The Juniper Tree

Once upon a time, long ago in a small village, there lived a rich man and his beautiful, kind-hearted wife. They had everything their hearts could desire except for one thing: they had no children. Every day, the wife prayed and wished for a child. This yearning grew stronger each day, and no matter what the couple did to occupy their time, it was never enough to soothe her heartache. Her one wish was to be a mother.

One winter day, the wife stood under the large juniper tree in their garden, gazing at the bare branches laden with snow. She cut an apple and peeled it, and as she did so, she accidentally cut her finger. A few drops of her blood fell onto the snow beneath the tree. Seeing the red against the white snow, she sighed deeply and said, "If only I could have a child as red as blood and as white as snow." She felt a strange flutter of hope rise in her chest, and that night, as the juniper tree stood tall under the moonlight, something magical stirred.

Months passed, and to her great joy, the wife found herself expecting a child. She felt a deep connection to the juniper tree, as if it had somehow granted her wish. As her pregnancy progressed, the woman's happiness blossomed, but it was accompanied by an ominous sense of foreboding that she couldn't shake. She would often sit beneath the juniper tree, talking to the child she carried, imagining the life they would share.

In the spring, the woman gave birth to a beautiful baby boy, with skin as white as snow and lips as red as blood, just as she had wished. But the birth took a great toll on her, and she became very weak. As she held her child for the first time, she smiled, but she also knew in her heart that her time on this earth was short.

Before she passed away, she called her husband to her side and whispered her final wish. "Bury me beneath the juniper tree," she said softly. "It was under its branches that I wished for this child, and there, I wish to rest forever." The husband, heartbroken by the loss of his beloved wife, honored her wish, and she was buried beneath the juniper tree, just as she had asked.

The baby boy grew up loved by his father, but the house felt empty without his mother’s presence. After a time, the rich man remarried, hoping to bring some joy back into their lives. His new wife, however, was not as kind-hearted as the boy’s mother had been. She bore the rich man a daughter, a little girl as lovely as her brother, and though the father loved both of his children dearly, the new wife was filled with jealousy.

The boy, being the firstborn and a son, was destined to inherit his father’s wealth, and this thought consumed the stepmother with envy. Day by day, her jealousy grew darker, until it twisted her heart and turned her love for her own daughter into a weapon against the boy. She began to despise the sight of him and treated him cruelly, always finding ways to scold him, while her own daughter was showered with affection and gifts.

The boy, unaware of his stepmother's hatred, remained kind and gentle, and he loved his half-sister deeply. He often played with her in the garden, laughing under the shade of the juniper tree. But the stepmother could no longer bear the boy’s presence. She resented the bond he shared with her daughter, and one day, the darkness within her grew too strong to contain.

One afternoon, when the rich man was away on business, the stepmother called the boy into the kitchen. She smiled at him, but it was a cold, empty smile that did not reach her eyes. "Come here, my dear," she said, her voice laced with false sweetness. "Would you like an apple?"

The boy, innocent and trusting, nodded eagerly. His stepmother reached into the cupboard and took out a large, ripe apple. She placed it on the table in front of him. "But first," she said, "you must open the chest by the fire and fetch me something."

The boy went obediently to the chest, but as he leaned over to open it, the stepmother suddenly grabbed the lid and slammed it down on his neck. The boy was instantly killed, his head severed from his body. Horrified by what she had done but too consumed by her jealousy to feel regret, the stepmother quickly hid the body, fearing that her crime would be discovered.

Just then, she heard her daughter calling from the garden. "Mother, mother! Where is my brother? I want to play with him!"

Thinking quickly, the stepmother wiped her hands and called back, "He has gone to visit our relatives for a while. But don’t worry, dear. He will return soon." She knew, however, that the boy would never return.

Desperate to cover her tracks, the stepmother decided to dispose of the boy’s body in a gruesome manner. She brought his remains into the kitchen and began to chop them up, preparing them as though they were meat for a stew. She cooked the stew slowly, all the while humming a tune to calm her nerves.

When the father returned home later that evening, he was tired and hungry from his journey. The stepmother greeted him with a warm smile, and soon, the rich man sat down to a hearty meal. He praised the stew, unaware of its terrible contents. "This is the most delicious meal I’ve ever tasted," he said, eating heartily.

Meanwhile, the little girl sat quietly at the table, her heart heavy with sadness. She missed her brother and couldn’t understand why he had left so suddenly. As her father ate, she began to cry softly. "Mother," she said through her tears, "where is my brother? I feel as though something terrible has happened to him."

The stepmother tried to comfort her, but her words rang hollow. The little girl, too distraught to eat, slipped out of the house and wandered into the garden, where she often played with her brother. She approached the juniper tree, and as she stood beneath its branches, she heard a soft, rustling sound.

Suddenly, a strange bird flew out from the tree. Its feathers were beautiful, glowing in the fading light of the day. The bird began to sing a haunting, mournful song, a song that told of a terrible crime, of a boy who had been killed by his own stepmother. The little girl listened, tears streaming down her face, for she knew that the bird was her brother.

The bird flew away, but its song lingered in the air. It traveled far and wide, stopping at the homes of several people, singing its sorrowful tune. The bird’s song was so beautiful and so sad that it brought tears to the eyes of everyone who heard it.

The bird flew to a goldsmith’s house and perched on the window ledge. It sang:

“My mother killed me,

My father ate me,

My sister, little Marlene,

Gathered up my bones

And laid them beneath the juniper tree.

Kywitt, kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I!”

The goldsmith was so moved by the song that he gave the bird a golden chain as a gift. The bird thanked him with a bow of its head, took the chain in its beak, and flew away.

Next, the bird flew to a shoemaker’s house and perched on the roof. Again, it sang:

“My mother killed me,

My father ate me,

My sister, little Marlene,

Gathered up my bones

And laid them beneath the juniper tree.

Kywitt, kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I!”

The shoemaker, enchanted by the song, gave the bird a pair of fine red shoes. The bird took the shoes and flew away, grateful for the gift.

Finally, the bird flew to a miller’s house, where it sang its sad song once more. The miller, overcome with emotion, gave the bird a beautiful millstone as a token of his appreciation. The bird, carrying the millstone, flew back to its home, the juniper tree.

As the bird approached the house, its sister Marlene stood beneath the tree, her eyes filled with hope and sorrow. The bird flew down and dropped the golden chain around her neck. "For you, my dear sister," it sang. Then, it placed the red shoes in front of her. Marlene wept tears of joy, for she knew that her brother had returned, even if only in spirit.

Finally, the bird dropped the millstone from high above the house, and it fell with a great crash onto the stepmother. The wicked woman was crushed beneath the weight of the stone, and her reign of cruelty came to an end.

At that moment, something miraculous happened. The bird vanished, and in its place stood the boy, alive and well, as if nothing had ever happened to him. His father, who had just returned home, was overjoyed to see his son again, and together with little Marlene, they embraced him beneath the juniper tree.

And so, the family was reunited, and they lived happily ever after, free from the shadow of the wicked stepmother. The juniper tree, which had witnessed so much sorrow, now stood as a symbol of love, hope, and the power of family.

As the seasons passed, the juniper tree continued to grow strong and tall, its branches stretching toward the sky, offering shade and comfort to those who sat beneath it. The boy and his sister often played under its boughs, laughing and sharing stories, their

hearts filled with peace and joy.

And to this day, if you listen closely when the wind blows through the branches of a juniper tree, you might still hear the faint echoes of a bird’s song, telling the story of a boy who was killed by his stepmother, but who returned to bring justice and peace to his family.