On an autumn evening, when the air smelled of woodsmoke and the last amber leaves clung to skeletal trees, a man named Samuel trudged home along a dirt road. His boots were caked with mud, his hands calloused from a day of labor. In his pocket, he carried three silver coins-his earnings from selling firewood at the market. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to buy bread and perhaps a small jar of honey for his daughter’s birthday the next day.

Samuel’s path wound beside a river, its surface glinting like liquid obsidian under the twilight. He paused, as he often did, to watch the water. It was here, in the stillness, that he noticed the dog.

The animal was lean, its fur matted and dull, but its eyes burned with a restless intensity. Clenched in its jaws was a bone, scavenged from some forgotten meal. The dog trotted toward the riverbank, head high, as though carrying a treasure. Then it stopped. Its reflection stared back from the water-a phantom twin holding a bone twice as large.

Samuel chuckled. *Foolish creature*, he thought. *Can’t you see it’s just a trick of the light?*

But the dog dropped its bone and lunged at the shadow. The water erupted in chaos. When the ripples faded, both the reflection and the real bone were gone, swept downstream. The dog whined, nosing the empty mud.

Samuel shook his head and continued home, the image lingering in his mind. That night, as he lay in bed, his daughter asleep in the next room, he found himself staring at the ceiling. The dog’s folly echoed in his thoughts.

—

The next morning, Samuel returned to the river. He hadn’t planned to-it was out of his way-but something tugged at him. The dog was there again, this time gnawing on a scrap of dried meat. Again, it saw its reflection. Again, it attacked the illusion. Again, it lost what little it had.

Samuel crouched by the bank. “You never learn, do you?” he murmured.

The dog glanced at him, ears flattened, then slunk into the underbrush.

That afternoon, Samuel sold twice as much firewood. A wealthy merchant, passing through the village, paid him five silver coins for an armful of seasoned oak. Samuel’s chest swelled. *Five coins!* He could buy honey *and* a new wool cloak for his daughter.

But as he pocketed the money, the merchant mentioned a rumor: a shipment of rare spices would arrive by wagon next week. Those who invested early, he said, could triple their earnings.

Samuel’s fingers tightened around the coins. *Triple*. He imagined his daughter’s face if he could afford a painted doll from the city, or sugar-dusted pastries.

—

For days, Samuel worked until his shoulders screamed. He felled trees, split logs, and hauled them to the market. When the spice wagon arrived, he emptied his savings-14 coins in total-into the merchant’s palm.

“A wise choice,” the merchant said, clapping him on the back.

But the spices never came. The wagon, it turned out, had been ambushed by bandits. The merchant vanished. Samuel stood in the market square, hands shaking, as the truth settled over him.

That evening, he walked home along the river. The dog was there, gaunter than ever, staring at the water. Samuel knelt beside it.

“It’s just a shadow,” he said, voice rough. “Just a damned shadow.”

The dog looked at him. For a heartbeat, Samuel saw his own reflection in its eyes-the man who’d traded real bread for imaginary feasts.

—

**The Lesson in the Ripples**

Greed, dear reader, is not a monster with claws. It’s quieter. A whisper that the grass is greener, the bone larger, the future brighter-if only we let go of what we already hold.

Samuel built a new life, coin by coin. His daughter never got her painted doll, but she learned to carve figures from pine knots. They laughed more, once the chasing stopped.

As for the dog? Some say it still haunts the river, trapped in its cycle of hunger and hope. Others claim it followed a woodsman home one night, trading wildness for a warm hearth.

Which tale is true? Perhaps both. After all, aren’t we all a little of the dog and a little of the man-caught between the tangible and the imagined, learning, again and again, to value what lies solid in our grasp?

Sleep well, dear reader. And remember: not every shadow deserves your teeth.

—
*Word count: 652*
*bedtimestory.cc keywords: bedtime story for adults, fable about greed, life lessons, letting go, valuing the present*