Thief or Lover?

They say whoever invented the window was either a thief or a lover.

What do you think?

Isn’t it facinating to imagine the story behind the invention of windows for houses? A story not related to construction or decoration, but to a person who, once upon a time, was dreaming—seeking something or someone.

Would you like to hear his story? Just keep reading.

Once upon a time, a thief sneaked into an old merchant’s house. He grabbed every piece of gold and silver from each room. The treasure was not much, but enough. As he turned and grasped the handle of the big metal door, he discovered, to his shock and misfortune, that the door was locked—utterly locked—as if it were a secret, magical guradian of the house

The thief knew the merchant was on a short trip to bring his family back home. But, perhaps, someone would come and check on the house, he thought, glancing around, trying to find a way out.

He noticed deep cracks and dampness spreading across the walls. He drew near to the wall next to the door, and pressed his hand against it—it was mushy, like wet mud. The thief laughed, relieved to find his excape. Without hesitation or much toil, he broke a hole in the wall and jumped out of the old house.

He raced against the wind under the starless sky, heading toward the dark woods where no other human dared to live. Panting, he reached a gigantic tree—his camouflage home. He dug a deep hole and hid the treasure beneath it. Breathless and sweating, he threw his weight onto the hard earth and fell asleep for the rest of the night.

With the first light of dawn, as the birds chirped and left their nests, the thief jumped to his feet and hurried to the nearest pond. He washed and put on a clean garment. Laughing, he picked some berries from the trees, devoured them, and headed back to the city. From now on, he would live a new life as an honourable man.

The market was buzzing with one story—the robbery of the merchant’s house. The thief drew closer to a group of men and introduced himself as another victim of the same thief.

‘But I can fix the wall. I am a builder, and I need money to go back to my city.’ He had woven a good story, hadn’the?

The men took him to the old merchant, who—without a second thought, agreed to the poor builder’s deal.

Over the following days, the thief transformed the hole in the wall into a beautiful, wooden window. The merchant’s oldest daughter loved the new creation and often sneaked behind it to catch a glimpse of the builder as he made windows for other houses.

The builder became well-acquainted with most of the people in the city. His window-making business flourished, and he earned a lot of money. He was aware of the merchant’s daughter’s long waits behind the window, watching him working around. He also knew of her father’s abundant wealth. The girl was beautiful—so beautiful— but he had robbed her father. What if the merchant discovered the truth one day? He fell asleep with that thought echoing in his ears.

That night, he had a dream—a strange dream.

He was in a different land, among different people, surrounded by beautiful houses with so many windows. As he walked along, he heard people talking about the two lovers who had just died. Curious, he moved closer to two men sitting on a bench by a fountain in the middle of the road. They didn’t seem to notice him. Was he invisible? A ghost? His heart pounded hard in his chest as he dropped onto the other end of the bench.

‘Romeo killed himself, and Juliet followed suit. Or was it the other way round? One of the two men broke the news. The other gasped, and the thief felt his heart in his throat.

‘I used to see them every day, laughing and singing to each other. She shone like a blooming rose in the big window, and he stood below in the garden, full of pride, crowing day and night like a young rooster.’ The first man said, the other sighed, and the thief nearly fainted.

‘But of course, her father would’ve never let her marry one of his family’s enemies— someone who was only after his wealth and money,’  the first man explained, the second nodded, and the thief died

‘Oh no, oh no, I don’t want to marry her,’ the thief screamed and woke up.

The next day, he packed, thanked his host, dug up his treasure, and fled for his life.

Years later, the wise said that true love comes from front doors, not windows. If only those wise ones had known more, they would have added and neither does it come from social media!

Did you like my story? Try and write yours!

With hope and peace,

Nahla