The Well

A different sort of Fairy Tale

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there was a little girl.  She had long red hair and pretty green eyes and white-pale skin.  Everyone else in the land had long black hair and cold grey eyes and dark tan skin, and they were very rude toward her.  Her father was a blacksmith, but he hated her with a scorching fire.  All her brothers spat at her and all her sisters pulled her hair and slapped her.  School was insufferable, with constant teasing and humiliation and hitting.  There was no one in her village that wanted her.

                

She often ran away to hide in the well, and would cry there.  Her tears would mix with the water, and it would become warm and comforting until she felt she could go back and face the world.  One day the little girl ran to the well.  Blinded by her tears, she slipped on a patch of moss and fell in, hitting her head on the stone walls.  As she drifted from consciousness, her blood mingled with the water and two devils sprang to life.

                

“Oh look at her!  Can we keep her?”

                

“Are you mad?” the other sneered.  “Of course not.”

                

“She’s so pretty, though�"her hair is the color of blood and her eyes have the glaze of a juicy doughnut.”

               

The other one glared at the smaller.

                

“You little runt, always talking about food.”

               

“What?  I mean, you have to admit it’s true.  And her lips are a rosy pink like the soft flesh of a new born baby!”

                

“Shut up!”

                

The smaller one immediately flattened itself. 

               

“Sorry…”

                

It came out as a squeak.  The larger sat down on its haunches and said,

                

“You made me hungry.”

                

She was starting to stir now, coming to from her unconsciousness.  Her eyes fluttered open and gazed around. 

                

“Little girl, what do you want most?”

                

“I don’t know,” she said calmly. 

               

It wasn’t unusual for her to have conversations with herself on what she wished or wanted, but it never occurred to her that such things as magick and demons and angels existed. 

               
 “Think, child.  Of all they’ve done to you, surely you want some sort of revenge.”

                

“But why?  There’s really no need.  They simply don’t like me.”

                

“Would you spend your whole life here?  Never finding love, always being hated, always feeling alone?  Now tell me, surely you want more.” 

                

“But what more is there?  Love is in the heart, hate destroys the soul, isolation inspires growth.  I am fine just the way I am.”

               

“You stupid little girl!  Don’t you know the pleasures we could offer you?!”

                

“My pleasures are the well, the air I breathe, the skies that are never painted the same way twice…  There’s so much pleasure I have. Why would I want more?”

                

“Then why do you come here to cry, almost every day?  Why do you come and weep?”

                

“Those who mourn for the wicked will learn how to love.”

                

The devils vanished and their ashes fell into the water.  Mixing with her blood, it instantly lit fire and swept through her whole village.  As she stood on the outskirts, watching the flames rise ever higher and the smoke billow toward the trees, she wept.  Her inconsolable weeping pushed her to her knees, and she buried her face in the moist ground. 

                

“I could never tell them!  I could never tell them that I loved them!  I loved them!  And with my whole heart!” 

               

A hand rested lightly on her shoulder, and quiet sobs joined her own.  She looked up to find a ruddy face of a boy, dirty and tear-stained like her own undoubtedly was.  A gasp escaped her.

               

“Who…Who are you?”

                

“I am Love.  You have walked in true straight paths, and you are righteous in His eyes.”

               

“Whose?”

                

But the boy was gone, now, and a small lamb was at her side.  It looked up at her with keen brown eyes.  Just then a lion padded through the short grass and lay down beside the lamb.  She gasped in astonishment, and looked around in wonder.  Where her village had once stood spread a field of ash, and the well that held her tears was utterly dried up.  She peeked over the edge, but even the stones were consumed. 

                

“Dear child, what do you see?”

                

“An eerie beauty, as if this is the way it was supposed to be all along.”

                

The lion nodded, but she looked at it curiously, showing no fear.  The lamb stood, its eyes still gazing at her. 

                

“But what of everyone else?  What of everyone I loved?  Where are they?”

               

In place of her grief, there had come a peace and calm.  Oh, she still mourned their deaths, but the grief was quieter now. She could accept their deaths as the work of the Great Power, which envisioned itself here as a lion and a lamb. 

              

 “They have sinned in my eyes, and I will not tolerate it any longer.  My anger burned against them.  But you, dear child, are precious in my eyes.  I find you blameless.”

                

At that moment she felt tears of joy come over her.  This was the love she had always shown to others.  Knowing that someone else loved people in spite of their sin made her heart fill with joy.  She beamed with unspeakable joy and delight.  No one dared to come find her after she had disappeared, and three years later a small boy with long red hair and bright green eyes and white-pale skin found her in the well.  He was overcome by the look of joy on her face.  He had not been able to save her.  

Author's Note

It's a little rough... I need advice!

Reviews

[Daniel Atkinson]

Watch the dialogue. To me it comes across as unrealistic, but maybe it's just me. It's a good story otherwise. Keep it up.