There was once a little old woodsman, in his mid 80’s, he was a Lonesome old man.  He had a tiny shack made of twigs mud and bark.  The man would fish in the morning, and collect water that he would boil to make it pure for drinking; He made things out of wood that he would chop every day.  The man was a good craftsman.  He had statues and trinkets, that he made himself.  He also built furniture like shelves and chests to keep the things that he made in.  He used more than wood in a lot of things he made.  See, the man would drive to a small town once a month to sell things he made and buy bits of metal and plastic, as well as other things that he could use to live on and build with.  He was good at what he did and loved doing it but the man was lonely, the man had no one to talk with even when he would go into town they never said much to him, they would just give him what he asked for and take what he was offering.  Except for the occasional chit chat about the weather..  He had been alone for some time  He had been alone since his wife left him for another woodsman, he was deeply troubled by this and it affected his every day life.  The only thing he could do to keep his mind off her was to make the statues.  After years of making hundreds of the trinkets, and things, he still felt the emptiness created by the absence of her love.  Until one day…

              He got an idea, he thought to him self, I will create a friend that I can love and talk with that will love me back.  He tried and tried and then tried again, to make someone that would be true and honest and be with him till the end of his days.  He worked long and hard day after day until he finally finished.  His friend was tall, pale, and looked like a turtle.  His friend had a dead stare and looked at the old man as if pondering who he was.  The man then said to his new friend I am Jebous, I made you to be my friend.  His creation did nothing.  He then said to his creation, you are Tate, wont you talk to me.  Again the creature just sat there motionless. The guy then nudged Tate, but nothing.  The guy began to become upset, he felt angry at himself and then sad because he failed.  He then began to feel lonely again.  Jebous started crying and soon his crying turned to out right Sobbing, he cried and cried and soon he could not cry anymore, for he had cried his eyes dry, and he went to sleep, he slept for days.  His tears had fallen on the floor, on his bed, on cabinets and other things around the house.  There wasn’t a spot in his little cottage that had not felt the tiny droplets of sadness that his eyes poured out.