From Echoes Beneath Ohio (Grumble-Grum Tales, Part 3)
by Esi Noire
Once, long ago but not quite forgotten, Grumble-Grum was born into a royal line.
Not just any line – but the House of Menders, a sacred family tasked with lifting the village out of smallness. They didn’t rule with gold or guards, but with a set of ancient commandments called The Betterings.
They were simple, but strong:
- Carry more than you take.
- Teach what you’ve lived.
- Leave every soul a little brighter.
- Never make comfort your crown.
But Grumble-Grum? He loved comfort.
So instead of following The Betterings, he studied the people. He watched what made them cheer. What made them laugh. What helped them forget their own responsibilities.
And he became exactly that.
Part 2: The Crownless Prince
Grumble-Grum never wore a crown – not because he rejected royalty, but because crowns attract expectations. He didn’t want to be a leader. He wanted to be liked.
He joked when they joked. He ignored what they ignored. He shrugged when others suffered – unless the suffering touched his plate or his plans.
And the people loved him for it.
“He’s just like us,” they said.
“Not like the others. Not preachy. Not distant. He understands.”
“He doesn’t judge us. He eats what we eat, skips what we skip.”
No one noticed he’d stopped living the commandments. No one cared that he was supposed to be better.
Because he made everyone feel good about staying the same.
Part 3: The Quiet Collapse
Over time, the village grew slower. Duller. Fences weren’t mended. Children weren’t taught. Sick neighbors went unseen.
But because Grumble-Grum didn’t talk about it, no one else did either.
He told them:
- “That’s not our job.”
- “We’re only monsters, not miracles.”
- “Why fix the world when the stew’s still warm?”
And so the stew stayed warm… but the souls began to chill.
Part 4: The Day of Judging
No one expected the cloud.
It came not with thunder, but silence. Not with fire, but reflection.
The sky opened – not to punish, but to measure.
And each creature was shown a mirror made not of glass, but of choices.
Grumble-Grum stood before his. He expected laughter. Maybe applause. He’d been loved, after all.
But the mirror showed not who had loved him – It showed who had followed him into ruin.
It showed:
- The children who copied his laziness
- The friends who excused their cruelty because “he never said it was wrong”
- The moments he could have changed everything… but chose silence
And then came the voice:
“Those who knew better – and still led others to do worse – are not judged only for themselves.”
“They are judged for everyone they convinced to stop rising.”
Part 5: The Final Reflection
Grumble-Grum fell to his knees. Not in grief. Not in apology. But in disbelief.
“But I didn’t mean harm,” he said.
The voice did not shout.
“But you also didn’t mean healing.”
“And that… is the greater crime.”
The people wept – not because they had followed him, but because they wanted him to be right.
But wanting someone to be right doesn’t make them righteous.
And Grumble-Grum? He was never cruel. He was just… convenient.
Epilogue: For Those Who Were Meant to Lead
Some of you were born with commandments in your hands.
You were meant to build. To speak. To raise the whole room.
But if you trade that calling for comfort – If you become “relatable” instead of responsible – If your silence becomes their permission…
Then your judgment will come not just from your choices. But from every broken thing you quietly agreed with.
Rise. Before your reflection does the talking for you.
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