The Wishing Tree

Nestled in the heart of the Wonderwoods stood an ancient oak, its gnarled branches twisting skyward as if holding the heavens in place. Locals called it the Wishing Tree, a name steeped in folklore. Legends said the tree possessed the power to grant wishes, but with a peculiar condition: it would only fulfil wishes made selflessly, those intended to help others.

Few believed the stories, dismissing them as fairy tales. But for Anna, the Wishing Tree represented hope.

Anna, a seamstress in the small village of Millhaven, had spent her life mending garments and patching dreams. She was kind and hardworking, but life had been unrelenting. Her younger brother, Toby, had fallen gravely ill, and the village doctor could offer little more than sympathy. Medicine from the distant city was their only hope, but it was expensive, and Anna’s savings were meagre.

One crisp morning, as mist curled around the trees, Anna set out for the Wonderwoods. She wasn’t sure she believed in magic, but desperation had a way of opening one’s mind.

The forest was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that seemed to hold its breath. After hours of walking, she found it: the Wishing Tree. It was immense, its roots bulging from the earth like the veins of a giant. Its bark shimmered faintly as though imbued with a quiet, otherworldly glow.

Anna stepped forward, her voice trembling. “If you can hear me, please… I wish for the money to buy medicine for my brother.”

The tree remained still, its leaves rustling faintly in the breeze. For a moment, Anna felt foolish. But then, the ground beneath her feet glimmered. At the base of the trunk, a small pouch appeared. She opened it to find enough gold coins to cover the cost of Toby’s treatment.

Her heart swelled with gratitude. “Thank you,” she whispered.

As she turned to leave, a deep, resonant voice echoed in her mind: “Remember, the magic of the Wishing Tree serves those who serve others. Use your wish wisely.”

Toby’s recovery was swift and miraculous, and Anna couldn’t stop marvelling at the Wishing Tree’s power. Word of her encounter spread through Millhaven, and soon others ventured into the forest, seeking their own miracles.

The first was Elias, the village blacksmith, who wished for strength to carry heavier loads and finish his work faster. But the tree remained silent. Frustrated, Elias returned home, scoffing at Anna’s tale.

Next came Brenda, the baker, who wished for wealth to expand her shop and hire more workers. Yet, like Elias, she left the forest empty-handed.

Anna realized what they hadn’t understood: the Wishing Tree’s gifts were reserved for the selfless.

Weeks later, an unexpected visitor arrived at Anna’s home: old Mr. Brad, the village elder. His hands trembled as he gripped his cane, his voice thin with age.

“I hear you’ve found the Wishing Tree,” he said.

“Yes,” Anna replied cautiously. “But it only grants wishes that help others.”

Brad nodded. “That’s why I’m here.” He explained that the roof of the village schoolhouse had collapsed in a recent storm, leaving the children without a place to learn. “I want to wish for the wood and tools to rebuild it.”

Moved by his sincerity, Anna accompanied him to the forest. They stood before the tree together, and Brad made his wish. The tree’s branches swayed, though the air was still, and before them appeared a pile of sturdy timber and a box of tools.

Tears filled Brad’s eyes. “Thank you,” he said, bowing deeply.

With the villagers’ help, the schoolhouse was rebuilt within weeks. Children’s laughter once again filled the air, and Anna felt a sense of fulfilment, unlike anything she’d known.

As time passed, more people came to the tree—not for selfish desires, but for wishes that uplifted others. A farmer wished for seeds to replant his neighbour’s drought-stricken fields; a carpenter wished for materials to repair the widow Johnson’s crumbling roof. Each wish was granted, and the village began to transform.

Yet, not everyone sought the tree for noble reasons.

One day, a merchant named Victor arrived in Millhaven. Hearing of the Wishing Tree, he was consumed with greed. “Imagine the riches I could amass with such power,” he muttered.

Victor ventured into the Wonderwoods, his mind racing with schemes. Standing before the tree, he declared, “I wish for gold. Enough to make me the wealthiest man in the land.”

The forest fell silent, and the tree’s leaves shimmered faintly. Victor’s chest swelled with triumph—until the voice spoke.

“Your wish is hollow. The magic of the Wishing Tree serves those who serve others. Your greed will bear no fruit.”

Anger surged through Victor. He cursed the tree, striking its trunk with his fists. But the tree stood unmoved, its magic beyond the reach of his grasping hands.

Victor stormed back to Millhaven, spreading lies about the Wishing Tree. “It’s a fraud,” he told anyone who would listen. But the villagers, having seen its miracles firsthand, ignored him.

One winter evening, Anna returned to the tree carrying a basket of bread and fruit. She knelt at its base, her breath visible in the icy air.

“I don’t have a wish,” she said softly. “I just wanted to say thank you. You’ve changed so many lives, including mine.”

The tree’s voice resonated gently in her mind. “Your gratitude is gift enough. But tell me, child, is there no wish in your heart?”

Anna hesitated. For the first time in years, she felt at peace. Yet, one thought lingered.

“If I could wish for anything,” she said at last, “it would be for the tree’s magic to endure, to help anyone who comes here with a good heart.”

The tree’s branches bowed, almost as if nodding. “Your wish aligns with the heart of the magic. It shall be so.”

From that day forward, the Wishing Tree became an unspoken guardian of Millhaven. Generations of villagers came to understand its true lesson: the greatest gifts are those we give to others.

And as the seasons turned, the tree stood tall, its branches whispering to all who approached: “In giving, we are made whole.”