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Shangri-la, issue 6, May-June 1946
Page 5
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"Nope." There was a long pause and then he dragged the word from his mouth. "Thirsty?" he asked softly, leaning forward on his elbows. "Could stand a drink." The old man rose stiffly and stretched for a moment. "Come on," he said. "Well's over this way." I stood by the ivy-coveed round wall of white stone. A dipper hung on a nail driven into the beam that stretched up from and over the top of the well. "Help yourself," said the old man, lifting his eyelid a little higher from the empty socket. I leaned over to take up a dipperful, but I stopped. "But it's green!" I said. "Sure, what did you expect?" What had I expected? Sure, the water was green. I was up green path and that was where green water was. But such a green. Clear, all the way to the bottom. The only thing that broke its surface was a small ripple that came from nowhere. There was no moss or algae growing on the sides of the well. There wasn't a frog or minnow in it. Just cool, green water rubbing itself cattishly against the sides with its continual minute ripple. Don't drink green water. That's what mother had said. I dipped into it and held my head back, letting it run down my throat, spilling it out of my mouth, trickling it down my chin. "Cool, wasn't it?" I nodded my head. "Thank you." I hung the dipper in its place, turned my back on the old man, and walked away. I thought I went back the same way I had come, but, somehow, it didn't seem the same. I walked for nearly half an hour, and suddenly there I was again, back at the green house. "Thirsty again?" The old man opened wide his one good eye and stared wickedly at me. I shook my head a little fearfully and plunged off in a different direction, his laugh following me. This second attempt to escape was useless. And the third attempt. Now, here I was, sitting on the ground, staring at the boulder. I could see the sun, ready to disappear behind the trees. Of - 5 -
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"Nope." There was a long pause and then he dragged the word from his mouth. "Thirsty?" he asked softly, leaning forward on his elbows. "Could stand a drink." The old man rose stiffly and stretched for a moment. "Come on," he said. "Well's over this way." I stood by the ivy-coveed round wall of white stone. A dipper hung on a nail driven into the beam that stretched up from and over the top of the well. "Help yourself," said the old man, lifting his eyelid a little higher from the empty socket. I leaned over to take up a dipperful, but I stopped. "But it's green!" I said. "Sure, what did you expect?" What had I expected? Sure, the water was green. I was up green path and that was where green water was. But such a green. Clear, all the way to the bottom. The only thing that broke its surface was a small ripple that came from nowhere. There was no moss or algae growing on the sides of the well. There wasn't a frog or minnow in it. Just cool, green water rubbing itself cattishly against the sides with its continual minute ripple. Don't drink green water. That's what mother had said. I dipped into it and held my head back, letting it run down my throat, spilling it out of my mouth, trickling it down my chin. "Cool, wasn't it?" I nodded my head. "Thank you." I hung the dipper in its place, turned my back on the old man, and walked away. I thought I went back the same way I had come, but, somehow, it didn't seem the same. I walked for nearly half an hour, and suddenly there I was again, back at the green house. "Thirsty again?" The old man opened wide his one good eye and stared wickedly at me. I shook my head a little fearfully and plunged off in a different direction, his laugh following me. This second attempt to escape was useless. And the third attempt. Now, here I was, sitting on the ground, staring at the boulder. I could see the sun, ready to disappear behind the trees. Of - 5 -
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