The Wishing Well and the Wish That Went Missing
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Friday’s Forest Fable
The Wishing Well and the Wish That Went Missing
There was something rather unusual about the Wishing Well Down Whimsy Way.
Nobody knew exactly how old she was.
Nobody knew who had built her.
And nobody knew quite what happened to the coins that disappeared into her dark, sparkling waters.
Mr Bramble maintained that somebody ought to be keeping accounts.
The Clockmaker Rabbit suggested installing a little brass counter.
The Crow Sisters once spent an entire afternoon attempting to calculate how many wishes would fit inside a bucket.
But the Wishing Well simply listened.
And occasionally, when the evening breeze stirred the ivy around her stones, she whispered something so softly that only the leaves could hear.
Because the Wishing Well knew a great many things.
Including something rather peculiar about wishes.
People were often so busy waiting for them to come true that they forgot to notice when they did.
It was a chilly October morning.
The village rooftops glistened with dew.
Pumpkins sat on cottage steps.
The first wisps of chimney smoke curled into the pale sky.
And the Wishing Well was having a particularly busy day.
Plink.
A coin fell into her waters.
“I wish I had a bigger house,” whispered a field mouse.
Plink.
“I wish I had more time,” sighed the Clockmaker Rabbit.
Plink.
“I wish people appreciated how hard I work,” muttered Mr Bramble.
Plink.
“I wish I had a new hat,” said one of the Crow Sisters.
“You’ve already got seven,” said another.
“Eight.”
“Then why do you need another?”
“Because I haven’t got nine.”
The Wishing Well listened patiently.
She always did.
Just before lunchtime, a little dormouse arrived.
She wore a faded blue coat and carried a small purse.
She climbed onto the stone ledge and peered into the water.
“Hello,” she whispered.
The Wishing Well’s surface shimmered.
“Hello, little one.”
The dormouse smiled.
“I’ve come to make a wish.”
“Most people do.”
She opened her purse and took out a copper coin.
“I wish…”
She paused.
The Wishing Well waited.
“I wish my life was a little more exciting.”
“Exciting?”
“Yes. Something wonderful. Something magical. Something that makes every day feel special.”
The Wishing Well considered this.
“And what would that look like?”
The dormouse frowned.
“I’m not sure.”
“Then how will you know when it happens?”
The dormouse hadn’t thought about that.
“Well… I suppose I’ll just know.”
And with that, she dropped her coin.
Plink.
The following morning, the dormouse woke up.
She looked around her little cottage.
Same curtains.
Same wooden table.
Same slightly crooked picture above the fireplace.
Nothing magical.
She sighed.
“Perhaps wishes take a while.”
So she made breakfast.
Outside her kitchen window, a robin sang.
But the dormouse was too busy wondering when her wish would come true to listen.
On Tuesday, she passed Mr Tea Toad’s teahouse.
The windows glowed warmly against the grey morning.
The smell of cinnamon buns drifted into the street.
Mr Tea Toad opened the door.
“Good morning! I’ve made far too many buns. Would you like one?”
“Not today, thank you.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I’m waiting for something wonderful to happen.”
Mr Tea Toad looked at the tray in his hands.
Then at the dormouse.
“Fair enough.”
And ate the bun himself.
On Wednesday, the Clockmaker Rabbit invited her to help decorate the village green.
There were pumpkins to arrange.
Lanterns to hang.
Little strings of golden leaves to fasten between the trees.
“Would you like to help?” he asked.
“Perhaps another time.”
“Busy?”
“Waiting.”
“For what?”
“Something magical.”
The Rabbit scratched his ear.
“Right.”
And returned to untangling a string of lanterns that had somehow become wrapped around his foot.
By Thursday, the dormouse was beginning to feel rather cross.
Her wish still hadn’t come true.
She had checked beneath her pillow.
Looked behind the curtains.
Opened her front door very carefully each morning, just in case something extraordinary was waiting on the step.
Nothing.
Well…
There had been a beautiful sunrise.
And a butterfly had landed on her windowsill.
And Bartholomew Snailsworth had invited her to tea.
But none of those things counted.
She wanted something properly magical.
On Friday afternoon, she marched back to the Wishing Well.
“I think my wish has gone missing.”
The Wishing Well stirred gently.
“Has it?”
“Yes.”
“How unfortunate.”
“I wished for something wonderful to happen, and nothing has.”
“Nothing?”
“Nothing.”
The Wishing Well was quiet for a moment.
Then she asked a question.
“Tell me, little one. What happened yesterday?”
The dormouse folded her arms.
“Nothing much.”
“Tell me anyway.”
“Well, I woke up. Had breakfast. Went into the village. Came home.”
“And on your way?”
The dormouse thought.
“The Key Keeper gave me a little bunch of flowers.”
“How lovely.”
“Yes, I suppose.”
“Anything else?”
“Mr Bramble helped me carry my shopping.”
“Very kind.”
“And the Crow Sisters were trying to teach a pumpkin to roll uphill.”
The Wishing Well paused.
“How did that go?”
“Badly.”
“Naturally.”
The dormouse almost smiled.
“And the day before?” asked the Well.
“Oh, nothing special. Mr Tea Toad offered me a cinnamon bun.”
“Did you enjoy it?”
“I didn’t take it.”
“Why not?”
“I was waiting for something wonderful.”
The Wishing Well’s water rippled.
“And before that?”
“The village was decorating for autumn.”
“Did you join them?”
“No.”
“Why?”
The dormouse looked down.
“Because I was waiting.”
“For something wonderful?”
“Yes.”
The Wishing Well fell silent.
Then, very gently, she whispered:
“My dear, how many wonderful things must pass you by before you decide that one has arrived?”
The dormouse stared into the water.
For the first time, she noticed the reflection looking back at her.
Behind her stood the village.
Warm little cottages.
Golden leaves.
A cobbled lane winding between the shops.
Mr Tea Toad sweeping his doorstep.
Bartholomew reading beneath a tree.
Lantern Fox polishing his lanterns for the evening.
The three Crow Sisters arguing over a pumpkin.
And somewhere in the distance, the sound of laughter.
The dormouse looked at it all.
Really looked.
“Oh,” she whispered.
The Wishing Well said nothing.
She didn’t need to.
“Does that mean I shouldn’t wish for things?” asked the dormouse.
“Goodness, no,” said the Well.
“Then what does it mean?”
The Wishing Well thought for a moment.
“Do you see those trees?”
The dormouse nodded.
“Some are still green. Some have turned gold. And some have already lost their leaves.”
“Yes.”
“Does the green tree refuse to enjoy the sunshine because it hasn’t turned gold yet?”
The dormouse shook her head.
“Does the golden tree wish away its colour because winter is coming?”
“No.”
“Then perhaps you needn’t wish away today while waiting for tomorrow.”
The dormouse considered this.
“But I still want wonderful things to happen.”
“Then keep wishing.”
The water shimmered.
“Just remember to live while you’re waiting.”
That evening, something rather extraordinary happened.
The dormouse went to Mr Tea Toad’s teahouse.
She ordered a cinnamon bun.
Two, actually.
Then she helped the Clockmaker Rabbit hang the final lanterns around the village green.
She stopped to admire the pumpkins.
She listened to the robin singing on the old stone wall.
And when Bartholomew invited her to tea the following afternoon, she said yes.
Later, as she walked home beneath the glowing lanterns, she passed the Wishing Well.
“Hello!” she called.
“Good evening, little one.”
“I think my wish might be coming true.”
“How wonderful.”
The dormouse smiled.
“Although I’m not entirely sure anything has changed.”
The Wishing Well chuckled softly.
“Perhaps something has.”
After the dormouse had gone, the Crow Sisters landed on the Well’s stone rim.
“We’ve heard you’ve been granting wishes.”
“Have you?”
“Yes.”
“Interesting.”
One sister leaned closer.
“Could you grant mine?”
“What is it?”
“I’d like a ninth hat.”
The Wishing Well sighed.
Some wishes, she suspected, were going to require considerably more patience than others.
We all have wishes.
Things we’d love to have.
Places we’d love to go.
Dreams we’d love to see become real.
A different home.
A new beginning.
A little more money.
A little more freedom.
Something we’ve been working towards for a very long time.
And there’s nothing wrong with wanting more from life.
Dreams give us direction.
Hope gives us something to look forward to.
But sometimes we begin treating the life we’re living now as though it’s merely a waiting room for the life we really want.
We tell ourselves we’ll be happy when things improve.
We’ll relax when everything is sorted.
We’ll enjoy ourselves when the money comes.
We’ll feel successful when we reach the next milestone.
And without meaning to, we keep moving the moment when we’re finally allowed to feel content.
But perhaps happiness isn’t waiting at the end of the road.
Perhaps some of it is scattered all along the way.
In the ordinary Tuesday mornings.
The unexpected kindness.
The warm cups of tea.
The laughter that catches us by surprise.
The things we already have that we once hoped for.
You can want a different future and still love parts of your present.
You can dream of more without deciding that what you have today isn’t enough.
And you can keep making wishes without putting your happiness on hold until they come true.
Because perhaps the most beautiful thing about a wish isn’t always the moment it is granted.
Sometimes it’s discovering that there was already a little magic in the life you were wishing to change.
So keep dreaming.
Keep hoping.
Keep believing that wonderful things are possible.
But don’t forget to look around while you’re waiting.
There might be a cinnamon bun, a beautiful sunset or a perfectly ridiculous pumpkin waiting to make you smile.
And those little moments count too.
Until next Friday’s Forest Fable…
May your wishes always have room to grow, your dreams never lose their sparkle, and your heart remember to enjoy the magic that’s already here.
If you’ve been quietly wishing for something a little magical to land on your doorstep, Down Whimsy Way has a small surprise or two waiting for you. Each box is a little moment of wonder, carefully gathered and ready to be opened.
With warm wishes,
Becky
The Key Keeper
Down Whimsy Way