I thought I had life all figured out. Money, comfort, no hard work. I never had to struggle, never had to sweat for anything. But then my dad snapped.
One moment, I was wrapped in my warm bed, lost in a deep sleep. The next, I was stranded in the middle of nowhere—dumped like an unwanted package in the mountains. No phone signal. No way out. Just an old wooden house and a lesson I never saw coming.
I was sleeping like a rock, completely unaware of the world around me, when—WHOOSH! The curtains flew open.
A sharp screech of metal against the curtain rod, and then—BAM!
Sunlight exploded into the room, blinding me instantly. It burned through my eyelids, yanking me out of sleep like an alarm I couldn’t shut off.
“What the—?” I groaned, fumbling for my pillow to cover my face.
“Get up,” my dad’s voice boomed through the room, thick with disappointment.
I cracked one eye open, barely making out his silhouette against the harsh sunlight. His arms were crossed, his stance firm. This wasn’t good.
“Dad?” I croaked. “What the hell?”
He took a step closer, his face stony. “You sleep like a king,” he snapped. “Meanwhile, when I was your age, I was busting my ass working day and night. You think life is a joke, don’t you?”
I rubbed my eyes, trying to shake off the grogginess. Here we go again. Another lecture.
“You get fired from jobs I hand to you,” he went on, his voice growing sharper. “You walk around like the world owes you something. And I’m sick of it.”
I sighed and sat up, stretching my arms lazily. “Dad, come on. Poor life isn’t for me. I was born to be rich.”
His nostrils flared. I smirked, enjoying the reaction.
“If you’d had money back then,” I continued, “you’d have been just like me.”
His jaw clenched so tight I thought his teeth might snap. But then something shifted. His anger didn’t explode like I expected. Instead, he took a slow step back and shook his head, as if making a decision in real-time.
“Fine,” he said, his voice eerily calm. “You want to see how real men live? You’ll get your chance.”
I let out a dry laugh. “Oh yeah? And what, you’re gonna teach me some big, tough life lesson?”
He didn’t smile.
“No,” he said simply. “He will.”
A strange knot twisted in my stomach. I should have known—when my dad stopped yelling and got quiet—that I was in real trouble.
The engine’s low rumble faded into the distance, swallowed by the endless stretch of trees. My dad’s car was already a blur through the dust cloud it kicked up.
“Dad!” I bolted forward, gravel crunching beneath my sneakers. “You can’t just leave me here!”
A single hand popped out the driver’s window, giving me a lazy wave. “Follow the path. You’ll find the house.”
And just like that, he was gone.
I stood there, stunned, watching the dust settle. Silence wrapped around me, thick and absolute. No cars. No voices. Not even the distant hum of the city I was used to. Just the whisper of wind through the towering pines.
I yanked out my phone. No service.
Of course.
I exhaled sharply, muttering a string of curses. “Fantastic. Just fantastic.”
With no other choice, I started walking. The dirt path twisted through the dense forest like a snake, uneven and endless.
The sun beat down relentlessly, sweat trickling down my neck. Mosquitoes swarmed me within minutes, buzzing in my ears, biting my arms, my neck, my hands.
“Seriously?” I groaned, swatting them away.
By the time I spotted the house, my once-white sneakers were caked in mud and dust, my legs sore from walking.
The wooden cabin sat nestled between the trees, looking ancient. The porch sagged slightly in the middle, and the windows were smudged with dust and rain streaks.
I didn’t care how it looked. I stumbled forward, shoving the door open. The first thing I noticed was the smell—warm, rich food. My stomach clenched painfully.
On the table sat a bowl of soup, fresh bread, thick slices of roasted meat, and a glass of what looked like homemade juice.
I didn’t think. I just moved. I collapsed into the chair, grabbed a piece of bread, and tore into it like a starved animal.
Then—
“You didn’t even wash your hands.”
I choked, spinning around so fast my chair scraped against the wooden floor.
A man stood in the doorway.
Tall. Bearded. His face was lined like tree bark, his clothes rough and faded. He looked like he belonged to the mountains. Like he was the mountain.
I swallowed hard. “Uh—I was hungry.”
He stepped forward, his boots heavy against the wood. “And rude, too.”
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “Who are you?”
The man smirked. “That’s a better question, boy.”
I frowned. “My dad sent me here. Said you’d teach me something.”
The old man studied me, then chuckled dryly. “This is gonna be fun.”
The next morning, I woke up aching. Every muscle in my body screamed. The stiff wooden bed didn’t help, and the thin blanket barely kept out the cold.
Back home, I would’ve sunk into my soft mattress, scrolled my phone, and ignored the world. Here? No such luck.
Outside, the rhythmic thunk, thunk, thunk of an axe splitting wood echoed through the air.
Dragging myself out of bed, I stumbled onto the porch. There he was—Jack. The old man moved with steady rhythm, his arms strong despite his age.
“Listen,” I said, trying to sound reasonable. “I get it. Hard work, money isn’t everything, blah blah. Just tell my dad I’ve changed so I can go home.”
Jack didn’t even pause. He just let out a rough laugh and shook his head. “Nice try, kid.”
Frustrated, I pulled out cash. “What if I pay you?”
Jack’s expression darkened. Without a word, he grabbed the money, walked to the river, and tossed it in.
“ARE YOU INSANE?!” I shouted.
Jack turned to me, his voice steady. “You think money solves everything?”
I clenched my fists. “Yeah, actually, I do.”
Jack smirked, then kicked an axe toward my feet. “Then let’s see how much your money helps you chop wood.”
That night, as I collapsed at the dinner table, my body aching, I finally understood. I picked up the bread and ate slowly. It wasn’t just food. It was earned.
My eyes drifted to a dusty photo on the shelf. A younger Jack stood beside someone I knew—my father.
I shot up. “Wait—you’re my grandfather?”
Jack took a slow sip of his drink. “Took you long enough.”
For the first time in my life, I understood what real wealth felt like.
