Once upon a time, there lived a man. He had a little crumbling cottage and tiny crop field. He lived near the border of a poor country ruled by the evil king. On the other side of the border was the happy kingdom. The man looked every day in these directions with great longing in his eyes. He saw in the distance a beautiful palace and knew that it waits for him.
He felt that his life is not as it ought to be, that he is only half awake, and that here in this kingdom he is devoid of his full possibilities and flavors.
But the border was a perilous river. It was impossible to wade or swim across it.
The only possibility was to use a stone bridge. But on the bridge was standing bloodthirsty troll. Everyone knew that the major occupation of trolls is to kill and eat humans. So no one ever tried to cross the bridge. But the man waited until the moment the troll would sleep down or walked away.
He waited and dreamed that at that moment he will run through the bridge and on the other side of the border everything will be as it should be: he will feel fully awake, he will have the full capacity and everything will have the perfect flavor. Yet year after year piled, but the troll was standing right in his station.
Finally, the man got very old. When he had no strength to move, troll looked at him, took a great hammer and destroyed the bridge. Then he came close to the old man.
“Are you going to eat me?” Asked with a frightened voice the old man.
“I do not eat humans.”
“So why, all these years you have been standing on this bridge?”
“To help you come through it.”
‘And why have you destroyed the bridge now?”
“Because you were the only person who could cross it.”
Sometimes the main reason for the existence of something that terrifies us the most is to help us.