Although the mountain stood directly beyond the edge of town, the people of the plain had never ventured upon it. Originally it had been a matter of fear, but time had long watered that down. The people nowadays simply had no time, and scaling the mountain never even crossed their minds. They were too busy with their work. Each day, the people would go to market to buy and sell baskets of purple wisps—a local fruit of the vine upon which they subsisted. Each day, the marketplace filled with the cries and the yells of commercial competition.
Each day, Arturo the youth made his way to the market from his house on the edge of town. He walked with his baskets of purple wisps over his shoulders to buy and to sell right in line with the others. Each day, he sold half of his crop, came home and mixed the old wisps with the fresh wisps to sell the next day. He was no better or worse than anyone else. Each day, everyone else ended up doing the same thing as well.
Despite the monotony, Arturo the youth was satisfied to make the walk. For each day, he got the chance to gaze at the beautiful Esperanza, with whom he had played as a child and who had since grown to be a gem. He recalled the days when they had run among the fields of vines, dancing and laughing until the sun had fallen far into the night and the choruses of crickets had struck up their sweet refrains. Every time he caught sight of her smile, as he passed her with his baskets on the road, he recalled the times when wisps were no more than a meal when on the plate and a pastime refuge when on the vine. Time had taken its course; they had both grown; and wisps meant something else for both of them now.
“One day soon,” he always told her, “I will have a big enough crop to support you, and then we can marry.”
“I know you will,” she always answered.
This had been his pattern for five years now, ever since he had begun going to market to buy and to sell. One day, however, his vines simply stopped producing. He had nothing fresh to mix his half full baskets, and within a week, all that remained to sell were a few wrinkled wisps.
“What am I to do?” he asked himself. “Esperanza will notice my empty baskets soon enough and she will find someone else.”
Arturo the youth did not go to market the next day. He had nothing to sell. He had no money with which to buy. He sat in his hut, in the shadow of the mountain, with nothing to eat and nothing to do but worry about all those other eyes which made contact with his Esperanza.
That night he had a dream. An old man came to him and walked him outside. “Go up to the mountain” he commanded, pointing to the shadow. “There you will find what you are really looking for.”
Arturo the youth awoke. It was still dark. Even so, he could not get back to sleep. The dream coursed through his head, remaining distinct despite its brief nature. He decided to obey the dream, and so, donning his clothes, he set out for the shadow before it was yet light enough to be distinct.
The climb was difficult. Arturo the youth felt the beads of sweat well up on his forehead and felt his lungs start burning. His legs became like jelly, yet still he progressed onward up the slope.
He did so with his head down in fatigue, and did not quite realize where his legs were leading him until he passed around a bend and was met by a sight he had never seen before.
There in front of him lay the sun on the very edge of the horizon. It shone brightly, yet the air was still cool. The light glowed through the trees which were great and tall from the soft mountain air. The light shone through the dew and threw sparkles into his eyes.
And everywhere Arturo the youth looked, there grew vines of not purple, but scarlet wisps. They grew readily and rampantly and filled the entire mountainside. He then realized just how hungry he felt. He rushed forward and pulled at the first scarlet wisp he could get his hands on. The fruit broke from the vine and Arturo sank his teeth deep into its flesh, its ripe skin bursting forth the sweetest juice he had ever tasted. Arturo could not help but elicit a smile as he chewed.
As Arturo the youth finished, he reached to grab for another one, but found his hand stopping short. “My hunger is satisfied,” he realized with juice dribbling down his chin. This was unprecedented. Arturo stumbled back in mild confusion. How could such a thing be? It normally took 3 or 4 purple wisps in order to satisfy a stomach for one meal. He had not had a meal in over 24 hours. Arturo felt great. All of the fatigue and hunger that had been present only a moment ago was now completely gone. The beads of sweat were dissipating, as well the burn in his lungs and the jelly in his legs. He felt as if he could run to the very top of the mountain.
Still his mind won over his senses. He had to eat another one. He could not survive on just one. Again he pulled at the first scarlet wisp he could get his hands on. Again, the fruit broke from the vine and Arturo the youth sank his teeth deep into its flesh, its ripe skin bursting forth the sweetest juice he had ever tasted. Yet, as he swallowed, he knew he had eaten too much. He lay down on the grass below him until his stomach settled.
“I have to bring this plant back,” he concluded after getting up again. “This could be the salvation of my farm. Everybody will eat my fruit and then Esperanza and I can marry.”
Arturo the youth clawed at the dirt around the foremost scarlet wisp vine. The soil was loose, and the roots came up easily and without damage. Arturo filled the back of his pack with dirt and placed the plant inside, then proceeded to hike back down to the plain.
While the sun shone high in the sky, he placed the vine in the ground and gave it enough water to take root in the new soil. “Tomorrow, Esperanza will be so proud when she sees my fruit,” he told himself with a smile of satisfaction.
But by the time the sun had set and the night passed, the plant had not survived. Arturo the youth woke up only to have his high hopes crushed. The scarlet wisp vine was withered and dry, and any fruit it had contained from up on the mountain had wrinkled and fallen to the ground. Arturo looked on in near tears. He did not know what he was to do.
That night, he had another dream. The same old man came to him and again walked him outside. “The scarlet wisp cannot survive on the plain. It grows only with the morning rays and the fresh winds of the mountain.”
“What must I do, then?”
The old man pointed to the mountain. “Go up to the mountain every day and bring down the fruit to sell at the market. It will always produce for you.”
The next morning, Arturo the youth obeyed. He awoke early and went up to the mountain with his two baskets. Although he had not eaten in two days now, he made the trek with considerable more ease. The beads of sweat were smaller, the burn in his lungs was milder, and the jelly in his legs was almost nonexistent.
He arrived at the market later than usual, and the buying and selling was already in full swing. He set his baskets down in his usual spot and called out to the people walking by.
“Come! Come and buy these scarlet wisps! One will sate your hunger. Two will make you full!”
The first group of people ignored him. The second group looked at the unique nature of his product and moved swiftly on. The third group curiously asked how much, and when Arturo the youth said, “One for the price of two purple wisps,” they laughed in his face.
“What are you trying to pull?” they scoffed.
“Buy one and try and you will see,” he offered.
A burly youth named Rico refused it though. “No one will try your scarlet wisps. No one will pay the price of two. What are you trying to pull?”
“I tell the truth,” Arturo defended. “One will sate your hunger. Two will make you full. I am making you a deal here. Besides, I had to climb the mountain to harvest them.”
“The mountain, huh? You must be crazy.” The group walked away.
Arturo the youth was rather disappointed at the end of the day. There had been only a few buyers. His baskets were still almost completely full. As he approached the house of Esperanza, he kept his head down in shame, looking up only to see her beautiful face beside another man. In his astonishment, he saw that it was that man who had refused him, Rico. Arturo quickened his pace to hide the tears from his love’s sight.
The next few weeks passed slowly, painfully. Arturo had enough to eat—the scarlet wisps guaranteed that, but he hardly had anything else. He could not replace his ragged clothes, for he did not have the money with which to pay for them. His farm was barren, since he had seen no point in trying to save it any longer. “How can I go back to selling purple wisps,” he contended with himself, “when I’ve tasted of the scarlet?”
Day after day passed—Arturo the youth continued to receive pestering for his scarlet wisps, his ragged clothes, and his barren farm. “He is lazy,” all the people whispered behind his back. Arturo the youth watched in pain as Esperanza and Rico grew closer and closer together. Each day, he would pass with his baskets of scarlet wisps and hide his face from her. That did not stop him from hearing her laughter and knowing that it was no longer his.
One day, as he passed, he heard her call out. Arturo the youth turned to face her for the first time in a great while. Again, he was struck by her beauty, a strike which caused pain in his heart. She waved toward him and he noted that she was alone. Then, an idea came.
“Esperanza, I want you to try one of these scarlet wisps. They are from the mountain and have the sweetest juice you have ever tasted. One will sate your hunger. Two will make you full.”
Arturo the youth waited in grand anticipation as he watched Esperanza sink her teeth deep into its flesh. “Surely,” he thought, “She cannot refuse me now that she’s tried my scarlet wisps.”
Esperanza elicited a smile as she swallowed. “You are right,” she exclaimed. “You are right about it all.”
“I feel,” Arturo the youth returned, “that with these, I am now worthy to marry you. They will take off soon enough and we will soon be rich like kings.”
Esperanza’s smile waned. She handed back the half eaten fruit to Arturo’s sunken eyes. “Art,” she said, “your scarlet wisps do, indeed, have the sweetest juice I have ever tasted, but look at you. Your clothes are rags. Your farm is barren. People mock you. I cannot marry you like this. Rico has asked me to marry him as well. I shall accept his offer.”
Arturo looked at the half eaten fruit and retreated without a word, failing this time to hide his tears from who was once his Esperanza.
Arturo the youth continued to ascend the mountain and gather his scarlet wisps. It became the only highlight of his day. It gave him joy to feel the morning rays and the fresh winds of the mountain. He still elicited a smile when he tasted of that sweetest juice he had ever tasted. But he was almost completely alone in this joy. Only a few others continued buying his scarlet wisps. Esperanza slowly faded into no more than a dull pain, for she and Rico moved across town once they married. Arturo was left in rags and his farm was left barren until the day he died. The mountain and the old man in his dreams were the only ones that mourned.
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