Long ago and far away there lived a boy, named Gart. His father, a woodsman, earned just enough to provide for his family and prevented them from ever going hungry. The good man gave what little extra he had to needy neighbors gaining a good reputation for so doing. Gart secretly resented him for doing this. He reasoned, Shouldn’t generosity begin at home? And so, the lad was never satisfied even though he never lacked for any real need.
Gart’s parents, noticing the boy’s disposition, attempted to teach him to value the important things in life. His father gave him a copper coin from time to time when he could afford it to help the boy learn how to handle money. “Be careful how you spend this,” he instructed the lad. “Remember, good neighbors are more valuable than all the trinkets and baubles that money can buy.”
His father’s speech did nothing to impress Gart. He strolled the streets of their village searching for stuff to buy with his few copper coins. Sometimes he bought candy. Other times he saved to buy brightly colored toys. But no matter what he spent his money on he always wanted more.
On his eleventh birthday Gart’s father gave him eleven copper coins. “I’ve been saving these for you,” he said. “Now use this money wisely.” The good man hoped his son would use the coins to do some good, but Gart took them to the village in search of trifles to add to his collection.
Gart looked in the windows of each shop until a glass globe, the size of a man’s fist and mounted on a brass base, caught his eye. Inside the globe sat a miniature village so wonderfully constructed it could pass for real. Its gayly colored edifices shone with all the colors of the rainbow as if carved from precious jewels. The boy thought how wonderful the globe would look on the mantle above his family’s fireplace, but then decided, even better, it would be on my shelf. I can look on it when I go to bed and when I get up. I can never be sad if I have the likes this to look upon every day.
The boy asked the shopkeeper who made the exquisite miniature city in the wonderful globe. The elderly man smiled. “No one made, it young, That is no miniature replication. It was placed in the sphere by elves. If you look at it in the quiet of the night you can see it come alive.”
Gart’s eyes narrowed. “ A real city? Placed in a globe? By elves? The city looks fit for a king.”
The old man never shifted his gaze. “You have keen eyesight even if you do not yet trust it. This is the city of a king. And why not elves? Are they not His servants?”
The boy dismissed the old man’s comments as mere fables. “Okay, if you say so, but if I do want this bauble, how much will it cost me?”
The shopkeeper eyed the money in the boy’s hand. “It will cost you eleven pieces of copper.”
Gart considered it. Eleven copper coins? But that’s all I have. However, the brass base is worth that and I do really want this sphere so. He handed the shopkeeper his money and left with his prize, dismissing what the old man said about the miniature city being real. He shook his head. I don’t know about that, but it sure is pretty. It will go well with the other things in my room.
Gart took the globe home and set it on his shelf. It became the last thing he looked at every night, and sometimes he thought he spied tiny people moving about the miniature village. He dismissed this as the power of suggestion working on his imagination. That’s just crazy talk from an old man. Anyone who is smart knows there is no such thing as elves.
But Gart began noticing movement within the sphere more often. Late at night he observed tiny points of light coming from within the globe–and singing–songs of joy which he could not shut out of his mind. After that, thoughts of the globe never left his mind. Is the old man right? Is this a real city? If so, is there a way to go there. It’s so beautiful I would love to be there if even for a day.
The boy remembered the shopkeeper. Maybe he does know something. He returned to the village but found the shop shut up tight. He asked around if anyone had seen the old man, but no one in the village had. In fact, neither did anyone remember the old man or his shop. Gart hung his head and started for home. I guess I’ll have to be satisfied looking at the beautiful city even if I can never go there.
As he headed for home, a hand from behind touched his shoulder. A voice said, “Do you believe me now that the city is real?”
Gart turned and looked up into the eyes of the man he sought. “I was looking for you. No one in the village remembers you or your shop. I have some things to ask you.”
The old man smiled. “No one remembers me because I was not there for them. But that is not important. Do you believe the city is real?”
Gart shook his head. “I’m still not convinced. It looks so real, and I think I hear singing coming from it. If only there was a way for me to go there. That would convince me.”
“Ah,” said the old man. “For that you need a key.”
Gart frowned. “But where would I find such a thing, and what would I do with it once I had it?”
The shopkeeper reached within a satchel and drew out a book bound in black leather. “In this book you will find the key to the city of joy.”
Gart looked at the book. “But I have no money to pay you.”
The old man smiled. “No charge. The book goes with the globe. I just held it for you until you were ready for it.”
When Gart returned home he searched through the pages of the book but found no key. I’m still not sure about all of this. The old man said there’d be a key to the city, but I found none. He placed the book on the shelf next to the globe. That night more songs of joy emanated from the sphere.
In the morning, Gart looked through the book again. Still, no key. He peered at the city in the globe and then at the book and unexplainably felt a connection between the two. At last, he decided, Maybe the old man meant that if I read the book I’ll find clues to the key to the city.
And so, Gart began to read the book in search of answers to his quest, but as he read he learned about goodness and a king that ruled a wonderful country from a beautiful city. The more he read, the less he wanted to put the book down. It changed him. He lost his desire to gather things to himself. He gave away most of his hoard of treasures. Real treasure, he now observed, is found within one’s heart. Joy, love, peace, goodness, kindness are treasures no one can take away.
Gart’s parents noticed the change in their son. His father called him, “My happy boy.”
And indeed, Gart was happy. The book brought seeds of joy to his heart reminding him of the songs from the sphere. His daily tasks could not take away the joy the book brought to his heart. Only one thing left, he thought. My joy would be complete it only I could visit the city in the sphere if even for a day.
On the clear starry eve of his nineteenth birthday, at the rising of the brightest star, Gart again expressed his desire to visit the city in the globe. The shopkeeper’s voice broke the night stillness startling him. “Go, to the Book I gave you and shake it three times.” The young man looked about himself and saw no one.
Not willing to go against such a clear sign Gart returned to his room and obeyed at once. A tiny brass key fell from the book’s binding at the third shake. A small hole appeared in the brass bass of the globe. The key fit perfectly. What happened next, he could never explain. Either he shrunk or the globe and its base expanded. Either way, he faced an open door through which he entered the city.
A man in white garments met him. He smiled. “Welcome. I’m Gabe. I’ve been sent to show you around.”
Afterwards, no matter how hard he tried, Gart could never find the words to describe the country in which the city lay. The globe had only revealed a part. The city gleamed with light of its own. The buildings were constructed from precious jewels. The pavement of the streets resembled fine gold. The inhabitants of that land wore robes of every hue imaginable. Their countenances expressed joy.
Gart asked his guide, “Is no one ever sad here?”
Gabe answered, “How can they be when the king of the city sits upon his throne.”
“I must see this king. Where is he?” Gart asked.
“You’re not ready to meet Him face to face. All that do, must be clothed with the proper garments. But you have met Him in his Book, and must be satisfied with that until you return,” the boy’s guide answered. “For now, you must go back to your world until the time comes for you to return here.”
At his guide’s request, Gart closed his eyes and upon opening them found himself back in his room in front of the globe on his shelf.
The years passed. Gart continued to read the book and lived a full life. He married and his wife presented him with three sons whom they taught from the book. People knew him as kind, forgiving, and caring.
As do all men, Gart grew old. His wife passed on. His sons moved away. Winter entered his bones. Yet he had contentment with no regrets, save one. He yearned for more time in the city within the globe.
One evening after Gart settled in for the night, Gabe visited his bedside. “Gart, come with me. It is time for your return to the city.”
“Gladly, the old man said. “But I’m old now and have but few years left. If only I could have come sooner.”
Gabe just smiled, “Time is nothing in the realm of the King.”
Gart looked about himself. “But I have no key, the one I had I lost after I used it.”
Gabe pointed to the carved cross Gart wore around his neck. “That will do. No better key could you find.”
Gart fit the cross–one he had fashioned after reading the central story in the Book–and fit it into the hole at the base of the globe. Again, a doorway appeared, and he entered the city.
Gabe remained at his side and led him toward the castle of the king. Gart stopped at the door of the palace. “I can’t enter for I don’t have the royal robes.”
At this Gabe led him aside to gaze in a clear pool of water. “Look. The king has made you fit for his presence.”
Gart marveled at what he saw. His youth had returned, and he was clothed with a royal blue robe. “Ah,” he said. “There is now no reason I cannot enter to see the King.” He entered into the king’s castle and dwells there still.
Back in Gart’s old world, People searched for, but never found him. Years went by. His house fell to ruins and was torn down. A lad found the globe among the debris and took it to a shop where he sold it for eleven copper coins. The shopkeeper placed it on a shelf next to a black leatherbound book with the thought, somehow these two things go together.