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be furious when he discovered the loss of For as the wishwriter had grown older,
his violin. After a week, at the appointed his cleverness had become arrogance and
time, the boy would return and read aloud conceit. He had also grown fat, as a result
his wish, which said: "I wish, I wish, I wish of enjoying his comfortable life. He had
for my father to hear me playing skillfully developed jowls and a substantial paunch.
on the new violin that is the equal of the His muscles had become slack and his skin
one I traded." Then the fairy in its little blotchy. His stoop had turned into a hunch.
brass cage would turn to sparkling dust, But he did not care for any of these things,
the dust would become his wish, and the for his wife remained beautiful, even as she
boy would race joyfully home clutching his aged, and he knew she must love him just
new violin. as he was. He did not consider that his wife
The wishwriter always sent people away might be troubled.
for a week, although it rarely took him as Although, of course, she had no choice
long as an hour to piece together their but to love him, still she longed for him to
various desires into a single wish. be more like he once had been, and not as
"Most people could write their own he had become. And in her secret heart, she
wishes," he confided to his wife, "if only they longed not to be bound at all. But as her
thought a little." husband had told her, a wish could not
But of course most people did not, and make more wishes, and so the heart's
so the wishwriter would send them away for desire that grew within her remained inside
a week. For although he was gentle and and unsaid.
generous he was also clever, and knew on And as the wishwriter grew older, he
which side his bread was buttered. also developed a sickness of the mind.
He did always strive to write their Subtly at first, then more and more
wishes as well as possible. "But in truth," noticeably his moods became erratic. He
he said to his wife, "the precision of the grew prone to fits of passion and anger, wild
words does not matter so much. Wishes are tantrums that boiled up from nowhere. He
not fickle things, as long as a person does was no longer gentle and generous. His gift
not get too greedy, and provided the wish is for writing wishes deserted him, and people
expressed in a single clause." began to take their business elsewhere.
So the wishwriter and his wife lived Because his sickness was of the mind,
comfortably and even grew quite wealthy, the wishwriter could not see it for himself,
for he wrote wishes for rich as well as poor. and blamed others for their fickleness. His
If his customers had no gold or silver, he wife tried to bring him healers, but he drove
would take payment in goods or kind--a them away with insults and curses, and
winter's supply of chopped firewood, or a accused his wife of betrayal and trying to do
gift of music lessons for his wife. him harm. She bore his unkind words in
Sometimes, during the breeding season, a silence, for she knew his mind was no
lucky person would come with two captured longer his own, and she continued to care
fairies and offer the second to the for him as best as he would allow.
wishwriter as payment. The last healer that she tried, an
Whenever this happened the wishwriter alchemist of some note, accepted her
would smile and gesture to his wife and say: apologetic offer of tea, after he too had been
"I have but a single wish, and it is already driven rudely from her husband's bedside.
true." But he would take the fairy, for fairies He watched her pour with shaking hands,
were as good as money, especially to a then sipped from his cup and offered words
wishwriter. of small comfort: "It is unlikely that
His wife would stare at the tiny being in medicine could have helped him, anyway.
its cage. She, too, had come to have a single Such is often the case with diseases of the
wish. mind."
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