The clouds passing by had secrets to tell. Each had an expression as if they had the answers to the deepest questions in life. They floated in the newspaper sky, which was smudged with meaning and magic.
“What is a newspaper sky?” you might ask yourself. It is when the entire atmosphere has stories swirling amongst the stars. Words whip around in the wind with wonder. Between the blush of the blistering sun to the song of the shy little sparrow. Each had a novel of knowledge to share with the passersby – if only anyone would look up and marvel.
Too many of the trolls living down below were fixated on the ground. Too busy watching each step instead of loving life and leaping into the air. Others were just obsessed with screens. Small screens, big screens, bright screens, dim screens. But especially hand-held screens that sucked away their very being.
The cumulus clouds were particularly perturbed about this ongoing activity of the trolls. They would billow up, fill themselves with lightning, and then shed their tears. Anything to get the attention of the trolls below.
But the trolls continued looking at their screens and gazing at the ground. So, the clouds urged the mushrooms to get the trolls’ attention. From the clouds’ condensation, the mushrooms used the moisture to glisten with gold. They stuck their little hats out of the hedges, showing off their ruby reds, bronzy browns, and a perfect assortment of polka dots. Even this astonishment did not attract the eye of the trolls.
Where was the tapping and ticking and typing? The trolls preferred pushing buttons instead of longingly looking at the life before them. Their entire life was connected to a cord. The gears in their games would grind away till no life was left. Any technology fueled these feelingless trolls. By being connected, they were more disconnected from the world around them. So much that they slumped and had humps and were usually grumps.
So, the clouds made the motion to just move along and sing their song while dancing with the breeze as they floated by. The mushrooms took root near the shade of the tree and napped quietly where no one could see.
The trolls buried themselves under the bridge, connected to cords and chaos, never noticing the newspaper sky that told stories of old and new.
We all know this tale is true. Does it resonate with you?
