One misty morning in a quiet village nestled between rolling hills and dense forests, a stranger appeared seemingly from nowhere. He was tall, cloaked in a dark coat, and carried a mysterious air about him. No one knew his name, nor where he had come from, but he moved with unusual grace that caught everyone’s attention. As he wandered through the village square, something peculiar happened. The sun was shining brightly, casting sharp shadows on the cobblestones, yet the stranger’s shadow was nowhere to be seen. People stared in wonder, then in confusion. Children giggled, trying to spot the stranger’s shadow, but it was simply gone.
The stranger didn’t seem bothered by this. Instead, he continued his walk, observing everything with a gentle smile. That evening, he settled in the village inn, and when the innkeeper brought him a warm cup of tea, she couldn’t help but ask,
“Sir, why is it that you have no shadow?”
He looked at her with kind eyes and replied,
“Long ago, I was a man who chased after his dreams so fiercely that I forgot to look behind me. One day, I lost my shadow, not as a curse, but as a reminder. Shadows are the echoes of ourselves—what we leave behind. Without it, I am free from the past, free to become someone new.”
From that day on, the villagers saw the stranger in a different light. He was no longer just a mysterious visitor but a symbol of letting go of old burdens and embracing the unknown. When he eventually left the village, no one knew where he went, but they remembered his words. And as for the shadow? It never appeared, but perhaps, in some way, the stranger and his words stayed with them — a gentle reminder that sometimes, to truly move forward, we must let go of what’s behind.
Lazarus Carpenter - Author 