The Story of the Unlucky Days

The Story of the Unlucky Days

At the edge of a village, where the wide steppe began beyond the last cottages, two brothers lived.

The elder brother had good land, full storehouses, and a large yard. But luck never seemed to smile on the younger. No matter how hard he worked from dawn until dusk, either the harvest failed, the roof leaked, or the last sack of grain had to be given away to pay a debt.

Yet what saddened him most was not poverty, but his brother’s coldness.

One day the younger brother came to the elder’s house just as the family was sitting down to dinner.

“Sit with us,” the lady of the house was about to say, but the elder brother frowned.

“This is not an inn. Go to the field instead and chase the crows away from the grain.”

The younger brother said nothing. He only nodded and went beyond the village.

He sat at the edge of the field, watched the black crows, and thought, “Will life always be like this? I work and try, yet it is as if a whole string of unlucky days walks behind me.”

Suddenly an old raven left the flock, settled nearby, and spoke in a human voice.

“Perhaps the trouble is not in you, man. Sometimes you do not need to pull an old cart harder. Sometimes you need to choose another road.”

The younger brother stood up.

“What should I do, then?”

“Try making a new beginning somewhere else. Do not be afraid of the road.”

The man returned home and told his wife everything that had happened. They gathered their few belongings, called the children, and set out for a neighbouring village.

They walked over the steppe for a long time. The sun rose, bent toward the horizon, and the road stretched on ahead.

Then the man felt as if someone were tugging at his old bag. He looked back and saw a whole company of little grey creatures in long cloaks scurrying behind him.

“Who are you?” he asked in surprise.

“We are your Unlucky Days,” they whispered all together. “Monday, when the wheel broke. Tuesday, when the hen vanished. Wednesday, when the roof leaked. And many, many more. We are always with you!”

“No,” said the man. “I did not invite you into my new life.”

But the Unlucky Days only clung more tightly.

When the family reached a river, the man sat down to drink. Then a clever thought came to him.

“If you are to be my companions,” he said to the grey creatures, “help me check whether my leather bag is sound. Climb inside and tell me whether there is a hole.”

The Unlucky Days were very proud of how numerous they were, so all of them climbed in together.

“It is crowded in here!”

“Move over!”

“Do not push me!”

When the last one had disappeared into the bag, the man quickly tied it shut and hid it beneath the roots of an old willow.

“Sit here for a while,” he said. “Perhaps you will rest from me.”

And the family went on.

In the neighbouring village they found an abandoned cottage. It was old but sturdy. The man repaired the roof, his wife washed the windows, and the children tidied the yard. Little by little, life began to improve.

One evening, a strange voice called from the direction of the hill.

“Hello! Who will help me? Who will help me?”

The man took a rope and followed the sound. On the slope stood a curious old goat with enormous horns. He had become tangled among the rocks and could not get free.

“Do not be afraid,” said the man. “We will try to help you.”

He looped the rope carefully so that he would not hurt the animal, and led him down.

But the moment they reached the yard, the goat vanished. From the attic came the sound of coins raining down. There was not an endless amount, nor a mountain of treasure, but enough for the family to buy seed, a pair of good oxen, repair the cottage, and begin farming without debt.

“Magic!” cried the children.

“Perhaps it is magic,” their father said with a smile. “Or perhaps it is a reward for not walking past someone who needed help.”

The family did not become lazy because of their unexpected good fortune. On the contrary, they worked harder still. From their first harvest, they saved grain for the next year, sold some, and shared some with neighbours who were having a hard time.

Several years passed. The younger brother now had a neat yard, an orchard, and a full storehouse. But his door remained open to guests.

Then he remembered his elder brother.

“We should invite him to visit,” he told his wife. “Perhaps it is time to forget the old hurt.”

He sent messengers with an invitation.

On the way, the elder brother heard that the younger now lived well, and instead of feeling happy for him, he felt a sharp envy in his heart.

“How did he, a poor man, manage to rise?” he muttered. “He must have found some treasure.”

At the table, the younger brother told him the whole story: the raven, the road, the Unlucky Days in the bag, and the strange goat after whom the coins had appeared.

The elder brother listened very carefully. But he heard nothing about the courage to begin again, the hard work, or helping others. He heard only one thing: somewhere by the river, a bag was hidden.

“And what is in that bag?” he asked.

The younger brother smiled.

“What I once decided to leave behind. I do not think you need it.”

But envy gave the elder brother no peace.

That night he rose quietly, found the old willow by the river, and began to dig. Before long his spade struck the leather bag.

“Here is the secret of his wealth,” whispered the elder brother.

He untied the knot.

Out of the bag jumped the Unlucky Days, coughing, sneezing, and arguing with one another.

“At last!” they cried. “Who has let us out?”

“I have,” the elder brother answered uncertainly.

“Then we will go with you!”

They clung to his coat, his boots, and his belt. One sat on his cap, another hung from his sleeve, and a third climbed into his pocket.

From then on, everything on the elder brother’s farm seemed to go crookedly. One day the wind tore off part of the roof. Another day sacks of grain were soaked by rain. Then the old cart broke.

And each time the grey creatures giggled.

“We told you: we are Unlucky Days!”

At first the elder brother was angry with everyone around him. Then he understood that the more he raged, hoarded, and envied, the louder they laughed.

At last he went to the younger brother.

“Help me,” he asked. “I thought your bag held treasure, but I found nothing but troubles.”

The younger brother did not reproach him.

“I once thought all my misfortunes came only from outside,” he said. “Then I understood that there are things we cannot change, but we can choose what to do next. Begin by stopping the counting of other people’s good fortune.”

The elder brother went home. The next day he repaired a neighbour’s fence without asking for payment. Then he shared seed with a widow whose storehouse had become empty. Later, he made peace with people he had offended.

And a strange thing happened. The Unlucky Days began to grow smaller and smaller.

“We are bored here now,” they grumbled.

The first vanished when the elder brother learned to share. The second vanished when he asked forgiveness. The third vanished when he began working instead of complaining. The last sat on the fence for a long time, swinging his legs. At last he said, “Oh, you are no fun at all now.”

And he too melted into the morning mist.

From then on, the brothers lived nearby and often helped one another. They did not become equally rich, and their days did not become equally easy. But both knew that luck may come and go, while kindness, work, and generosity depend on each person.

And no one ever looked for the old leather bag by the river again.

For the best treasure had proved to be nothing that could be dug up from beneath the roots of a tree.

May this story leave a little light in your heart ✨