Stolen Waters

Folly is an unruly woman; she is simple and knows nothing … Stolen water is sweet; food eaten in secret is delicious!” But little do they know that the dead are there, that her guests are deep in the realm of the dead. Proverbs 9:13,17-18

Enzo was flourishing under the tutelage of Mrs. Eliana at the Seven Pillars Project. Carpentry had given him a craft; programming, a future. But Folly, like a loud and seductive woman, had not given up on him. She would sit at the door of his old life, on the overpass above the train tracks, and call out to him.

Her voice was that of Cadu, his old friend.

“Hey, Enzo, long time no see,” he said, approaching him at the project’s exit. “Still in that granny’s little school? Real life is happening out here.”

Cadu was the spokesman for the “foolish woman.” He was boisterous, full of promises of easy excitement and quick gains. He knew nothing about building, only about taking.

“Hang with us tonight,” Cadu invited, his voice low and conspiratorial. “There’s a new scheme. Easy money. A quick buck is so much better than sweating for it.”

The “scheme” was simple and dangerous: using a card-cloning app to make online purchases. The “stolen waters,” the money that did not belong to them, seemed sweet. The thrill of the forbidden, the adrenaline of secrecy, was what Folly offered.

Enzo felt the pull. The life of hard work, though rewarding, was slow. Cadu’s promise was a tempting shortcut, a glimpse of the consumer life he saw on social media.

He hesitated. The voice of Wisdom, the calm and firm voice of Mrs. Eliana, echoed in his mind. But the voice of Folly was louder, more urgent, more seductive.

“It’s just for one night, Enzo. No one will ever know,” Cadu insisted.

That night, Enzo found himself back in his old world, but now he was different. He saw things more clearly. He sat with Cadu and the others in a dark basement, lit only by the screens of their laptops. The air was heavy with the smell of smoke and the feverish energy of transgression.

They were laughing, bragging about the expensive products they were “buying.” But Enzo could not laugh. He looked at his friends’ faces, animated by the excitement of the moment, and he saw no life. He saw an emptiness. They were loud, but their souls were silent.

He thought of the carpentry workshop, of the smell of wood, of the satisfaction of creating something with his own hands. That was life. He thought of the computer screen at the Seven Pillars, where he built code to help people. That was life.

What was happening in that basement… was not life. It was its opposite.

Suddenly, the basement door burst open with a crash. Two police officers, with blinding flashlights, stormed the place. Panic erupted. Cadu tried to run but was tackled. The laughter turned to screams, the excitement to terror.

Enzo, who had not actively participated, was taken along with the others. At the police station, under the cold, impersonal light, he looked at his friends. They were no longer the braggarts from the overpass. They were just scared, handcuffed kids.

One of the officers, an older man with a tired gaze, looked at Enzo. “You don’t seem like the others, kid. What were you doing there?”

Enzo could not answer. He was seeing, with a terrible clarity, the secret of Folly’s house. Her feast was a fraud. Her guests were not the clever, the cool. They were the dead. Dead in their dreams, dead in their freedom, dead in their future.

Mrs. Eliana came to pick him up the next morning. She did not scold him. She just hugged him, a hug that said, “welcome back to life.”

As he walked away from the police station, Enzo looked back. He did not know what would happen to Cadu and the others. But he knew that he had been in the depths of hell, and that, by a hair’s breadth, he had escaped. Stolen waters might seem sweet for an instant, but the aftertaste they left was that of death. And he, now, only thirsted for the fountain of life.

(Made with AI)

This story is part of my book Everyday Wisdom

https://books2read.com/u/3knogL

False Gods

People insist on adoring many things,

It can be an image or another thing...

They adore uselessly because there is no power in them.

 

The images have a mouth and cannot speak,

Ears and cannot hear.

Nor one living spirit to answer.

They always stay stopped, and there is no life in them.

 

They are works of sinner men,

They do it only to multiply worshipers,

In stone, metal, or wood,

They are made to multiply what is not good.

 

Because there is only one that we have to adore:

The Lord God!

He can hear our clamor,

We have to pray only to Him.

Only the Lord Almighty can change everything.

 

Do not seek gods made by humans,

They are bad works of mundane people.

They are an abomination to the true Lord,

He desires our pure praise and love.

 

Praise only the true God,

He will never forsake us,

Only He can save you, and to eternal life, He will take us.

This poem is part of the book Christian Poetry Volume I.

See the book:

https://books2read.com/u/mg5w0z

Retribution

People practice evil and do not care about anything,

There is no payback; it is what they think.

In their hearts, evil intentions will sprout,

They live plotting evil deeds to carry out.

They execute their evil works without a doubt.

This reckless thought process is wrong,

Everybody will be repaid for what they have done.

Nothing that has been done will go unpunished,

The Lord will repay according to his truth, undiminished.

Those who were good, God will repay with good,

Those who practiced evil will receive many evils.

This is the true justice that comes from the Lord,

Of all the earth, the judge only and great lawgiver id God.

There is no escape from God’s great justice,

Wherever a person is, He will reach them, his promise.

Therefore, it is essential to practice kindness,

Otherwise, they will receive great wickedness.

Before the Lord executes his judgment,

He still gives an opportunity to each of his children.

God tells his children to repent and change their ways,

Thus, He will soften his divine justice,

Even if softened, retribution will still take place.

This poem is part of the book Christian Poetry Volume VII.

See the book:

https://books2read.com/u/38l5Oa

The Reflection in the Mirror

The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, and knowledge of the Holy One is understanding … If you are wise, your wisdom will reward you; if you are a mocker, you alone will suffer. Proverbs 9:10,12

Five years had passed since the day of the fateful performance review. For Adriano, they had been years of constant growth. He was now the Creative Director of the agency, occupying Maurício’s old office, who had since retired. His wisdom was not just technical; he had learned that the fear of the Lord, the humility to recognize that he did not know everything, was the true beginning of his journey. He led his team with the same openness and respect with which he had learned to receive criticism. His life was a silent testament that the wisdom he sought was for his own good, a source of peace and prosperity.

Ronan, on the other hand, had become a professional nomad. He had gone through three different agencies in five years, leaving a trail of conflicts and unfinished projects. In each place, the story repeated itself: a promising start, followed by an inability to accept criticism, the creation of a toxic environment, and finally, a bitter departure. He was the mocker and the arrogant one, and the bill for his arrogance was coming due, heavy and exclusively for him.

Their meeting happened at an industry event, one of those noisy cocktail parties where everyone wears their best smiles and business cards. Adriano was surrounded by young designers who listened to him with admiration. Ronan was leaning in a corner, alone, observing the scene with a glass of whiskey in his hand and a familiar cynicism in his eyes.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the big boss,” Ronan said, approaching, his voice laden with an irony that barely concealed his bitterness. “Climbed the ladder fast, huh, Adriano? Kissed the right ass, I imagine.”

Adriano turned, and the smile on his face did not waver. There was no arrogance in it, only a genuine calm.

“Hi, Ronan. Good to see you. How are you?”

The simple question disarmed Ronan. He had expected a confrontation, an exchange of barbs. But Adriano was no longer in that game.

“I’m doing great,” Ronan lied. “Starting my own agency. Got tired of working for incompetent people.”

Adriano just nodded, without judgment.

“I wish you success.” And with a polite handshake, he excused himself and returned to his conversation.

The encounter, which lasted less than a minute, was enough to shake Ronan. Adriano’s peace, his quiet confidence, was a brutal contrast to the storm that raged inside him.

Later that night, Ronan arrived at his small, messy apartment. The “own agency” was just an idea, a bluff to mask the fact that he had been fired again the previous week. He looked at himself in the large mirror in the living room, one of the few pieces of furniture left from his glory days.

And, for the first time, he did not see the misunderstood genius. He saw a forty-year-old man, tired, lonely, and afraid. He remembered that day in Maurício’s office. He remembered Adriano. All the excuses he had built over the years—bad bosses, envious colleagues, bad luck—crumbled.

The truth hit him with the force of a punch. No one had done this to him. Not Maurício, not Adriano, not the “system.” He, and he alone, had borne the weight of his own arrogance. It had been an anchor, keeping him stuck in the same place while the world around him moved on. His refusal to learn had been his sentence.

The man in the mirror stared back at him, and there was nowhere to run. The wisdom Adriano had embraced had lifted him up. The arrogance Ronan had chosen had sunk him. And, in the silence of his apartment, he finally understood the loneliest truth of all: the harvest of our choices is non-transferable.

(Made with AI)

This story is part of my book Everyday Wisdom

https://books2read.com/u/3knogL