Three Fruits

And the warm sun beat down on the marketplace where the old woman sat, and it warmed her old and weary bones, and glinted off the tray of ripe and luscious fruits she had spread before her. And a great horse rode up with a young man astride, and the horse stopped before her. The young man nearly fell off of the horse, and he knelt before the old woman with pain and anguish written across his features. "Grandmother!" he cried. "I have taken ill, and it gets worse every day. My legs shake so that I can no longer walk. My arms are so weak that I cannot work. My head pounds with the pain of a thousand hammer blows, and I can get no sleep and no peace. I fear I might die. Grandmother, help me!"

The old woman peered at him with eyes as black and shiny as a bird's. "Aye, I know your illness," she said. "A worm lies in your belly, and he is devouring you from the inside out. He will take all your nourishment, and if you do not die from starvation, he will grow huge and consume you. But I can help."

The young man looked desperate. "Thank you, Grandmother!"

The old woman held out a fruit to him, like no other fruit he had ever seen. It was long and shiny, and the color of an autumn leaf, and smelled of woodsmoke and cider. "Here, eat this. It is delicious and will give you strength."

The young man took the fruit, and no sooner had he eaten it than he leaped up from the ground and began to dance in joy. "I can walk!" he cried. "My arms are strong again! Grandmother, you are a wonder!"

Then the old woman held out a second fruit to him, different from the first. It was round and velvety, and the color of a sunrise, and smelled like wildflowers. "Here, eat this," she said. "It is delicious and will relieve your pain."

The young man took the fruit, and no sooner had he eaten it than he clapped his hands to his head. "The pain is gone!" he cried. "Grandmother, you have worked a miracle! I am cured!"

"Not yet, not yet," the old woman said hastily. "You must now eat this last fruit." She held another fruit out to him, completely unlike the first two. It was small and wrinkled, and the color of dung. It smelled like dung as well. "This will kill the worm inside you, and you will vomit him up, and all the filth he has spread in you. There will be some pain, but then you will be cured. Do not fear; I eat this fruit every day. It will do you only good."

The young man took the fruit and looked at it doubtfully. No sooner had he bitten into it than he made a terrible face and spat it out. "It is horribly bitter!" he cried.

"Yes," the old woman said sadly, "I am afraid that it is."

"I need not eat such a bitter fruit," said the young man. "Your other fruits have cured me. How much gold do I owe you?"

"I do not take gold," said the old woman.

"Jewels, then. Or fine horses, perhaps."

"There is only one price I ask," the old woman said. "You must kiss me and give your love to me."

The young man threw back his head and laughed. "You? But you are old and ugly! Now that I am cured I shall find much fairer maidens to love than you!"

"If you kiss me and give me your love I shall become young and beautiful again, and with more radiance than any maiden you have known," said the old woman."

"Surely you jest, Grandmother," the young man laughed in disbelief. "Ask another price."

"There is no other price for my fruits," she said. "You must pay it or leave."

The young man looked at the old woman, and he saw her wrinkled skin, and her beady black eyes. He saw her old hands that were crooked like talons, and her nose hooked like the beak of some great bird. He saw her snaggled teeth that were brown from the bitter fruit that she ate. He began to shiver, and fear of her crawled upward from his belly like a worm. Maybe she was trying to poison me with that last fruit, he thought to himself.

"Old woman," he said, drawing himself up and trying not to show his fear, "since you will not take my gold, I cannot pay you. I thank you, however, for curing me." He mounted his horse and rode away.

"Fool," muttered the old woman in her harsh and creaking voice. "That worm still lies within you, and in six months you will be as bad as you ever were. I wonder, will you come to me again, or will you be so frightened that you will only sit and let it eat you alive? Fool." She arranged her threadbare cloak around her. "And a greater fool I, for coming here day after day hoping one of you idiots will make me young again. Perhaps I should give up, and be content with my cat and my lonely cottage. Ah well, it is well known that the gods are most entertained by fools." And she closed her eyes and turned her face to the sun as it beat down on the marketplace and warmed her old and weary bones.

-Corbie Petulengro