Choices

The woods near the old well were dark and deep. There were stories, as there are always stories, that if you had a problem which could not be solved by conventional means you could go to the woods and your problems would be solved. 

One dark winters night a young woman made her way to the woods with a problem which plagued all young women. She craved entry into a prestigious university but lacked the funds to achieve this goal. Of course, finding a wealthy patron is always an option but those came with further risks.

Many young girls seeking a new life found their way to the woods.

‘What can you offer me in return?’ The hidden voice seemed to echo through the glade, causing our heroine to turn around wildly in a pointless attempt to find the source.

‘What can I offer?’ she replied. Every girl was taught what not to say to whatever dwelled deep in the heart of the woods.

‘Your soul, your firstborn child, your dreams, your voice. All of these are traditional’.

‘And boring, what if I offer you something new? Something I know you’ve never been offered before’.

‘Child, I have dwelt in these woods before there were trees. What could you possibly offer me that has never been offered before’. 

The voice definitely came from behind her left ear, a soft voice. It mostly sounded bored, but with just a hint of curiosity. 

‘My first great work. No-one has ever offered you that. When I graduate from university and produce my magnum opus I will gift it to you to do with that which you will’. 

This was something of a gamble. It was personal enough to be tempting, these kinds of creatures always seemed to crave touches of humanity. But if it was too confident, too assuming it would be seen as an insult. There were grave consequences for insulting these kinds of creatures.

It was silent for a long time, whether in contemplation or contempt our hero had no way of knowing. All she could do was wait patiently, and hope, and plan.

Finally, after what seemed like many hours but was probably more like minutes it responded. ‘And what would your great work be? Are you a poet? A writer? A singer? A dancer?’

She pulled a small fiddle from her knapsack and began to play a song. A soft lilting song, played by the fire at night when there is rain outside and the listeners desire something melancholic. A song that makes you yearn for something you can’t articulate, for an alternate life unlived, for the hypothetical path you could have chosen if your options were more varied. As they say sad is happy for considered people.

She played through that song and the next an upbeat dancing song for the end of the harvest or the beginning of spring. To remind you that although life never works out the way you think it will there is always joy and hope and good friends.

She played until her fingers bled until her arms hurt and until she ran out of traditional songs. This was her audition for her future and so she played songs of her own creation. Into each of these songs, she poured her hope for her future, her love of learning and adventure, her desire to make her own path with her own options. 

Eventually, she stopped playing and silence and night fell upon the glade. Once again the creature that dwells in the glade was silent for a long time.

‘You are a musician? You would give me songs? I have many songs, what would I do with yours?’

‘I am not just a musician. I am all of the things you asked and more. I am a poet, a writer, a singer, a dancer. I am also a mathematician, a scientist, a tinker, a tailor and a candlestick maker. I am curious and clever and trapped by a life which does not favour clever women’.

‘I do not know what my great work will be, what I offer you is a surprise. An unknown gift given at the end of my studies when I become who I am meant to be’. 

There was no silence this time, rather a soft lilting laughter echoing her earlier music.

‘You offer me a surprise? Something unknown in the future? I have never been offered such a thing before. And what would I do with such a thing? Whatever I wanted I suppose. If you offered me a sculpture I could display it or destroy it. If you offered me a new dance I could learn it or teach it to others. If you offered me a design for a new bridge I could burn it or build it’.

A face, inhumanly impossibly beautiful and ethereal appeared before our heroes. It appeared as a young woman, with cool blue eyes and a wicked smile. It had long red hair, curled at the ends and small pointed ears. Try as she might our heroine could not see anything below the creature’s neck, her eyes fuzzed over like looking at a road on a hot day.

‘I will accept your offer as the novelty pleases me, it gets so boring here with the same offers year after year. What would I do with so many generations of newborns?’

Our heroine simply nodded. She had been warned what would happen if the bargain went poorly, not if it went well.

‘Well we must finalise our agreement, in return for your “surprise”, I will ensure your entry into a prestigious university of your choosing. We must seal this agreement in the traditional way’.

The creature leaned in and gently kissed our heroine and when she opened her eyes she was back in her home. Acceptance letter in hand and a note reminding her of her obligations and hinting that maybe the creature would take a vacation from her vigil in the woods to visit her at university.

After all, she did love surprises.