This is a story of a girl and her well.

One morning, a young girl awoke from her sleep. She immediately drank from a large cup of water on the bedside table. 

Then she stretched and smoothed the quilt upon her bed. After preparing a simple breakfast and tidying the tiny kitchen, she went outside.  

Her land was modest and well maintained. She raised chickens, planted vegetables, and pruned rosebushes. 

There was a dog that kept her company as she worked in the yard. He watched her sprinkle feed and pick weeds from the herb garden.

Near the edge of the property was a well. It was old, round, and made of stone.

Beneath its roof was a pulley system and a pail. She could lower the pail on the pulley system. That allowed her to retrieve water.  

On this particular morning, a hollow thud echoed from the depths of the well when she lowered the bucket. The girl blinked, then peered into the inky blackness. 

After hearing the bucket clang against the stone walls, she heaved it back up and sighed.

Her dog panted at her side, expectantly looking at the empty bucket. 

The girl unknotted the bucket from the rope and filled it with a few fresh eggs. Then she walked towards her neighbor’s house.  

It was the middle of the morning. Her neighbor was out in his fields. He didn’t even rest on holidays. 

She passed the eggs through the open kitchen window and walked toward his well. It was a deep well that gave him enough water to drink and take care of his crops. 

She filled her bucket with water. Then she returned to her land, silently thanking her neighbor. 

She gave a cup of water to the dog, a cup to the chickens, and a few cups to the garden. Like the animals, the dry soil eagerly drank the precious liquid. 

She filled a pitcher in the house for drinking water and another for bathing. Satisfied, she returned the pail to its place near her well. It was time to trim the rosebushes. 

The girl figured that the well would just need another night to refill itself. 

The next day, the bucket clanged against the empty well once more. Her heart sank. If not today, tomorrow, she thought, trying to raise her spirits.

It was important to have positive thoughts. Or so she had once heard.

This time she set off towards another neighbor’s house. It was farther. By the time she arrived she was sweaty and thirsty.

This neighbor didn’t know about positive thinking. He was old and had never liked his young neighbor.

The girl had baked sweet bread with freshly picked berries. But when she presented the treat to him, he muttered that he couldn’t eat seeds. 

He hacked the soil and allowed the girl to use his well. She felt the sun on her back and hot shame along her chest.

His well smelled like rotten vegetables. She hoped that the water wouldn’t make her sick. 

She thanked him and left him to toil in his bitterness. 

On her walk home, she decided that if her well was still empty the next day, she would do something about it.