Bartholomew's Hilarious Quest to Build a Wall with Padded Mittens
Bartholomew was, by all accounts, a magnificent Golem. He was seven feet of finely packed earth and clay, capable of lifting an ox and standing guard for three days straight. Unfortunately, Bartholomew had a severe, debilitating phobia: he was terrified of rocks.
Not just big boulders—those he respected—but small, pointy, unassuming pebbles. He viewed gravel paths as mortal enemies and once spent an hour trying to tiptoe around a tiny, innocent piece of quartz he called "The Shining Menace."
"But Bartholomew," his creator, the kindly old Wizard Barnaby, often sighed, "you are literally made of earth! Rocks are just hardened, older versions of you!"
"And what if they are contagious?" Bartholomew whispered, hiding behind Barnaby's feather duster because a stray river stone had rolled under the desk. "What if I get… rocky?"
His fear reached a ridiculous climax when the village needed a new defensive wall. Bartholomew, being the only one strong enough to haul the materials, was paralysed. He stood at the quarry's entrance, gazing at a pile of perfectly harmless, grey construction stones. He whimpered, "They’re staring at me! I can feel their jagged judgment!"
Barnaby, having reached the limit of his patience, handed Bartholomew a pair of enormous, padded mittens and a pair of dark sunglasses. "You are now carrying them in an act of courageous transportation, not fear. They can’t hurt you if you can't feel them, or look them in their stony little eyes."
Reluctantly, Bartholomew put on the gear. He picked up the first stone, yelped, and promptly dropped it. But then he saw the determination in Barnaby's eyes. Taking a deep breath, he picked up a second stone with his padded mittens. It felt soft and warm, just like a piece of bread, thanks to the padding. He couldn't see its sharp edges through the dark lenses.
To everyone's surprise, Bartholomew spent the entire day carefully and fearfully hauling the rocks. He didn't run. He didn't scream. He just whimpered softly while carrying them and set them down with the delicacy of a kitten. The wall was built in record time, becoming the most gentle-proof wall in the entire kingdom.
Bartholomew never fully lost his fear of sharp pebbles, but he discovered that his true strength lay not in ignoring his fear, but in padding his hands and squinting a lot. The village, recognising his unique talent, gave him a new, perfect job: Chief Soft-Ground Paving Consultant, ensuring that all future paths were made exclusively of perfectly smooth, non-threatening dirt. And every evening, he would sit proudly on the soft earth next to his new, gently built wall, happily polishing his anti-rock mittens.
The end.
