287th story

A shepherd once said:

Years ago, Fathollah, an old man and I took the village flock to graze.

The border between our village and the neighbouring one was a wide river.

For generations, there had been a long-standing dispute between the two villages over letting sheep into each other’s pastures. Sometimes, it even led to fights.

One day, by mistake, our flock crossed the river into the enemy’s pastures.

Suddenly, the huge and furious figure of a man appeared.

He took our flock hostage and said:

“One of you, come over here and I’ll release the flock.”

We knew his real intention was to beat the one who comes to get the flock.

Fathollah said, “You go.”

I said, “He will kill me.”

Fathollah said, “I would never allow such.”

In respect of the old Fathollah, I crossed the river.

Suddenly, the enemy grabbed me and raised his stick to strike.

From across the river, Fathollah shouted:

“If you’re a man, and your father’s son, hit him and see what I’ll do to you!”

The enemy brought the willow stick down on my leg so hard that my scream reached the seven heavens.

Fathollah shouted:

“If you hit him again, I’ll wipe out your entire family!”

This time, the enemy struck my back so hard the skin broke and blood came out.

Fathollah yelled again:

“You son of a … if you’re a man…”

I realized that if Fathollah kept up his boasting, the enemy was going to beat me to death.

So I started begging: “Please forgive me, I’m sorry, I promise our flock will never enter your pasture again.”

The enemy gave me one last smack—thankfully much softer—on my backside and left.

I drove the flock back to Fathollah with sore legs, arms, and back.

I was about to pass out when I heard Fathollah say:

“I swear on my father’s soul, if he had hit you one more time, I would have made his mother cry for a year.”