Tales From The Heart: Pennies From Hell

Once upon a time in the far, far away in the little village of  Constantinella there lived a 5 foot, 7 inch, green eyed, pidgin-toed, tangled haired Romanian woman that everyone knew as Seraphina.

And Seraphina, like most of the villagers in the village of Constantinella was very, very poor.  In fact, if not for what little potatoes fields they were able to manage, the villagers may have starved several years back and this story would have had an entire different outcome altogether.

But the villagers did not starve, life went on and this story as most stories are prone to do; came to be told.  

Unlike most accounts from Romania and tales of near abandoned villages. Constantinella had something different, something special. Instead of a stream that fed most of the neighboring villages, Constantinella had a well. It was a deep well, so deep in fact, that if you were to peer in, you would see where the day would go to gather darkness so as to blanket the entire night. 

It was a sturdy well as wells go. People would meet there daily for drinking water, to cool off, to wash clothes and some would even fetch water to dampen the goats.

Being the grateful citizens that they were, all appreciated the well for its generosity; nearly everyone that came to the well would toss a penny in for a wish: for penny wishing was about a popular as eating and had been going on for as long as anyone in the village of Constantinella could remember.

Some would wish for fame, although being famous in Constantinella expressed a staunch lack of ambition.

Some would wish for marriage.

And some for divorce.

Some for money.

Some for beauty.

Some wished to be 18.

Some to be 21.

Some to be 30.

And even more wished to be 30 once again.

Some would wish for a leg, an eye, a smaller nose.

Some to be taller.

Some to be shorter.

Some wished for the not so nice to be nicer people.

And the not so nice would wish for the wishes of wishers not to come true.

They were the worst of all.

Then one evening Seraphina, after drawing water, tossed a penny into the village well and once again wished for love, but instead of hearing the penny’s silent nothing of dropping, she heard,

A.

CLINK!

Another penny, and again, another clink.

Walking over to the well, Seraphina looked in and right up to the brink of the well, right up to the bottom of the fetching pail, nothing but pennies. No water, no dark deepness, just pennies: Thousands and thousands of pennies, pennies destined to be wishes.

The mayor of Constantinella was ecstatic and within hours had barricaded the well and sent for guards with a declaration that all water was now to be drawn from the stream at the neighboring village.

Upon the well ban of Constantinella, Seraphina set to bucketing the pennies from the well and storing them in her private reserve. Day in and day out and most nights, she worked. Through Christmas, through Easter, through birthdays, funerals, weddings, through the winter solstice all the way into spring, never stopping, always bucketing.

After about two years of gathering, Seraphina noticed that her fingers began to turn a dirty brown and were slowly beginning to stiffen. A year later, both her arms began to mollify .  She soon found it difficult to breathe and when she went to the doctor to see what was ailing her, the doctor would ask her to breathe in as he would thump his finger on her chest to try and figure out what was going on inside and that is when he heard the first echo. And not just an ordinary echo as you might expect, but a tinny, hollow, metal echo. A far away echo...

And yet she continued to haul pennies. Her open hands became ridged scoops, her arms slowly transformed into squeaky levers, her back creaked.

Again the doctor was summoned and Seraphina was told to cease with the gathering of pennies and that not to stop, would be the death of her.

Of course the mayor would not hear of such foolishness and would have the guards carry her to the well every morning, where she would retrieve pennies late into the night.

One morning after a long night of fetching, the guards found Seraphina with one hand on the bucket, her head slightly tilted and peering into the well, her other hand on the crank, her back slightly bent and upon closer inspection…

 Frozen solid.

                                             The End.

Epilogue: Now, if you are ever traveling the nether regions of Romania and come to the little village of Constantinella you will find several wells in the village square, wells for washing, wells for drinking, and wells for cooking.  Wells for every water need possible, even a well used only for goats, to keep them happy and slightly dampened.  Yet, in the very center of the square: There still stands the original wishing well and next to the well, in all its glory: A fine brightly polished 5 foot, 7 inch, blue eyed, pidgin-toed, tangled haired  statue of a Romanian woman that everyone once knew as Seraphina.

So remember kids, for one to make wish is to look forward into a dream, for two to share a wish is heaven on earth, and to hoard a thousand wishes will turn you into an old and very cold coppery bitch.

 

Comments

[Carol]

Very nice.

[alvin]

Thank you Carol, you are very kind.

[Stephanie]

Looks like the Brothers Grimm have some competition!

[Alvin]

Thank you Steph... may as well allow the haunts to work for oneself. ;-)

[Sasha]

Thank you. xoxo