The Tale of the King of Corn: A Story of Greed and Wisdom

Once upon a time, in a distant land surrounded by lush forests and fertile soil, there lived a bright, ambitious boy named Edwin. From an early age, Edwin dreamed of becoming not just any farmer but the greatest farmer the land had ever seen. Farming was the lifeblood of his family — his father, grandfather, and countless ancestors had all tilled the same soil for generations, raising crops with care, wisdom, and tradition.

His family lived by the old ways, taught by nature and honed through centuries. They practiced crop rotation, a method where fields were planted with different crops each year to keep the soil healthy and balanced. Corn was always a family specialty — their corn was the talk of the markets, prized for its golden sheen and sweet, hearty taste. But corn was planted sparingly, rotated with beans, oats, and other crops to maintain the land’s vitality.

Edwin, however, was not content with small fields of corn. As he grew older and cleverer, he saw the wealth corn could bring. Each time he sold their prized corn, the coins gleamed like captured stars, and in them, Edwin saw power and fortune. His mind, once open to the harmony of farming, began to twist with dreams of gold.

One evening, under a sky freckled with stars, Edwin asked his aging father,

“Father, why not plant corn on every acre we have? Just one year! Think of the riches we could reap.”

His father, a weathered but wise man, shook his head.

“Son, corn is greedy. It drains the earth and gives little back. We plant carefully, not just for gold, but for life. To take care of the land is to ensure our future.”

But the glint of gold was already too bright in Edwin’s mind. Years passed, and as his father grew blind and deaf with age, Edwin’s greed overcame his caution. One spring, Edwin planted the entire farm with corn — every field, every clearing, even patches of forest were cleared to make way for more corn. He lied to his father, assuring him everything was as it should be.

“All is well, Father. The crops grow strong,” he said, hiding the truth behind his father’s blindness.

Neighbors peered over fences, shaking their heads.

“Mark my words,” they muttered, “planting nothing but corn will ruin the land.”

But Edwin dismissed them as fools, barring them from visiting. His corn grew tall and abundant, swaying like a golden sea under the sun. When harvest came, Edwin was hailed as a genius. Truckloads of corn were sent to market, earning him a fortune. Other farmers, struggling to compete, sold their land to Edwin — soon, he owned more land than anyone in the region.

People started calling him the King Farmer, a title he proudly embraced.

The following year, Edwin, now the King Farmer, planted corn again — on every inch of his expanded lands. Again, the harvest was rich. Again, his coffers filled with gold. But if anyone had looked closely, they would have noticed that the fields planted with corn for multiple years in a row grew weaker, the stalks thinner, the leaves paler.

Still, no one questioned the King. His wealth grew, his land stretched to the horizon, and the people feasted on corn — corn bread, corn stew, corn liquor. Corn became everything, and with each season, the people grew fat, lazy, and complacent, content in their King’s bounty.

But deep in the shadows, the old nay-sayers watched. They whispered warnings that the soil would soon be barren, but their voices were ignored. In fact, the King ordered the nay-sayers banished, cast away to sea like bones of ancestors once buried in the land.

Then came the third year.

That summer, the crops on the original family land — the land first subjected to nonstop corn planting — began to wither. Stalks yellowed, ears were stunted, kernels turned black with rot. A blight had taken hold.

At first, the King blamed the banished nay-sayers, accusing them of sabotage. But the truth was undeniable: the land itself was dying, stripped of nutrients, unable to sustain the greedy crop any longer.

By the fourth year, the blight spread. Every field, even the newer lands, began to fail. Panic spread faster than the rot. Without corn, there was no food, no income. The fat bellies began to shrink. The people cried for help, but the King had no answers. In desperation, they wished to find the banished nay-sayers, hoping they held the old wisdom to save the land.

So, the King Farmer, along with a fleet of small boats filled with desperate followers, set sail to find the exiled wise folk. But without maps, without stars to guide them, they became lost at sea, separated by storms and currents. No one ever saw them again.

Some say the King’s ghost ship still roams the ocean, with its passengers eternally dreaming of fields of corn that once brought them glory.

Back on land, nature began to reclaim the dead fields. Trees sprouted, wildflowers bloomed, and animals returned. In time, new farmers came — ones who remembered the old ways of balance, respect, and harmony with the earth.

Moral of the Story

Greed blinds even the wisest of us. The earth provides generously, but only if treated with care and respect. Shortcuts for profit can lead to ruin, but wisdom and patience ensure prosperity for generations.