The Magic Goldfish

The old fisherman casting his net into the calm sea at dawn, with his humble wooden hut in the background, surrounded by peaceful nature.

An old fisherman, who never had any money, lived with his wife in a poor hut made of wood and straw. One day, he went down to the beach as usual and cast his net into the sea.

When he pulled it out, he found he had got a load of wet sand. He tried again and collected a netful of brown seaweed. He tried his luck for the third time and caught a small goldfish which, to his great astonishment, spoke to him:

“Be kind to me, fisherman. Put me back in the water and save my life, and I promise you a great reward.”

The magical moment when the goldfish speaks to the fisherman, shimmering with golden light as it pleads for its life.

The fisherman smiled. “I’m a poor man,” he said, “but I don’t need any reward just for being kind.”

The fisherman opened his wrinkled hand and the goldfish slipped back into the sea.

“Thank you,” the little fish called out as it vanished, “If you ever need something, come and call me.”

The fisherman tried his luck again for an hour or two and then slowly walked back to his home.

“Haven’t you caught anything at all?” demanded his wife.

“Nothing at all, but I’m happy just the same,” replied the fisherman. “I made friends with a fish. It was a talking goldfish and asked me to set it free. It said it would reward me, but I let it go for nothing.”

“You stupid man. You should have asked for a reward,” shouted his wife. “Look at this old wash-tub. It leaks so much that soon it will not hold water. I need a new one.”

“Very well,” nodded the fisherman. Returning to the beach, he called out, “Little fish, where are you?”

The goldfish appeared in the clear, calm water. “What do you want?”

“My wife wants a new wash-tub because the old one leaks,”—

“Go back home,” interrupted the goldfish. “She will have a new tub.”

Happy, the fisherman went back and found his wife looking at a shiny new wash-tub. “Are you pleased now, dear wife?” he asked.

“Pleased?” she snapped back. “This magic goldfish can do even better than that. Go and ask it for a new house.”

Away went the fisherman again and called to the fish. “What do you want now?” it asked.

“To tell the truth, I want nothing,” the fisherman said. “But my wife would like a new house.”

“Very well,” the fish replied.

It plopped back into the sea and the fisherman returned to find his wife outside an elegant new house with white walls and a roof of red tiles.

“You don’t look very pleased, my dear,” he said.

“Why should I be pleased with a house such as this?” demanded the wife. “I have changed my mind. What I want is a grand palace made of marble, and dresses and jewels for myself. Go back and talk to your fish friend again.”

This the fisherman did and returned a little later to find his wife in a grand palace, with fine clothes and jewels, surrounded by servants.

“My dear wife,” he gasped. “You look like a princess.”

“Only a princess?” snapped the wife. “In that case, I want to be a queen with a golden crown and rule over all the land and sea. People, animals, birds and fishes shall be my slaves. Go and tell that to your goldfish!”

Shaking his head, the fisherman went back. The sea looked dark and stormy.

The stormy sea churns with dark waves as the worried fisherman calls out to the goldfish, the tension of his wife’s final demand heavy in the air.

“Little fish,” he called out.

The goldfish appeared. “What do you want?” it asked.

“My wife wants to be queen of land and sea,” said the fisherman. “She wants even the fish to be her slaves.”

Before he could finish, the goldfish leapt back into the sea with a plop and disappeared without a word.

The fisherman walked slowly back. The marble palace had vanished, and his greedy wife was sitting outside their old wooden hut, washing the clothes in her old leaking tub.

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