A single wish can spark a universe of joy.

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Esther Brew

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Deleted User

Once upon a time, there was a poor woodcutter. He and his wife lived very simply. The woodcutter often wished for more money and a better life. But his wishes never came true. One afternoon the woodcutter was searching for a tree to cut down. All the trees looked too big or too small. "I wish I could find a good tree," he said. Like magic, he suddenly spotted the perfect one. "My wish actually came true!" The woodcutter raised his ax . . . Suddenly a small fairy appeared. "Stop! Please don't chop down my home." The woodcutter frowned. "I need wood to make money. And all the other trees are too big or too small." "How about this?" the fairy said. "If you leave my tree alone, I will grant you three wishes." "No, thanks," the woodcutter said. "My wishes never come true." "These wishes will come true," the fairy said. "But if they don't, you may return and chop down my tree." It was getting late, so the woodcutter agreed. When he arrived home, he told his wife about the fairy and the wishes. "Ridiculous!" she said. "Tomorrow you will go back and chop down that dumb fairy's tree." She set a bowl in front of him. "Here, have supper." The woodcutter looked at his bowl and groaned. "Plain broth again? I wish we had some sausages." Poof! Two plump sausages appeared on the table. The woodcutter was amazed. "My wish came true!" "Indeed, it did!" His wife laughed. "But you used up a wish on sausages. How silly!" The woodcutter frowned. "It's not funny! Why, I wish these sausages were stuck in your nose!" Poof! Now it was the woodcutter's turn to laugh. The sausages were stuck in his wife's nose! "Stop laughing!" she snapped. "I wish—" "No!" the woodcutter cried. "Don't! There's only one wish left. Let's try to get these sausages out of your nose first." The woodcutter's wife pulled on a sausage, but it was stuck tightly. "Let me try." The woodcutter slowly pulled on a sausage. "Ow! Stop! It hurts!" The woodcutter let go. "Let's put some grease on the sausages. Then they'll slide out easily." He spread some butter on the sausages. He tried to pull again. "Ouch!" his wife cried. "It's not working." "What should we do?" the woodcutter asked. "We still have one wish left," his wife said. "And I can't live with sausages in my nose." "You're right. I wish . . ." The woodcutter took a deep breath. "The sausages were out of my wife's nose!" Poof! The sausages lay on the table again. The woodcutter and his wife looked at them sadly. "We wasted the wishes," the woodcutter said.

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Esther Brew

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Esther Brew

In the last days of the fourth world I wished to make a map for those who would climb through the hole in the sky. My only tools were the desires of humans as they emerged from the killing fields, from the bedrooms and the kitchens. For the soul is a wanderer with many hands and feet. The map must be of sand and can’t be read by ordinary light. It must carry fire to the next tribal town, for renewal of spirit. In the legend are instructions on the language of the land, how it was we forgot to acknowledge the gift, as if we were not in it or of it. Take note of the proliferation of supermarkets and malls, the altars of money. They best describe the detour from grace.

Bell Rosy

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Esther Brew

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Esther Brew

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Esther Brew