Grandpa Dean's Wishing Well Stories

"The Striped Deer & the Third Wish"

Quake, is that you?

Many years ago, when hunting was a way of life for people, there was a poor woodsman named Quake. Needing food for his wife and young son, who was very ill and weak, Quake did what needed to be done because they were poor and his son was dying.

One day, while he was hunting in the forest, Quake came upon an unusually large buck with black stripes across his body like a zebra. Feeling bad for shooting such a unique deer, Quake thought of his sick child and took aim with his rifle. He fired a shot. When the deer fell, Quake ran to its side.

To his amazement, the deer spoke. “Brave Hunter, I have magic, but before I die, I will grant you three wishes.”

Feeling horrible for what he had done, Quake nodded and thought for a moment. “Mighty Buck,” he finally said, “I can only think of two wishes. The first is for my son. I wish for his good health so he can live a long, happy life. The second is for my wife. I wish for her to make any hot or cold meal appear with only a thought.”

“And the third, Brave Hunter?” asked the deer.

“I need only two,” replied Quake.

The deer said, “They are both granted. Now go home to your family and see for yourself. As I won’t be long in this world, I’ll wait for your return if you find that I have lied.”

Quake ran home as quickly as he could. When he arrived at his home, a feast like no other was waiting on the table. Food was everywhere, on shelves and on the floor. The cupboards were full. His son was running around his legs as his wife smothered her husband with kisses.

“It’s a miracle,” she said. “I was rocking the boy, who suddenly sat up and ran around the room. As I was chasing him, I was thinking about how much I’d love to cook you a Thanksgiving dinner. And when it all appeared on the table, I kept thinking of more food, which appeared everywhere else.”

Quake kissed his wife and son before making for the front door. He thought of the beautiful deer as he ran back into the forest and stood where he had fired the shot. He wasn’t surprised to see the deer was gone.

Behind him, a voice said, “Why am I not dead?”

Quake turned to face the animal. “Before I returned,” he said, “I wished my third wish for you, Mighty Buck. I wished that you would not die by my hand.”

“And for that I am thankful,” said the deer, who began to fade into the mist. “Brave Hunter, my wish for you is that you live a long happy life with your family.”

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