The Rich Man’s Table – Can you solve the puzzle?
A parable by RobertMacsArt (C)
The rich man strolled down the bustling city streets, his polished shoes clicking against the pavement. His sharp eyes scanned the passers-by until they landed on a young man huddled in a corner, his face drawn with hunger. You there! The rich man called out, his voice smooth and persuasive.
Come with me. I’ll take care of you. The young man looked up, surprise flickering in his eyes before cautious hope settled in.
He rose to his feet and followed the rich man to a grand restaurant with golden accents that shimmered under the soft glow of chandeliers. Please, sit! The rich man gestured to a plush chair at his opulent table. The young man hesitated for a moment before sinking into the seat, the cushioning a stark contrast to the hardness of the streets he was accustomed to.
As the waiter approached, the rich man ordered an array of dishes without glancing at the menu, his familiarity with luxury evident in every gesture. The young man watched in awe as the food arrived, each dish more exquisite than the last. Enjoy, the rich man said with a smile, savoring not just the flavors but also the admiration in the young man’s eyes.
This is incredible, the young man murmured between bites, savoring every morsel as if it were a treasure. The rich man nodded, pleased by the young man’s appreciation. It was a rare sight to witness someone so genuinely grateful for a simple meal.
As they ate, the rich man engaged the young man in conversation, learning about his struggles and dreams. The young man spoke with honesty, his words painting a vivid picture of resilience and determination in the face of adversity. Their dinner stretched into hours, filled with laughter and shared stories.
The rich man found himself drawn to the young man’s spirit, a spark that ignited a long, dormant ember within him. The rich man saw that the young man wanted more, so he invited him to be his guest at the Palace of Gold. The young man was told he could stay and eat for as long as he desired.
Overwhelmed by the rich man’s generosity, the young man hesitated before accepting the invitation. The allure of a life beyond his wildest dreams beckoned to him, but a nagging voice of caution whispered in the back of his mind. Are you sure? the young man asked, his eyes wide with disbelief.
The rich man chuckled, a hint of mystery glinting in his gaze. Absolutely sure. You have shown me a side of life I had long forgotten.
Consider it a token of my appreciation. With a grateful nod, the young man agreed, his heart racing with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. He followed the rich man through the city’s labyrinthine streets until they reached the Palace of Gold, its grandeur outshining even the most extravagant tales.
As they entered, the young man felt like an intruder in a world he had only glimpsed in dreams. Every surface gleamed with opulence, from the shimmering chandeliers to the intricate tapestries adorning the walls. You are welcome here, the rich man proclaimed, his voice echoing through the vast halls.
Explore, indulge, and make yourself at home. The young man wandered through the palace in awe, marveling at the treasures that surrounded him. Each room held wonders beyond imagination, each meal more lavish than the last.
Days turned into weeks, and still the young man stayed, reveling in a life he never thought possible. Yet amidst the luxury and abundance, a flicker of doubt lingered in the depths of his soul. The young man was starving, so he ate for forty days and nights without ceasing.
Every meal seemed more extravagant than the last, tempting him to indulge beyond reason. He feasted on delicacies he had never imagined, his hunger insatiable as he tried to fill a void he could not name. The rich man watched with a mixture of amusement as the young man devoured dish after dish.
He saw the hunger in the young man’s eyes, a hunger that went far beyond mere food. It was a hunger for something deeper, something unattainable in the lavish halls of the palace. Despite his best efforts, the young man could not shake the emptiness that gnawed at his insides.
Each bite brought only fleeting satisfaction, leaving him craving more. He ate until his stomach ached, until his senses dulled from excess, but still it was never enough. As the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, the young man’s once vibrant spirit began to dim.
His laughter grew hollow, his eyes losing their sparkle. The richness that had once seemed so alluring now felt suffocating, trapping him in a cycle of consumption and dissatisfaction. The rich man observed this transformation with a laughing heart.
No regret to weigh on his shoulders, no burden to bear. He had offered the young man everything he could desire, but in doing so he had knowingly unleashed a hunger that could never be satisfied. And so the young man continued to eat.
His body bloated with excess, his soul starved for something he could not name. In the gilded halls of the palace of gold he found himself lost in a feast that offered no true nourishment. The young man continued to eat, his once youthful face now gaunt and hollow.
His eyes, once filled with curiosity and wonder, now stared blankly ahead, devoid of life. The rich man watched in silence, his heart with no regret as he realized the extent of the young man’s hunger. As the sun set on another lavish feast, the young man slumped forward, his body limp and lifeless.
The rich man’s servants exchanged uneasy glances, unsure of how to proceed. With a heavy sigh the rich man gave a solemn nod his decision made. Take him away, he ordered, his voice barely above a whisper.
Cast his body into the streets. The servants hesitated for a moment, their eyes filled with pity for the young man who had met such a tragic end. Without a word they gently lifted his lifeless form and carried him out of the opulent dining hall.
The streets outside were dark and deserted, the cool night air stirring the shadows as the servants laid the young man’s body on the cold cobblestones. A lone stray dog howled mournfully in the distance as they turned to leave him there, abandoned to the mercy of the unforgiving city. The rich man stood at the threshold of his grand palace, watching as his servants disappeared into the night.
He had no conscience, a sweet taste in his mouth as he realized the true cost of his extravagance. The young man had paid the ultimate price for a hunger that could never be satisfied. As the heavy doors of the palace closed behind him, shutting out the world beyond, the rich man was left alone with no regrets.
In the silence of the empty halls he knew that he could never truly be satisfied with the memory of the young man who had died at his table. The young man’s family found the body and took him to have him examined. The doctor said he had starved to death at the rich man’s table.
The young man’s mother wept uncontrollably, her cries echoing through the small, cramped room. The doctor stood solemnly, his eyes downcast as he delivered the grim news. The young man’s father clenched his fists in anger, his jaw tight with suppressed emotion.
How could this happen? The father demanded, his voice thick with grief and disbelief. The doctor shook his head, his expression pained. It appears he was not given enough to eat.
His body was too weak to sustain itself. The young man’s younger sister stood silently by the bedside, her face pale and tear-streaked. She reached out a trembling hand to touch her brother’s cold cheek, a sob catching in her throat.
The family huddled together in mourning, their grief a heavy shroud that enveloped them all. The mother clung to her son’s lifeless body, rocking back and forth in a futile attempt to ease her anguish. Outside the streets bustled with activity, oblivious to the tragedy unfolding behind closed doors.
The rich man sat in his lavish dining hall, not caring about the devastation he had caused. As the young man’s family prepared to take his body home for burial, the father turned to the doctor with a steely gaze. We will make sure the world knows what happened here, he vowed, his voice filled with determination.
The doctor nodded in silent agreement, his own heart heavy with sorrow for the young man who had met such a senseless end. Together they carried the young man’s body out into the harsh light of day, ready to confront the truth of his untimely demise. The family of the young man rushed the palace, their grief fueling a fire of rage within them.
They burst through the ornate doors, faces contorted with pain and anger. The rich man sat at his opulent dining table, a look of shock crossing his face as the family descended upon him. Monster, the father roared, grabbing the rich man by his expensive robes and yanking him to his feet.
The mother’s eyes blazed with fury as she pointed an accusing finger at the trembling man before her. You took our son from us, she cried, her voice raw with emotion. You let him starve while you feasted in luxury.
The rich man’s facade of arrogance crumbled in an instant, replaced by a desperate plea for mercy. He fell to his knees, hands clasped together in a feeble attempt to beg for forgiveness. Please, please have mercy, he whimpered, his eyes wide with fear.
I didn’t mean for this to happen. But the family’s grief had turned to righteous indignation, their sorrow transformed into a burning desire for justice. They cast the rich man into the street, his fine clothes torn and dirtied by the fall.
You will pay for what you’ve done, the father declared, his voice ringing out with authority. The mother stood tall beside him, her eyes steely with determination. The rich man scrambled to his feet, a look of desperation crossing his features.
He called out to the onlookers who had gathered, his voice shrill and demanding. Bow down before me, worship me, he shouted, his words laced with panic and madness. But the crowd only stared back in silent condemnation, their faces reflecting disgust and disbelief at the rich man’s audacity.
The family stood united in their quest for justice, unmoved by the rich man’s pleas for mercy.
The Lost Child
by RobertMacsArt
A father with a heart as big as the city he had brought his children to, led his little ones through the bustling streets. Their eyes widened at the towering skyscrapers, the blaring horns of yellow taxis, and the vibrant chaos of the city. We’re here, kiddos.
Isn’t this place something else? Father’s voice carried a hint of excitement as he watched his children marvel at their new surroundings. The children squealed in delight, clinging to their father’s hand as they weaved through the crowded sidewalks. But as they paused to take in the sights, father’s eyes darted around in panic.
Where’s our little darling? Father’s heart skipped a beat as he counted heads and realized one was missing. The sky darkened and heavy raindrops began to fall, chilling the air around them. The once inviting city now felt like a maze of uncertainty as father frantically scanned the crowd for his lost child.
Baby, baby, are you there? Father’s voice cracked with fear as he called out, hoping beyond hope that she was nearby. His other children clung to him, their faces mirroring his concern. The rain poured down harder, soaking them to the bone as they searched for any sign of his child amidst the sea of umbrellas and rushing strangers.
We have to find her before it’s too late, father muttered under his breath, his determination shining through the worry etched on his face. As they pushed through the throngs of people, a glimmer of hope sparked in father’s chest as he caught sight of a familiar pink jacket disappearing around a corner up ahead. Baby! Father’s voice rang out with relief as he sprinted after her, his heart pounding in his chest.
But what awaits them around that corner? The father begins weeping when he realizes his baby is lost and soon it will snow. If they don’t find her soon, all will be lost. He calls all his friends and family to help him search.
Desperately, the family cries, searching for the lost child. The father’s heart clenched in fear, tears streaming down his face as he realized his baby was truly lost. The weight of the situation settled heavy on his shoulders, a sense of impending doom creeping over him.
The sky grew darker and the first flakes of snow began to fall, adding a chilling urgency to their search. Frantic, he reached out to all his friends and family, their voices joining his in a chorus of worry and despair. Together, they combed through the streets, calling out her name, their cries echoing against the city’s walls.
Where are you, baby? Father’s voice cracked with emotion, each call more desperate than the last. His children clung to him, their faces etched with worry as they scanned the faces passing by, hoping for a glimpse of their missing sibling. The city lights flickered on, casting long shadows that seemed to mock their frantic search.
As the snow began to fall thicker, the air growing colder by the minute, father’s resolve hardened. He refused to give up, pushing through the crowds with renewed determination. Every passerby became a potential savior.
Every corner turned held the promise of a reunion. Please, let us find her, father whispered under his breath. His hands clenched into fists as he scanned the sea of strangers before him.
The city became a blur of lights and sounds, each moment stretching into an eternity as they searched for any sign of their lost child. The night wore on, the snow swirling around them in a dance of desperation and hope. Desperately, they cried out her name, their voices blending into a cacophony of fear and longing.
Each passing second felt like an eternity, each unanswered call a stab to their hearts. But will their search yield any results? It’s getting dark and snow is falling everywhere. If the lost child isn’t found, she will perish this night.
The town answers the plea and helps look for the lost child, all calling in the night with flashlights in their hands. The city lights dimmed as darkness descended, the falling snow creating a hushed blanket over the streets. The father’s heart raced with fear, knowing that time was running out for his lost child.
Every passing minute felt like an eternity, each snowflake a cruel reminder of the urgency of their search. The town responded to the father’s desperate cries, a wave of solidarity washing over the streets. People emerged from their homes, joining the search with flashlights in hand, their voices calling out into the night in unison.
Baby, baby, where are you? The collective plea echoed off the buildings, a chorus of hope and determination cutting through the cold air. Neighbors, strangers and friends alike banded together, combing through every alley and street corner in search of the missing child. Their breath misted in the icy air, their footsteps muffled by the fresh snowfall as they scoured every possible hiding place.
The father’s eyes darted from face to face, his hands trembling with a mixture of fear and gratitude for the town’s unwavering support. He knew that without their help, the chances of finding his lost child before it was too late were slim. As they pressed on through the night, their voices rose and fell like a haunting melody, a symphony of hope against the backdrop of the darkened city.
Each flickering flashlight illuminated the snowflakes swirling around them, creating an otherworldly scene of unity in the face of uncertainty. Please let her be safe, father whispered to himself, his words carried away by the biting wind as he continued his desperate search. Will their combined efforts be enough to bring the lost child back to safety before it’s too late? Will you help me find the missing child? Will you search with us this night? All will be lost.
The father is weeping, the father is weeping. The townspeople gathered around the father, their faces etched with concern and determination. They nodded in unison, a silent promise to join the search for the missing child.
We’ll help you find her. We’ll search with you this night. A chorus of voices rose in reassurance, mingling with the father’s desperate pleas.
The father’s shoulders sagged with relief as the weight of their collective support lifted some of the burden from his heart. Together, they formed a determined line, flashlights cutting through the darkness as they set out into the snow-covered streets. The father led the way, his steps heavy with worry, but fueled by hope.
The icy air stung their cheeks, each breath a visible puff of determination as they combed through every shadowed alley and hidden nook. Baby, baby, where are you? Their voices rang out in unison, a symphony of desperation that echoed off the silent buildings. The search continued into the night, each passing moment stretching into eternity.
The father’s tears mixed with the falling snow, his heart aching with fear and longing. Neighbors peered out from behind curtains, their faces pressed against frosted windows as they silently prayed for the safe return of the lost child. The town was alive with whispered promises and fervent hopes, a community united in the face of adversity.
As they turned another corner, a glimmer of pink caught their eye. The father’s heart leaped in his chest as he raced forward, his breath coming in ragged gasps. But what awaits them around that corner? I hear the father weeping.
I hear the town cry for the little lost child. I hear the father calling. I hear the town shouting.
I hear the town calling your name. I hear him calling your name. There is no reason to hide.
Your father loves you with all his heart. Come home. Come home now.
The father’s voice echoed through the deserted alleyways, a mix of desperation and unwavering love cutting through the icy air. I hear him calling your name. There is no reason to hide.
Your father loves you with all his heart. Come home. Come home now.
The townspeople joined in, their voices rising in a chorus of hope and longing. The lost child, her heart heavy with guilt and fear, crouched behind a dumpster, tears freezing on her cheeks. The echoes of her father’s voice reached her ears, tugging at something deep within her soul.
I hear him calling your name, she whispered to herself, her resolve wavering as memories of warmth and safety flooded her mind. There is no reason to hide. But will she find the courage to step out from the shadows and into the light of her father’s love?
House of Stone
by Robert Macs Art
One there was a beautiful, peaceful town where all the houses were built of wood. The structures stood as a testament to craftsmanship, each a beautifully carved masterpiece of art. As you walk the town, a piece comes over you.
In the center of town, a group of children play joyfully in the cobblestone square. Their laughter echoes off the wooden buildings, blending harmoniously with the rustling leaves of the surrounding forest. A gentle breeze carries the sweet scent of wildflowers wrapping around the residents like a comforting embrace.
Old Mr. Jenkins sits on his porch whittling away at a small figurine, his face etched with contentment. Hey there, young fella, he calls out to a passing boy. Would you like to learn how to carve? The boy’s eyes light up with curiosity as he nods eagerly.
Mr. Jenkins chuckles and pats the space next to him on the porch. Together, they sit in companionable silence, the sound of carving filling the air. Further down the street, Mrs. Thompson tends to her blooming garden.
Her hands move with practiced ease as she lovingly tends to each delicate flower. A group of women pass by, their chatter light-hearted and filled with warmth. Morning, Mrs. Thompson, your garden looks more beautiful every day, one of them exclaims.
Mrs. Thompson smiles gratefully, her eyes crinkling at the corners. Thank you, dear. It’s all about patience and love for these little ones.
As the day progresses, the townspeople go about their routines with a sense of peace and camaraderie that binds them together like family. The sunlight filters through the canopy above, casting dappled patterns on the winding streets. The town hums with life and tranquility, a haven where worries seem to melt away amidst the beauty of nature and community.
A man comes into town, buys a piece of land, and builds a house of stone. He goes door to door telling his neighbors they, too, should build a house of stone. The man, tall and imposing, arrives in town with purpose etched into his features.
His eyes gleam with a fervor that sets him apart from the easy tranquility of the townspeople. Ignoring the curious glances thrown his way, he strides towards the outskirts, where a plot of land lies untouched. With a determination that borders on obsession, he purchases the land and sets to work immediately.
The townspeople watch in mild interest as the man begins constructing a house unlike any other, a solid fortress of stone amidst the wooden structures. As the days pass, the sound of hammers and chisels ring through the air, echoing off the trees. The man works tirelessly, sweat glistening on his brow as he single-mindedly shapes the stones into place.
One by one he visits his neighbors, a fervent zeal burning in his eyes as he implores them to follow his lead. Stone is eternal, he proclaims, his voice carrying a weight that leaves no room for argument. It is strong, unyielding.
It will stand against time itself. Some listen with interest, intrigued by the man’s unwavering belief in the power of stone. Others shake their heads in disbelief, content with their wooden homes that have sheltered generations.
But the man does not waver. He continues his crusade, each day bringing more fervor to his cause. His words become a mantra in the town, whispered in hushed tones as people debate the merits of stone versus wood.
And as the sun sets on another day in the peaceful town, a subtle tension hangs in the air, a crack in the tranquility brought by the arrival of one man and his unshakeable faith in the strength of stone. The man with a heart of stone noticed his neighbors didn’t change their ways, so one night he set his neighbor’s house on fire. The next day he walked the neighborhood, saying, this wouldn’t have happened if he had built a house of stone.
The man with a heart of stone noticed his neighbors didn’t change their ways, their wooden houses standing proudly in defiance of his beliefs. Frustration simmered within him, a slow burn that threatened to consume his very being. One night, under the cloak of darkness, he lit a match and watched as flames danced hungrily across the wooden beams of his nearest neighbor’s house.
The crackling of the fire filled the night air, casting an eerie glow on the man’s stoic face. The next day, as the townspeople gathered in shock and disbelief around the charred remains of the house, the man walked through the neighborhood with a grim expression. His eyes bore into each person he passed, his voice cold and unforgiving.
This wouldn’t have happened if he had built a house of stone, he declared, his words cutting through the murmurs of fear and suspicion that swirled around him. Some looked at him with horror, recoiling from the callousness in his tone. Others nodded solemnly, their minds grappling with the truth in his words.
The once peaceful town now buzzed with tension and mistrust, the shadow of fear looming over every interaction. The man’s actions had set a chain reaction in motion, a fracture in the very foundation of their community. As whispers spread like wildfire through the town, alliances shifted and friendships strained under the weight of uncertainty.
And amidst it all, the man stood alone, his heart as unyielding as the stone he so fervently believed in. Some of the people believed the man with a heart of stone and they began meeting at the house of stone. The members of the house of stone noticed the neighborhood didn’t change, so they went out in the night and burned down the neighborhood.
The members of the house of stone, fervent believers in the man’s vision, gathered within the sturdy walls of their fortress. The dimly lit interior echoed with their hushed conversations, a sense of camaraderie binding them together. They listened intently as the man spoke, his voice a steady cadence in the flickering candlelight.
We must show them the power of stone, he proclaimed, his eyes flashing with conviction. If they will not join us willingly, then we shall make them see the error of their ways. Some of the people believed the man with a heart of stone and they began meeting at the house of stone.
The members of the house of stone noticed the neighborhood didn’t change, so they went out in the night and burned down the neighborhood. The members of the house of stone went around saying, what a shame your house of wood burnt down. If only you had built a house of stone this wouldn’t have happened.
The members of the house of stone went around saying, what a shame your house of wood burnt down. If only you had built a house of stone this wouldn’t have happened. Their voices carried a subtle undercurrent of superiority as they spoke to their neighbors, their gazes unwavering.
Each word was like a pebble thrown into a still pond, sending ripples of doubt and fear through the once close-knit community. Mrs. Thompson stood in the midst of the crowd, her eyes wide with disbelief as she listened to the whispered accusations. Her hands trembled as she clutched a wilting flower to her chest, feeling the weight of their words settle heavily upon her shoulders.
I… I didn’t know. She stammered her voice barely above a whisper. I never thought… But the members of the House of Stone merely shook their heads in silent condemnation.
Their expressions hardened with unyielding belief in their cause. They moved on to the next house, leaving Mrs. Thompson standing alone amidst the wreckage of what was once her home. The town buzzed with tension and uncertainty, shadows lengthening across the cobblestone streets as dusk settled over the land.
The once familiar faces now bore masks of suspicion and fear, eyes darting nervously at every creak of a floorboard or flicker of movement in the shadows. As night descended like a heavy curtain over the town, whispers grew louder, weaving a tapestry of doubt and paranoia that wrapped around the hearts of its inhabitants like a vice. And in the distance, the man with a heart of stone watched from his fortress, his features shrouded in darkness as he gazed upon the chaos he had wrought.
His eyes gleamed with a fervor that bordered on fanaticism, his belief in the power of stone unwavering despite the fear and turmoil that now gripped the once peaceful town. The house of stone, the man with a heart of stone, and the way of the stone were all the same name. The house of stone, the man with a heart of stone, and the way of the stone were all the same name.
The belief in stone had become a singular entity in the town, synonymous with power, strength, and unyielding resolve. As whispers of fear and suspicion continued to ripple through the once harmonious community, the man with a heart of stone stood before a gathering of his followers within the fortress walls. His eyes blazed with an intensity that bordered on fanaticism as he addressed them, his voice echoing off the sturdy stone walls.
We are the Chosen Ones, he proclaimed, his words carrying a weight that settled like a heavy mantle upon the shoulders of his followers. The way of the stone is our path, and we shall not falter in our mission to bring enlightenment to this town. His followers nodded in solemn agreement, their faces reflecting a mixture of reverence and determination.
Each one had fully embraced the belief in stone, their faith unwavering in the face of doubt and fear that now permeated their once peaceful home. Outside the fortress walls, the townspeople huddled in small groups, their voices hushed as they debated their next course of action. The burning embers of mistrust glowed hot within them, casting shadows of doubt over every interaction.
We can’t let this continue, one voice whispered urgently, eyes darting nervously towards the imposing structure of the House of Stone. We must stand together against this madness. The townspeople nodded in agreement, a steely resolve hardening their expressions as they made their decision.
With grim determination they began to move towards the fortress, their footsteps muffled by the soft earth beneath their feet. As they approached the towering walls of stone, a sense of unease settled over them like a heavy shroud. The man with a heart of stone stood at the entrance, his gaze cold and unyielding as he watched them draw near.
What do you want? he demanded, his voice cutting through the tense silence that hung between them. One of the townspeople stepped forward, their jaw set in defiance. We will not let you tear our community apart with your beliefs, they declared, their voice ringing out with conviction.
The Way of the Stone may be yours, but it will not be ours. Who is the man with a heart of stone? What is the Way of the House of Stone? What is the name of the man, the Way and House of Stone? It is one word, an ancient name. Cain, it’s Cain, the father of religion.
He slew his brother Abel.