The bucket from the well was filled to the brim with the silver water. As Jonathan dipped his hand into the liquid, the surface rippled, sparkled and reflected the colors of the surrounding forest. His lips touched the water; it was refreshing, icy and pure. This time he dipped his hands for a deeper drink.
Jonathan’s head swam and he grew dizzy. The intoxicating effects of the water swarmed over him like a darkening sky. His vision blurred and he fell into a world filled with the images of his adventures… great riches and beautiful women. The vision was not clear, shrouded in mist. The gold and silver promises would fade away too soon. Dipping his hands again into the well, again he drank. The vision became clearer.
The sky had become an artful display of sapphires and diamonds. The seas undulated with the secret light of alexandrite. The land rose around him as emeralds, topax, amber, peridot, turqouise, amethyst. Cities of pearl crowned by gold towered over all.
The moment Jonathan turned his eyes from these dazzling sights he was caught by the magic of those that lived in this land. Fairies danced while noble elves fought gods in mock battles. Troubadours wooed lovely ladies while the daughter of a king bestowed her love upon the traveller.
One more sip, and he could remain forever.
He thrust his hands into the bucket and his fingers struck wood. The bucket had tumbled upon its side and the last of its contents fed the grass at his knees. Grasping the bucket, with shaking hands he threw the bucket down into the dakr depths of the well. All around him the edges of wealth, luxury and beauty were softening into a blur. The bucket was soon raised, but instead of the enchanted water, there was nothing but damp earth.
Jonathan cried out in anguish as the last of the bejewelled world drifted away from his sight like the gentle tendrils of smoke. He fell to the ground and pounded his fists in frustration. The thirst was a fire boring into his soul.
He would never leave the well. Someday, as he wept and pleaded, someone might hear his cries and the water would return. When Death could no longer endure the man’s sorrow, he collected Jonanthan, freeing him from the Well of Thirst.
Written before 1979
3 Responses to “The Thirst”
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you are a gift for a reader :)
Hi,
I love the new look! I am a big fan of Art Neveau. While in Prague a few years back I had the pleasure of visiting the Alfonse Mucha museum. What a treat that was! I love your site, keep writing!
Don
Wow! Felt like I was standing there beside Jonathan anticipating the bucket being raised from the well to quench the thirst I had. Instead I was falling to the ground and grasping the blades of grass, trying to wring out just one drop of water. As the palms of my hands began now bleeding from squeezing the grass so tightly, hoping for refreshment – just one droplet -just one, that’s all I asked.
Reverting my eyes toward Jonathan as he lowered the bucket once more, this time I would make sure it would not tumble over as I too grasped the sides as he pulled it from the well. Giddiness enveloped me as the bucket appeared from the depths of the well. Excitement rushing forth and then the discovery of the bucket being not of water, but of damp earth.
Feeling rejected and no longer worthy of life, falling to the ground crying, knowing our lives would end and the thirst would linger on before our final demise. The thirst… it was now over.
***Powerful writing Jayne… couldn’t help but see myself in your story. Thanks for sharing your Artistic Bytes.