The Wishing Well is part of a collection of children’s stories (of
the same name) that are very popular in the Lone City, particularly the Marsh.
For Violet, it has always symbolized her father, as he used to read it to her
when he would come home from work. The Wishing Well tells the tale of
two sisters, gifted with one wish each after saving a water-spirit, and how
those wishes change their lives.
Once, in a time long, long ago,
there were two sisters who lived in a small village by the sea. The elder
sister was raven-haired, with eyes as dark as coals, somber and serious. The
younger was fair, joyful, and quick to laugh, with eyes like fire, a bright and
burning amber.
One day, while on an errand for
their father, the sisters came upon an old well, lonely and forgotten, its
crumbling stones covered with moss. The sisters peered into its depths, but
they could not see the bottom.
“We should drop a coin in,” the
younger sister said. “And see how deep it is.”
“What does it matter how deep it
is?” the elder sister asked. “Besides, that is a shameful waste of gold! Come,
Father will be angry with us if we don’t return soon.”
But the younger sister had already
taken a coin from her pocket. She held it over the opening of the well for a
moment, where it glittered in the sunlight—then it fell, spinning, into
darkness. The sisters listened, but they could not hear the plink of the coin
as it hit the water. There was no sound at all.
“It must be very deep,” the younger
sister said in a hushed voice.
“Nonsense,” the elder sister
scoffed. “It is probably dry, that’s all.”
Suddenly, there was a low rumbling
deep beneath the earth and a thick fountain of water sprayed up out of the
well. Out of that fountain, stepped a water-spirit. Her skin reflected rainbows
in the light, like crystal, and her long hair flowed in golden waves around
her. She was robed in a dress of palest blue, and when she smiled at them, both
sisters felt their knees weaken and their hearts tremble, for she was the most
beautiful creature they had ever seen.
“You have awoken me from a dreamless
slumber,” she said, in a voice as bright and sweet as a bubbling stream, “And
broken the spell cast upon me by an evil man. To thank you, I will grant you
each one wish.”
The elder sister, who had always
thirsted for knowledge and loathed her simple life in the village, spoke first.
“I wish for intelligence surpassing anyone in this world,” she said, “so that I
may create new and wondrous things, and push the boundaries of learning.”
The water-spirit touched one finger
to the girl’s forehead, leaving a shimmering drop of water that wove itself
into strands as fine as gossamer, creating a delicate crown around the girl’s
dark hair. A moment later, the crown dissolved. The elder sister’s wish was
granted.
“And for you?” the water-spirit
asked the younger sister.
The younger sister thought for a
moment, for she was quite content with her life and did not know what might
improve it.
“I would like to be able to speak to
the trees and the stars,” she said shyly. “To listen to the music of the
sunsets, and understand the whispering of the wind, and hear the laughter of a
running brook, so that I might better understand the earth, since it gives so
much of itself to me and my family.”
The water-spirit smiled at her words
and laid a finger against the younger sister’s heart, and the drop of water she
left behind did not change shape, but glittered like a diamond, strong and
pure, until its brightness became overwhelming and the sisters had to look
away. And when they looked back, the drop had vanished. The younger sister’s
wish was granted.
The two sisters returned home and at
once set about using their gifts. The elder sister found she could read twelve
books in one sitting and remember them perfectly. She began to have ideas for
new inventions, and she worked tirelessly to create them. People celebrated her
as a great thinker, and asked her for advice, and plied her with gold to create
mechanical objects that would solve their problems or make their lives easier.
The younger sister, meanwhile, spent
much time alone, wandering the woods and speaking to the trees, or listening to
the waves lapping at the shore, or learning the secrets of the ages from the
stars. And she kept all of their words in her heart, and felt a great peacefulness
inside her, and was content with the beauty of the world.
The sisters grew older. The elder
sister moved away from the village, enticed by the life of the city, bustling
with people, where her inventions and advice were revered, and she quickly became
a wealthy woman of great importance. But the younger sister stayed by the
seaside, and fell in love and married, and continued living a simple life.
Slowly, the elder sister started to
feel that there was never enough—never enough gold, never enough knowledge,
never enough materials to create the wonderful inventions she imagined. And a
darkness grew in her heart when she considered that her sister had a knowledge
that she herself did not, and jealousy began to eat away at her.
So she returned to the village one
night. The younger sister welcomed her with open arms and insisted that she
dine with her and her husband, and their young daughter. Their cottage was
simple but cheerful, as was the dinner, and the elder sister felt her jealousy
writhing like a snake inside her, for how could the younger sister be so happy
when she had nothing? No gold, or jewels, or admiration?
“I wish to ask you for a favor,” the
elder sister said.
“Of course,” the younger sister
replied. “Anything.”
“I wish for you to share your gift
with me,” the elder sister demanded. “I wish to speak to the stars and laugh
with the rivers and hear the quiet words of the wind.”
The younger sister smiled. “Come,”
she said, and led the elder sister outside.
The two sisters reached the edge of
the sea where the waves washed gently against the sand. “The water-spirit
allowed me to converse with the wind and the waves and the stars,” the younger
said, “and that is a gift I cannot share. But anyone can hear them. Listen.
They are always speaking to us.”
The sisters stood in silence for
several moments. But the elder sister quickly became angry. She heard nothing
but the rush of waves on the sand and what was so special about that? Suddenly,
she felt certain that the younger sister was trying to play her for a fool.
“You lie!” she cried and, grabbing a
dagger from her belt, she cut the younger sister’s throat. “Now there is no one
on this earth who knows more than me.”
The elder sister left the body on
the beach and returned to the city. But perhaps, if she had stayed, she would
have seen the waves wash the wound clean, and heard the trees cry out in
mourning, and listened to the wind sing of its sadness at the younger sister’s
passing, before gently lifting her body up and placing it among the stars.
