket Boy

There is no great blue beyonder, thought the boy to himself. It is just an idea, or some unattainable hope that life imposed upon him. He wished that life could be what his dreams are made of. Crystal stars would show him the way, while he finds himself walking on these pebble stones...

Perhaps he is not destined for what he hopes to achieve? A life that is worth living and god knows he has been trying! He scoops up another bucket of water only to find, as before, that it is empty when he reaches his home. . .then tries again. This time round his attempt includes a larger bucket, surely it will contain at least some amount of water when he gets back home? And then he has to do so again . . .  and again . . .

His efforts feel like nothing more than wishful thinking . . . what am I doing wrong? He stares at his bucket, it is not withered nor frail. He monitors every journey and accounts for every step as he makes his way home, but still nothing more than a couple of drops.

He already knows nothing or no one else is to blame for the missing water. Yet he still wants to curse the sky from time to time should they somehow be involved. The soles on his feet are also starting to give in from walking up and down which is feeling more and more like walking in circles...

With hardly any strength to carry on, no more shoes to ease his journey and tired of mapping every route possible he decides that this is enough! He has had enough....

So the next day . . . he starts to build a pipeline