The Golden Woman

There once was a wealthy woman who loved the finest jewels. Any stone which caught her eye, she was bound to possess, and never did she fail to have what she desired.

She searched far and wide for any stone she could find. Precious all were they to her, and she adorned herself with each new glimmer and spark.

Yet, for all the jewels she owned, it was never enough. She yearned for something else — something more.

One day, the woman’s search led her to a mammoth rock of pure gold nestled in the ground, wider than her head.

Upon first sight, she loved its amber shine in the sun, and knew that it had to be hers.

She attempted to push, pull, and lift, but it would not be moved by her hands. She then departed, returning with shovel and pickaxe.

She began to dig, and dig, and dig, foregoing food and water, to be nourished by the finest prize, if it would only yield to her. But the more she dug, the larger the rock proved to be.

She would not be deterred. But how then to get it out? She at first thought to ask for help, but wanted no one else to know, fearing that someone might take it from her.

Any sensible woman might have let go such a pointless endeavor. Or, sought the aid of another. Sensibility to this woman, was not valuable enough, it seemed.

What madness drove her, shoveling through the night and into the morning. This rock could make her more wealthy than most anyone she knew, dwarfing the riches she already possessed.

One way or another, she believed her life would never be the same — her search would finally be over.

Ever larger the rock turned out to be as the woman dug a moat around it, several feet deep, leaving a ramp to the surface. What a legacy to capture. Even so, it appeared she was no closer to reaching the bottom than she was at the start.

By now, there were bruises on her knees, cuts on her arms, elbows and legs, and blisters on her fingers, and on the palms of her hands. She was exhausted.

But she would not give up. She took her pickaxe, raised it high and struck hard, lodging it inside the rock. When she tugged at it to pull it loose, she lost her footing, thrusting the pickaxe through the middle of her chest as she fell back.

Panicked, she yanked it out and cried aloud, now badly injured with blood pouring from her wound.

She needed help fast, but could not move. Her arms and wrists were withered and fragile from all that careless digging without rest. The strength of her legs soon followed. She attempted to push herself up only to fall down again.

The woman wept as she gazed upon that golden tower, its peak beginning to glow in dawn’s light. A glory she could not capture.

In a short while, her exhaustion took over, and she faded into sleep, never to wake again. Still, that rock remained unchanged, but for the hole where the pickaxe laid.

Little did the woman know, that if she had only let go, an entire cave system was nearby, ripe for the picking of gold ore, even greater than the one she longed for.