The Wishing Well

The Wishing Well

Rhian didn't like the sound of crying. In fact, the Wisher held the greatest detest against it. Crying meant someone was sad or hurt, and no one should feel that way when a Wisher was about – it just wasn't right. The Wisher rose silently from its watery bed to peek over the stones that shaped its home.

The meadow spread far out in all directions. The grass grew tall and thick. Dots of purple and white flowers were speckled all throughout. The forest line formed an almost oval shape around the pasture. A small boy was lying on the meadow's floor, nearly hidden from the world. Only his sobs and slight movements gave away his position. The Wisher slid over the edge of the well, its liquid body taking on the form of a young woman.

Blonde hair tumbled down her back. A light green gown covered her pale flesh and grey eyes were wide with worry. Her bare feet sounded with soft thuds as she ran to the boy's side. Dropping to her knees, she reached for him and pushed aside his dark hair whispering, "What ails you child?"

The boy shot up and big green eyes greeted Rhian. They were rimmed red as was the boy's nose. He was thin and his clothes were dirty and torn. "W-who are you?" he demanded straightening up and trying to put on a brave face.

The woman shook her head, shaming the ones who force young boys to grow up before they are ready. Was it so wrong for a child to cry when he is sad? Was it so wrong to show how he feels? Emotions were what made them so human.

Rhian smiled caressing the boy's cheeks. He made a move to pull away, but stayed put when she wiped away his tears with the gentlest brush of her thumbs.  His body moved closer to hers though he didn't seem to notice. Her smile widened, happy that the boy was seeking her comfort. "I am Rhian, what is your name?" she asked searching his face intently.

He was losing someone. Rhian had seen expressions like his many times before. She knew all the subtle signs and their meanings. Attempting to hide emotions was pointless when it came to a Wisher. Emotions fueled wishes and every Wisher could detect the feelings behind every desire.

The boy's head dropped and his cheeks became the same red as his nose. Embarrassment rolled off in strong waves the small boy. In a low voice he mumbled, "Gerwyn."

The woman's light laughter caused the boy's head to sink farther. "That is not a name to be ashamed of," she assured him tilting his head up so his eyes met hers. "Fair love; many women want a man who gives fair love."

 Gerwyn's face scrunched up in disbelief. Someone must have told him differently.

Rhian laughed once more. It had been so long since a child with such innocence had come to the well. "You will see one day my Fair Love. Now," she schooled her features into a serious expression, "Tell me, what has made you cry?"

Tears gathered in the boy's eyes, but he kept his head up his eyes never leaving hers. "My friend Leoline, he is sick and dying," a single tear made its escape down his cheek. "I would do anything to save him, anything at all." Gerwyn buried his face in the woman's stomach, his sobs filling the air once again.

Rhian's heart ached for the boy and she regretted that he had to know pain at his tender age. She wrapped her arms tight around Gerwyn's shoulders humming an ancient song into his ear. His crying slowed with each passing moment easing the woman's heartache. Rhian rocked back and forth, troubled thoughts racing around her mind. She knew she could help but a price had to be paid. Could the boy afford it? A flash of gold caught her eye.

"Do you believe wishes come true, my Fair Love?" she inquired lowering her voice to that of a whisper.

The boy raised his head giving Rhian a bemused look; he would understand soon enough. She stood and offered her hand with a gentle smile – a silent plead for his trust. Gerwyn paused uncertainty and fear contorting his features. After a long moment he slipped his small hand into hers, a wobbly smile stretching his lips.