The Big Orange Tiger: A Tale of Power and Consequence

Once upon a time, in a quiet countryside where green fields swayed under blue skies, a big orange tiger roamed, his stripes bold as flames and his eyes sharp as a hunter’s moon. Day after day, he chased deer, rabbits, and wild pigs, but the hunt was tiring, and many nights he lay under the cold stars with an empty stomach, growling softly to himself.

One morning, as he licked dew from the grass, the tiger had an idea. “Why work so hard when others can feed me?” he thought.

With his belly rumbling, the big orange tiger wandered into a village, his paws silent but his presence loud. “I am hungry!” he roared, shaking doors and rattling windows.

Terrified, the villagers hid in their homes, peeking through cracks in fear.

But the big orange tiger sat calmly in the village square, his tail flicking, and smiled, showing his sharp white teeth. “If you feed me, I will let you ride on my back. I am the biggest, orangest, and kindest tiger in the land. I only eat those who deserve it.”

The villagers peeked out, whispering among themselves. “Perhaps he could help us get rid of those in the next village,” they said. “They speak strangely, and we’ve always found them odd.”

So they led the tiger across the hills to the neighboring village, where people spoke with different accents and sang songs the first villagers did not understand. The big orange tiger, with a grin, ate them all, one by one, while the villagers cheered.

When the feast was done, the tiger curled up under the sun, his belly round, and fell asleep. The villagers, seeing the empty homes, moved in and took what they liked, claiming it was rightfully theirs since “those people didn’t need it anymore.”

“Now you may ride on my back,” the tiger said when he woke, stretching lazily.

Some villagers climbed up, laughing and pointing, feeling tall and powerful from their new seat. Riding the tiger made them feel strong, like kings of the land.

But before long, the tiger roared again, louder than before. “I am hungry! Find me more to eat!”

The villagers had discovered they liked riding the tiger. It made them feel important, as if they were part of something greater. They whispered, “He only eats those we tell him to, so there’s nothing to fear.”

“There is another village over the hills,” they told the tiger. “They are lazy and don’t work as hard as we do. They deserve to be eaten.”

The tiger’s eyes gleamed as he padded off, with the villagers still clinging to his back. He devoured the next village, their homes left empty, their voices silenced forever.

The villagers cheered and took everything they could carry, telling themselves, “We can get off anytime we want. The tiger listens to us.” Some even painted themselves orange, hoping to please the tiger and prove their loyalty.

They held meetings while sitting on the tiger’s back, deciding who else deserved to be eaten. “Those who think they are smarter than us! They should be next!” one man declared, and the others nodded in agreement.

When the tiger woke, he didn’t even need to ask. The villagers had already gathered the people they envied, those who read books or spoke of ideas, and offered them to the tiger.

The big orange tiger ate them, too, while the villagers clapped and danced on his back, celebrating how much “better” their village had become.

“Now we have everything we want,” they said. “No strange talkers, no lazy people, no one who thinks they’re better. All is perfect!”

A village leader stood tall on the tiger’s broad back. “Now we can ask him to leave,” he announced. “We have nothing left to give him. We can finally return to our homes.”

They voted, and everyone agreed.

As the tiger yawned, the leader leaned down and spoke into his ear, “Thank you, great tiger. You may leave now. We wish to get down.”

The tiger calmly licked his paws. “You may get down if you like,” he purred.

“You won’t eat us, will you?” a villager asked nervously.

“I am not hungry at the moment,” the tiger replied, stretching.

“And you will leave now, right?” the villagers pressed.

The tiger’s amber eyes glowed as he shook himself, the villagers clutching at his fur to avoid falling. “Why would I leave?” he asked, flicking his tail.

“There’s no one left to eat!” the villagers shouted.

The tiger gave a toothy grin. “Then I suppose I will just wait here. You are welcome to stay on my back,” he said softly, “for as long as you can.”

And so the villagers remained on the tiger’s back, clutching him tightly, realizing too late that a tiger who is fed the taste of power and fear never leaves, and those who ride him can never climb down without being devoured.

Moral of the Story

Feeding hatred and fear to gain power may seem easy, but in the end, it will consume you, too.