Yesterday I was hunting for a folktale about a man who exhausted himself in trying to find treasure among a large quantity of non-treasure, in a limited time.
An honest-to-goodness folktale is probably out there, but I couldn't find it. So of course I turned to Bing's ChatGPT tool and gave it my outline. The AI was pretty good at the medieval setting and some character traits, but weak on sticking to the plot.
Its graphics cousin, DALL-E 3, did do a good job in picturing what I had in mind.
After a bunch of editing, here's A Tale of Wood and Wealth:
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"In the heart of the Whispering Woods, by the mighty River Alterflow, there lived a man named Thaddeus. Thaddeus was no hero, nor was he a villain. He was simply a man who yearned for more—a life beyond the mundane. Each day he worked in the woods for his living. Each night he visited the village tavern, then stumbled homeward to his darkened cottage, too restless to find sleep for hours.
This thought would not let him rest: Others in town, less worthy, had found success. Why not he?
One night, as he left the tavern, Thaddeus encountered a wizard named Elowen. The wizard’s eyes held the secrets of long-ago constellations, and his voice carried the weight of eons upon eons.
(Image by DALL-E3)
“Thaddeus,” Elowen whispered, “listen well. Your wish will be granted. Soon, on a night when the moon is full and no clouds veil its face, you must wait on the riverbank and keep close watch. On that night, a magical night never to be repeated, the River Alterflow shall bear gifts beyond your imagination. Baskets, many scores of them, will float by this very village on its mighty stream. All baskets will look alike, but a precious few of these baskets will hold gleaming coins. Others will bear fine-crafted goblets of silver. And still another, figurines of solid gold, crafted by a people long ago.
“And mark my words, there will just one basket, the most fabulous of all, holding the emerald-studded diadem of a queen. A Queen out of legend but real nonetheless. I knew this royal family well.
“But harken to this: most of the baskets you will see in the river shall hold naught but kindling wood, of the kind you split and sell for firewood each day.”
Thaddeus’s heart raced. The prospect of wealth danced before him like fireflies on a summer eve. Soon he would be a man of stature in the town. No, in the city!
Then a thought. Humbly, so as not to give offense, Thaddeus held out his hands. “But the river is wide, master, and you tell of many baskets. How will I know which of the baskets hold the riches, the fine things that we agree I deserve?” His eyes were wide with anticipation but also a little concern.
Elowen’s gaze seemed to plunge into Thaddeus’s needy soul. “To know which is wealth and which is wood, you must reach inside each basket,” he said. “But remember this: any basket you fail to catch and search shall drift downstream, lost forever.”
And so, Thaddeus waited. He kept the wizard’s secret close, slipping out of his cottage each night as the moon approached full. The villagers came out to wonder why he paced the riverbank, squinting into the darkness. They whispered of moon-cursed souls, but Thaddeus paid them no mind. After two nights they left him to his vigil.
Then the night finally arrived when the moon was completely full. Muttering, Thaddeus waited for the high clouds to move away. Would the sky never clear?
And then the moon and stars were unleashed in glory. Now he saw many baskets scattered across the silver-touched water, moving downstream with the flow, their woven sides catching the light of stars and moon.
Now! There was no time to spare. Thaddeus leaped into the water, swimming to the middle of the river, splashing from basket to basket, tearing their tops open. The first ones revealed nothing but sticks of wood. Finally he found a basket with a handful of silver coins and two gold pieces. The wizard had not deceived him. Thaddeus pushed the wonderful basket to shore and flung it to rest safely high on the bank.
His desire flaring, Thaddeus vowed to pull in every valuable basket. The challenge was as broad as the river itself. Hour after hour, Thaddeus swam to shore, gasping for breath, to push another precious find onto the muddy bank. Cold gnawed at his bones, yet Thaddeus could not relent. The fear of missing a single treasure-laden basket haunted him. Even as he shivered in the shallows, the river’s current tugged at him, urging him back into its embrace.
As the sky was showing the first signs of dawn, Thaddeus found himself clinging to one more floating basket. He had not yet found the queen’s diadem of emeralds and diamonds. This must be the one! He reached inside. But it was filled with nothing but scrap wood. He looked left and right. This was the last of the baskets!
Crying out with rage, he dumped the worthless contents into the river and tossed the basket away.
Too late, and too exhausted to swim any more, he realized that the humble basket, when filled with light-floating wood, could have kept him safe above the water however exhausted he might be.
The River Alterflow had become his prison, and the desire for treasure, his shackles. The current bore his form away from his home, downriver, leaving his little pile of wealth on the riverbank for the villagers to find, and to think of their neighbor’s long nights of vigil on the riverbank.
To this day, whenever the moon is full and the sky is clear, the villagers gather by the river, their eyes scanning the water’s surface, but they see nothing but the moon’s reflection.
But they remember Thaddeus—the man who reached for wealth and found only the river’s cold embrace.
