The sun was rising over a quiet village. Birds were singing. The air was calm and peaceful.
An old farmer walked slowly toward his field with his donkey. The donkey was not young anymore. His steps were slower than before. His back was tired from years of carrying heavy loads.
The farmer sighed.
"You have worked hard all your life," he said softly.
Suddenly, something unexpected happened.
The ground beneath the donkey broke.
Before anyone could react, the donkey fell into a deep, dry well.
"Help! Help!" the farmer shouted as he ran toward the well.
From inside the darkness, the donkey cried loudly. His voice echoed through the village. The farmer looked down. The well was deep. Too deep.
He tried to think of a way to pull the donkey out. But the well was old and broken. The donkey was heavy. The farmer was tired.
Hours passed.
The donkey kept crying.
Finally, the farmer made a painful decision.
"The donkey is old," he whispered. "And the well must be covered anyway."
He called his neighbors for help.
Soon, several villagers arrived with shovels.
Without looking down too much, they began to throw dirt into the well.
At first, the donkey cried louder than ever.
He understood what was happening.
They were burying him alive.
Dirt hit his back.
Another shovel.
And another.
The villagers continued.
Then something strange happened.
The donkey became quiet.
The farmer stopped for a moment.
"Why did he stop crying?" he wondered.
He carefully looked down into the well.
And what he saw shocked him.
Every time dirt landed on the donkey's back, the donkey shook it off… and stepped on it.
Shake.
Step up.
Shake.
Step up.
The dirt that was meant to bury him was slowly raising him higher.
The villagers continued to throw more dirt.
But now, something had changed.
The donkey was no longer afraid.
He had made a decision.
He would not give up.
With every shovel of dirt, he grew stronger.
With every step, he moved closer to the light above.
The well was still deep.
But hope was rising.
And this was only the beginning.