A Most Unfortunate Turn of Events

Once upon a time…many, many years ago in a world long since forgotten, there was a country called Anywhere. And in the land of Anywhere there was a fine and prosperous city called Anyplace and in this bustling city there lived a Successful And Entrepreneurial Young Man. At the age of just twenty-seven this young man had already established a highly successful business manufacturing and distributing handbags and briefcases. The Young Man had a Sharp Eye for Style And Fashion, and what was more, he was a shrewd Self-Publicist and his products (which also had the Unique Selling Point and Added Bonus of being the only handbags and briefcases on the market made from Finest Troll Skin) quickly became Quite The Thing To Have For Celebrities and the Young And Fashionable.
     The Young Man soon became wealthy and bought himself a Lovely Home in the Finest Part Of Town. He enjoyed a Lavish Lifestyle and an Exciting Social Life and came to accrue to himself Considerable Social Standing: no Party or Social Event was properly important unless he was attending.
     Now in the land of Anywhere, the fifth day after the Faerie Solstice is National Troll Day. This day is not a celebration of Trolls (for Trolls are widely Feared And Despised throughout the land of Anywhere) but rather a celebration of the Battle Of Troll Field, a battle that had taken place some 300 years previously: the culmination of Centuries Of Conflict between people and Trolls in which a Huge Defeat with Massive Loss Of Life was inflicted upon the Troll Population (some might refer to it as a calculated act of genocide, part of a continuing plan to displace the Troll population from Anywhere and steal their land for Development Purposes, but who am I to comment). This famous battle marked the end of Troll Dominance in Anywhere, though the “troublesome” beasts were still a cause of mischief and objects of Fear And Loathing.
     The Battle Of Troll Field is celebrated every National Troll Day in the city of Anyplace with a barbaric, dramatic and stunning spectacle: The Running Of The Trolls. This involves taking six captured Trolls and letting them free in the streets of Anyplace. To ensure that the Trolls are not too formidable, before they are released they are drugged and their kneecaps shattered with iron bars. In front of them runs a brave (perhaps foolhardy) group of young men and women who taunt the Trolls and tempt them down a pre-defined route, lined with crowds, which leads to a large stadium where, in front of a huge number of enthusiastic spectators, the Trolls will be further baited, stabbed, beaten and finally killed. I agree that this does sound a rather Repugnant Spectacle but before you Throw Stones In Glass Houses, remember that in the land of Anywhere Trolls are regarded as animals and look how you treat animals in your own world.
     One particular year, our Successful Young Man (Shrewd Self-Publicist that he was) decided that it would be a Public Relations Coup if he were to Run With The Trolls.
 
     And so he did. Sadly though, there would be a Most Ironic And Unfortunate Turn Of Events.
 
     Amongst the crowd running from the Trolls that day was a young lady who had, just the week previous, purchased a fine Troll skin handbag, manufactured by our very own Successful Young Man’s company. She was so proud of her new handbag that she had, probably ill-advisedly, brought it with her to the Running Of The Trolls. She had been told that the Trolls would be drugged, that their kneecaps would be broken. Imagine her surprise then when, despite their impediments, the Trolls turned out to still be very fast-moving, and very vicious looking!
     Now before you say, “hah, what a silly woman,” you should be aware what a Troll actually looks like. Trolls, be they male or female, are nearly (to use a unit of measure you would understand in your world) ten feet tall. They are Broad And Massively Muscled. Like people they stand on two legs and have two arms and one head, eyes, a (very large) nose and a mouth. Unlike people they are covered from head to foot in thick golden fur and sport upon their heads (both sexes alike) a pair of fine, curved horns. It is also worth pointing out that male Trolls are Massively Well-Hung and female Trolls have Exceptionally Firm And Large Breasts.
     With that vison in your mind, you can now understand that, in a panic, the poor lady had to concede that her gorgeous new handbag would slow her down, and, as she ran, she threw it to the ground.
     Irony of ironies! Who should be running behind the Panicked Lady but our Successful Young Man. The discarded handbag, made of finest Troll Skin, tangled between his legs and pitched him to the ground. Within seconds the crowd of Enraged And Goaded Trolls fell upon him, stamping upon and kicking his prone figure, goring him with their vicious horns and otherwise delivering An Almighty Beating.
     Fortunately for our Young Man, Trolls are (like teenagers in your world), by nature, creatures with a Very Short Attention Span and after a few seconds of beating him, they tired of the activity and continued pursuing the crowd.
 
     But in those few seconds the Trolls had done Dreadful Damage to the Successful Young Man’s body.
 
     He would make a full (physical) recovery, but it would require the detailed attention of the Finest Physicians in the land of Anywhere and a stay in hospital that lasted six months.
     During that time the Young Man was unable to attend to his Business Affairs and had to give the running of his business over to his second-in-command. Sadly, this gentleman, this second-in-command, was simply Not Up To The Job. Sales leads were left un-chased and orders not supplied as new stocks of Troll skin were not purchased in a Timely Fashion.
     Sensing Weakness And Opportunity, one of the ruthless and incredibly wealthy families from The Greedy One Percent set up their own business manufacturing and distributing Troll skin handbags and briefcases. They used their amazing wealth to follow aggressive policies of Predatory Pricing and Cross Subsidy and soon had driven the Successful Young Man’s products from the marketplace.
     To cut a long story short: by the time the Young Man left hospital he was completely bankrupt. He had lost everything. His business had folded and his home had, in a further irony, been repossessed by the bank that was owned by the same Greedy One Percent family that had gone into the Troll Skin bags business.
     Deserted by his friends (for No-One, as you say in your world, Likes A Loser), reduced to claiming Government Benefits and living back with his parents, our not-very-Successful Young Man plunged into a Deep Depression from which he Could Not Be Roused.
     Look at him! He had lost everything. He had had it all and now he had nothing. All he had had was lost forever. He would never have it back. He would never be successful again, he would never be wealthy again, he would never be respected again and he would never respect himself again. He would never be happy again. And all because he had tripped over one of his own handbags! His life had been fabulous and then, bang, one random, silly occurrence and all had been taken from him. A few seconds, one incident, a ruined life. How unjust, how unfair!
     
     After months of brooding, terrible, soul-eating despair the Young Man finally concluded that he had Nothing Left To Live For and that he would kill himself.
     
     One morning he left the home of his parents early and went to a nearby market and used some of his meagre Government Benefit money to purchase a length of stout rope, with which he planned to hang himself.
     Now in the city Of Anyplace there is a beautiful park; indeed it’s generally held to be the most beautiful in the entire land of Anywhere. It is, in fact, the very same park where, many years previously, the Much Revered And Famous Ragged Man had sang his entrancing Song Of Sad And Enduring Loss which had almost caused a Revolution.
     The Young Man made his way to this famous park and, once inside, headed for a secluded area he remembered from being a child, where he knew there was a tall and strong tree, under which he had played, deriving Great Enjoyment. It was from this tree, under which he had once been so happy, that he would hang himself and choke away the Miserable Remnants of his Miserable Life.
     By and by, the Young Man arrived at his Hanging Tree. Sitting beneath it, he began to tie a noose in the stout length of rope he had bought. As he did so he cried silently, mourning a life lost, taken away by one swift Inexplicable And Unfortunate Incident.
     But our tale is not yet told. For in the vicinity of the Young Man was a Faerie. Faeries, as you know, can be very good or Mischievous Little Tinkers. There’s simply no telling how they’ll act in any given situation; they are very powerful little creatures and utterly unpredictable, which is why all sensible people avoid them as they would a Troll With A Toothache. What you will also know about Faeries is that they are drawn to strong emotions like a moth to a flame: from misery to exultation, it’s all like nectar to them and anywhere there is strong emotion they are likely to pop up.
     Which is exactly what this Faerie did. Sensing the Young Man’s Misery she popped right up. One minute she was in a completely different part of the park, the next, pop, she was right there by the Young Man’s left shoulder, fluttering away with her Silken Wings and Peering Down at the Young Man, quizzically.
     At this point, fortune, for the first time in many months, smiled down on the Young Man. For this Faerie, this exact Faerie, was in a very good mood. She had been in the park that morning having a bit of a breather, for earlier that day she had given a particularly Double-Edged Faerie Gift to a Particularly Unpleasant Man (a very greedy and nasty Buy To Let Landlord), which always counts as a good day’s work in any Faerie’s book. Looking down on the Young Man she saw not only him, but deep into his Soul and the Misery And Despair it held and the Unfortunate Events that had befallen the Young Man played out in her mind. In seconds (and this is an ability shared by all Faeries and is another reason to always treat them with caution and respect) she knew what was in his soul, his heart, what had happened to him, what could happen to him and what would happen to him. Being in a happy frame of mind, a sort of post child-theft warm glow, she determined that, upon this occasion, she would use her powers for good, without any hint of Mischievous Tinkery (well, almost…) whatsoever, and would help the Formerly Successful Young Man.
     Her decision made, the Faerie told the Young Man to stop tying his noose and look at her. Looking up, the Young Man saw the Faerie at his shoulder, but was not alarmed: what was there to be scared of anymore, he was going to die after all? Nevertheless, he did feel compelled to put down his rope and give his full attention to the Faerie.
     The Faerie explained to the Young Man that what had happened to him was, indeed, sad and tragic. But it was certainly no reason to kill himself. The trouble with humans is that they lack perspective on life, which, she explained, is probably due to the fact they don’t live very long, unlike Faeries who live 897 years and 13 days and so have the time to become wiser about these things. Humans, she continued, just don’t understand that a basic principle of The Universe is Duality: nothing (and nobody) is entirely good or entirely bad, good can come from bad and bad from good. Furthermore, they don’t grasp the idea that there is a life that was, a life that may have been, a life that is and a life that could be.
     At this point the Young Man looked somewhat confused so, on the basis that a picture is worth a thousand words, the Faerie decided to show him what she was talking about. She took a deep breath, paused and blew out. From her mouth streamed a Fine, Golden Mist. The mist gathered around the Young Man’s head and soon he could see nothing but sparkling gold, but then this resolved itself into a series of fast moving pictures. The Young Man saw himself at the Running Of The Trolls and Shivered Internally as he saw himself being beaten and broken, then things changed; he was back at The Running Of The Trolls but this time he was leaving the stadium, hale and hearty, with friends, going on to a bar to celebrate their Adventure. But in the bar Things Turn Ugly. He gets into a fight with another man; the man is an unpleasant, violent Sociopath: a Banker. In the course of the fight the Banker sticks a broken bottle into the Young Man’s throat and he bleeds to death there, on a dirty bar-room floor. The picture changes again and the Young Man is filled with bottomless sadness as he sees himself hanging, dead, at the end of the rope which is lying in his lap. There is one final change of scene and the Young Man is striding away from the tree, has chosen to live. He has realised that there is a gap in the market for Environmentally Friendly, Organic, Troll Cruelty-Free purses and wallets woven from finest Troll Fur. The Young Man now realises what a Gross Barbarity (for the Faerie was a bit Mischievous after all and gave our young man a touch of the most barbed Faerie gift of all…Insight) it was to kill Trolls to make handbags from their skin. Trolls shed vast amounts of fur on a daily basis. For a small sum he could buy vast amounts of the stuff from the Troll Community. His new business could then have the Unique Selling Proposition of not only supplying an Amazing And Beautiful Product but also of fostering New Understanding between humans and Trolls. Why, he could even have the business reinvest a percentage of its profits into improving Community Facilities for Trolls: a move that would be charitable, a penance for the evil of his previous business and a Shrewd Piece Of Public Relations considering the Well-Educated, Environmentally Aware Social Group he intended to aim his products at!  
     And so our soon to be successful again Young Man leaves that place where he (had the Blind Old Weaver Of Fate spun different threads that day) would have ended his life at the end of a rope healthy and happy. He gets a small loan from his parents and goes on to found a Troll Fur wallet and purse Empire, he becomes even wealthier than before, marries well and has beautiful children and a happy life.
 
     Oftentimes the Young Man (and later, the Old Man), would reflect on what the Faerie had shown him that day, the day he Chose Not To Die. If he had not been so severely beaten at the Running Of The Trolls, he would have been murdered in a bar by a Sociopathic Banker. He may have lost a fortune, but he gained another chance at life, and a life not based on Barbaric Cruelty but Honest Industry. Not everything in life is good but that doesn’t mean that good will not ultimately come from it: sometimes in life things that glitter turn out to be dirt, and dirt can turn out to be gold. Nothing is entirely good, but nothing is entirely bad. Only God knows these things, and sometimes even He is not Completely Sure.