Another something like A Small Brook Flows


There Is A Rose


In a land where dreams come true and nightmares are reality, there is a field. On that field nothing grows - it is only dirt and rocks. And yet, on that field, there is a rose. A single, vibrant red rose. This is the Wishing Field, where any wish you make - be it simple, stupid, splendid, or small - comes true.

The Wishing Field is untouched, unmarred, by mortal touch. No mortal can come anywhere near the Wishing Field. Few can reach the Dreamland. But some do. Always when they reach the shore of the Dreamland, they become plagued with longing to glimpse even for a split second the beauty of the Wishing Field. They always hear at least one story per visit of the Wishing Field, told to them by the creatures of the Dreamland: Elves and Faeries, Griffins and Sphinxes, Unicorns and Centaurs, and all the mythological beings. The stories speak of its beauty: its carpet of read, blue, green, white, yellow, and black roses; its fountains of liquid gold that is cool to the touch and refreshing to the soul; its streams of silver. The Fae - the creatures of the Dreamland - often visited the Wishing Field, and every time were awed to silence by its unimaginable beauty.

For you see, the Wishing Field was not always a barren land. It once fit the Fae's description to a "t". But the Fae have not visited the Wishing Field since it lost its beauty. They have not been able to.

Long, long ago - though only five years passed in the Dreamland - there was an Elf known to be unusually greedy for a Fae. He longed to live in the Lifeland, where the mortals existed, so that he might become rich and powerful. So he did something no Fae had ever dared dream. He summoned a mortal to the Dreamland and allowed her to inhabit his body. He then took her to the Wishing Field and commanded her to wish that he exist in the Lifeland. He did this because no Fae can ask something of the Wishing Field - not without terrible consequences. The Elf believed that if a mortal made the wish, he would be safe.

But the Wishing Field is not just and ordinary field. It is an entity that can sense when it is being deceived. The punishment for a Fae requesting something of the Wishing Field is death. And not death by mortal terms. When a mortal dies, it leaves the Lifeland and the Dreamland behind and sails on to the Golden Kingdom, or it is sent to the Gates of Fire. Death for a Fae means that it completely ceases to exist - no mortal will ever dream him again. He will be banished from not only the Dreamland, but also from both the Golden Kingdom and the Gates of Fire. And a Fae cannot exist but in those three places or a mortal's dreams.

But the Wishing Field is not allowed to kill a mortal. The King of the Golden Kingdom would not permit it. And while the mortal inhabited a Fae's body, it could not kill the Fae without killing the mortal.

So the Wishing Field did the last thing the Elf expected. It granted the woman's desperate request of "I wish I could live here." The Wishing Field removed her from the Elf and implanted her in itself in the form of a single, vibrant red rose.

And then it killed the Elf.

Horrified at the Elf's demise, the mortal rose wilted, giving up its life because it had brought about the end of another. But the Wishing Field would not let it die, could not let it die. It banished the roses and the streams and the fountains and used their lifeforce f\to lock the mortal rose in a moment, a second frozen in time.

And now it waits. It waits for the hour when the King of the Golden Kingdom will come pluck the rose and plant it in His garden, where it cannot die; only thrive. Until that day, the Wishing Field waits, bending all its power on holding on to the mortal rose so that it might be beautiful until and when the King of the Golden Kingdom comes.

In the land of dreams there is a field. And on that field there is a rose.