Once there was a wicked prince, so wicked he stank. No maiden would have him.
He mounted his horse and set out to find a wife.
On the road, a raven flew above his head. He threw rocks and when they hit the bird, the prince felt pain. He felt the same pain on seeing a crowd of beggars. A parched child moved him to give her water.
It was a cleansing experience. The raven spoke. “Follow me.”
The prince crossed the kingdom, sweating beside laborers, sweeping streets, felling trees. He smelled of productive work and lived a happy life.
Monica's Monday Morning Flash 