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.