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MidReal Story
Whispers of the Wishing Tree
Anonymous
Jun 6
Scenario:Pohon apel
Create my version of this story
Eliza Hart
local school teacher,friends with Thomas and mentor to Lily,petite with curly brown hair,cautious yet compassionate
Lily Chen
Eliza's student and Thomas's love interest,daughter of the village healer,youthful with bright eyes and dark hair,curious and headstrong
Thomas Greer
village blacksmith,friend of Eliza and love interest of Lily,tall and muscular with a gentle demeanor,brave and protective
Chapter 1
The children were talking about the apple tree again.
I’d heard them whispering in the schoolyard, and I’d seen them huddled together as they walked home, their voices low and excited.
They were too young to know that there was no such thing as a tree that granted wishes, but I couldn’t help being curious.
I’d been teaching at the village school for almost a year now, and I’d never heard them talk about it before.
It was strange that they should start now.
I didn’t think much of it at the time.
It wasn’t until later, as I was walking home from work, that I remembered the children’s whispers.
The path wound its way alongside the riverbank, and as I passed a break in the trees, I saw it: an apple tree standing alone in a small clearing.
Its branches were heavy with bright red apples that seemed to glisten in the sunlight.
There was something strange about it, something almost otherworldly, and for a moment, I found myself rooted to the spot, my heart pounding in my chest.
It felt like the tree was watching me—beckoning me closer.
I forced myself to take a step forward.
As soon as my fingers closed around an apple, it was like a dam breaking inside me.
The energy surged through me, leaving me light-headed and breathless.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath as the feeling subsided, then opened them again to find the tree swaying gently in the breeze.
It was just a tree, I told myself—a very strange tree, but nothing more than that.
Taking a deep breath, I plucked an apple from one of the lower branches and cradled it in my palm.
The fruit was cool and smooth against my skin, and I could feel the weight of it in my hand.
It didn’t look like anything special—at least no different from the apples that filled the market stalls every autumn—but the children said it was a magic tree, one that granted wishes to anyone who asked for them.
I’d never been one to believe in such things, but what did I have to lose?
My brother had been sick for so long that the hopelessness of our situation had started to sink in.
We’d taken him to every healer in the village, but they still weren’t sure what was wrong with him.
We didn’t even know what we were treating—just a list of symptoms and an assurance that they would do their best to help him.
The treatments they gave him seemed to work at first, but then his condition would worsen again until he could barely get out of bed.
A few months ago, he’d been strong enough to walk around the village green by himself; now he couldn’t even stand without someone’s help.
The healers had said there was nothing more they could do for him—that we should simply make him as comfortable as possible.
But he was only twenty-four years old!
I couldn’t wait to get to the school.
The children were always so full of energy, and their enthusiasm was infectious.
Today, I had a special treat planned for them: a lesson on local myths and legends.
I’d spent all night preparing it, and I couldn’t wait to see their faces light up when I told them about the apple tree that granted wishes.
I’d overheard a group of them talking about it on the playground yesterday afternoon, so I knew it would be a big hit.
They said that anyone who made a wish at the tree would have it granted, no matter how impossible it seemed.
But there was a catch: if you wanted your wish to come true, you had to pay a price, often higher than you could ever imagine.
It sounded like something straight out of a fairy tale.
And yet…they all seemed so convinced that it was true.
As soon as the last bell rang, I headed home.
I took the same path by the riverbank that I’d taken yesterday, my heart pounding in my chest as I got closer to the clearing where the apple tree stood.
The children had been right: there was something strange about it, something almost otherworldly.
I could see a few large red apples hanging from the low-hanging branches, and I could have sworn they were glistening in the sunlight.
A chill ran down my spine, and I shivered despite the warmth of the autumn sun.
The children must have been mistaken; after all, they were only children.
Creeping closer, I reached out and plucked an apple from one of the lower branches, then held it up to the light so I could get a better look at it.
It was a beautiful fruit, perfectly shaped and bright red, but otherwise unremarkable.
There was no reason to think it was anything other than a regular apple tree, but as I held it in my hands, I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was watching me—judging me with its dark, unblinking eyes.
Shaking my head, I took a deep breath and forced myself to focus on what was important.
My brother had been sick for almost two years now, his health deteriorating a little more each day.
The healers still weren’t sure what was wrong with him; they’d tried everything they could think of without success.
They said he had an illness unlike any they’d ever seen before—one without a name or known cause—and there was nothing more they could do for him.
But how could I give up on him after everything we’d been through together?
As I bit into the apple, a strange energy surged through me.
