A Snap-Fiction Story
Made By Micah Siemens
The sun rose over the Field of Crystals, spilling pale light across rows of young sprouts. Each one shimmered with a faint golden glow, and even from a distance, the field seemed alive, humming softly as if breathing. These were no ordinary plants: their growth was nurtured to power the homes and cities of the realm, feeding warmth and light into the wires and conduits that wound through every street.
The servants walked among the sprouts, bending to check their progress, brushing their hands over the smooth, warm surfaces. For all appearances, the field was perfect. Golden sprouts rose evenly, humming gently, promising energy enough to carry the people through the coming winter.
But not all was as it seemed. Overnight, the enemy had slipped into the field. Only a few brittle mirror-crystals had been sown, scattered quietly among the golden sprouts. They gleamed sharply in the morning sun, bright and dazzling, catching the eyes of the servants immediately.
“Master,” said one servant, bending low to inspect the glimmering shard, “these crystals… they do not seem right. Should we remove them?”
The Master walked slowly along the edge of the field, eyes calm, hands folded. He knew exactly what the enemy had done. He knew the enemy had done the work done under the cover of night. He also knew the danger of acting too soon: the roots of the young brittle crystals had entwined with those of the golden ones. Pull one free too hastily, and a warm crystal might fracture along with it.
“Let them grow,” the Master said quietly. “Wait for the harvest season.”
The servants hesitated. It went against their instincts. These crystals were meant to bring warmth and power to the cities—they were valuable, vital. To see anything potentially harmful among them and do nothing felt wrong. But the Master’s calm nature was unshakable, and they trusted him.
Days passed. The golden crystals thickened, their warm light deepening, humming into the soil and spreading strength to nearby sprouts. The brittle ones, in contrast, grew quickly, reflecting sunlight in sharp, dazzling flashes. Some servants found themselves drawn to the brilliance, mistaking it for promise, while others whispered anxiously about what might happen if the brittle crystals were left to grow.
Still, the Master walked the field each morning, silent and steady, watching without touching. The servants followed his instructions, tending the field carefully but resisting the urge to intervene. They watered, cleaned debris, and recorded observations, but no one dared disturb the suspicious shards.
Weeks passed, and the golden crystals continued to grow steadily, their warmth spreading through the field. The brittle crystals, though striking, remained hollow at their cores. Even the brightest ones lacked the resonance that the golden sprouts held naturally.
Finally, the harvest season arrived. The field hummed with energy, the golden crystals glowing more strongly than ever, ready to be collected and processed to fuel the homes and cities. The brittle crystals, though fully grown, fractured easily under the lightest touch. Servants tapped one, and it shattered instantly into jagged pieces that fell harmlessly to the soil, leaving only empty reflections behind.
The golden crystals, however, resisted every test. They bent slightly under pressure, sang faintly with warmth, and continued to glow steadily, full of life and energy. The servants worked methodically, gathering the golden crystals, careful not to disturb the shards of brittle crystal still scattered among them.
The field, once tense with uncertainty, now hummed in quiet order. The danger had passed without any need for hasty action. The enemy’s attempt to spoil the harvest had failed, not because of clever detection or quick hands, but because the Master had waited for the proper time. The brittle crystals revealed themselves only when the harvest came, and in that moment, there was no risk of harming the golden sprouts.
The servants finally understood. Their patience had preserved the field, allowing the crystals to provide warmth and light to the people without compromise. The energy flowed into the cities, powering homes, lanterns, and workshops, while the brittle shards crumbled back into the earth.
And through it all, the Master walked quietly among the rows, watching the harvest, letting the field sort itself, as he always had. The lesson was simple but lasting: sometimes the right action is waiting, even when the danger seems obvious. Nature and time reveal what hands cannot, and rushing to judge can bring ruin to what is good.
The golden crystals, bright and steady, hummed across the land. The brittle ones lay broken and powerless, reminders that appearances can deceive, and that patience preserves what is true. The servants left the field wiser, their hands warmed by the energy of the golden crystals and their hearts steadied by the quiet truth of the Master’s wisdom.
See Matthew 3:24-30 for the inspiration of the story and Matthew 13:36-43 for explanation of what it meant. 2 Peter 3:9 is a key essential to my parody.
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