Thread by @Joannechocolat

Cup of tea: ten minutes to kill. You know what that means, Twitter: #Storytime.

New followers, to explain. #Storytime; in which I write a new story, live and unvarnished, on Twitter. And it always begins like this:
"There is a story the bees used to tell, which makes it hard to disbelieve."

There once was a man who lived on a hill. The hill was not a large one, but it gave the man certain advantages. #Storytime

A little more light in the mornings; a pleasant and sunny garden; protection from the seasonal floods that affected the rest of his village. #Storytime

This meant that the man grew prosperous without realizing that he owed it all to the position of his home. And it meant that people looked up to the man almost without being aware of it; the elevation of the hill made it easy to do so. #Storytime

When the man married, the villagers looked up to his wife in the same way. The wife enjoyed her new prestige, and wielded her power accordingly, playing to her audience with pleasing grace and modesty. #Storytime

“I shall never forget my roots,” she promised her friends in the village. “If ever you need me, be assured that you can rely on my goodwill.” #Storytime

The people who lived on the small hill prospered, and had children. The children were healthy and well-fed, benefiting from the extra light, and unaffected by the disease that always came with the yearly floods. #Storytime

“How lucky we are,” said the folk on the hill. “Look how the gods have favoured us!” #Storytime

One year, the floods were especially bad. Most of the village was flooded out. Crops were lost; people fell ill with the fever, and the villagers turned to the folk on the hill for salvation and advice as the rain continued to fall. #Storytime

“Let us build our homes on the hill,” pleaded the suffering villagers. “There, we can be safe from the floods.” #Storytime

The lady of the house on the hill distributed soup to the less unsightly of the children of the village. #Storytime

The master of the house on the hill offered the poor his thoughts and prayers. #Storytime

The children of the house on the hill drew pictures of rainbows and hung them in their windows, to show support to the folk of the village. #Storytime

But the family on the hill would not allow anyone to build in their grounds. They liked their isolation; enjoyed their pretty garden. #Storytime

Most of all, they liked the fact that they could distribute largesse; and the lady made cakes for the children, and wrapped up small, thoughtful presents for some of the more deserving poor. #Storytime

But the villagers remained dissatisfied; even - the lady thought - ungrateful. #Storytime

“What else can I do?” she said.
“Please, let us stay on the hill,” they wept.
The lady expressed much sympathy, but was reluctant to agree. “We have no special advantage, she said. “The rain falls on everyone equally.” #Storytime

The villagers pointed out that the hill itself offered certain privileges. #Storytime

“Privilege?” said the lady. “We have no special privilege. We too suffer from the rains. Look how our roses have been ruined. Look how our children must play indoors. Do we even live on a hill? Surely this little slope is not deserving of the name.” #Storytime

This angered the desperate villagers, and they hurled angry words at the folk on the hill, calling them selfish, entitled, and other, less polite terms which the lady of the hill found very hurtful. #Storytime

“I have been nothing but good to you all throughout this terrible time,” she said. “But this unprovoked abuse, which has hurt me and frightened my children, proves that you are not deserving. Very well. I wash my hands of you. But know that politeness costs nothing.” #Storytime

The villagers moved away, abashed, except for one girl, who remained to say: “Politeness costs nothing to the one who already has everything. To those of us who have nothing, politeness is a luxury we cannot afford.” #Storytime

The woman watched her go, open-mouthed.
#Storytime

Then she went back to her house on the hill and wept, while her husband and children assured her that she was good, and kind, and polite, and that she had always done her best to help the common people.
#Storytime
the end