Welcome to The Hollow Tree.
This is a story for those who know that the smallest water is often the deepest. It is for the children who are tempted to lean just a little too far, and for the grown-ups who teach them how to keep their balance.
Let’s begin.
🍃 Forest Friend Whisper
[Chime]
[Whisper] “People think the danger is in the ocean. They think it’s the waves that pull you under. But I’ve seen the way the garden pond watches. I’ve seen the way it waits for someone to drop a marble or a secret too close to the edge. And I know what lives beneath the lily pads… and it doesn’t have a heart.”
[Chime]
Title: The Glass-Heeled Kelpie
Subtitle: Rules for the Edge of the Water.
And now, the tale.
In the corner of the garden, where the weeds grow taller than the roses, there is a pond.
It is not a beautiful pond. It is grey, and quiet, and smells of old rain. Everyone says it’s empty, except for a few sluggish frogs and the skeletons of last year’s leaves.
Everyone is wrong.
It is the home of the Glass-Heeled Kelpie.
This is not a horse made of mist. This is a creature of cold architecture. It has skin like wet slate and eyes like two unblinking silver coins. And it has a very specific set of rules.
The Rules (mostly whispered, never written)
1. Never Reach for the “Almost.”
The Kelpie is a master of the Almost. It will place a lost toy, or a shiny stone, or a beautiful flower almost within reach. It sits just an inch beyond where a hand can safely go.
If a hand reaches for the Almost, the mud at the edge will turn to grease. The stone will turn to soap.
The edge is a boundary, not a suggestion. If it’s in the water, it belongs to the Kelpie now. Let it go. The Kelpie doesn’t like to share, and neither should you.
2. The Reflection is a Lie.
When the sun hits the pond just right, the reflection looks like a doorway. It looks like a garden even better than the real one.
The Kelpie sits just under that reflection, holding it up like a mirror. It wants the viewer to forget where their feet end and the water begins.
If the face in the water starts to look more real than the face in the mirror—step back. Blink three times. Turn your back to the pond and count the thorns on a rose bush. Remind the world that you are here, and the reflection is there.
3. No Splashing After Dusk.
During the day, the pond is a puddle. After the sun slips behind the Hollow Tree, the pond is a throat.
Splashing at dusk sounds like an invitation. It sounds like a heartbeat. The Kelpie is a hunter of rhythm. If the water is disturbed when the light is low, the Kelpie will follow the ripples back to the source.
If a toe is dipped after the first star shows... don’t be surprised if the shoes feel a little heavier the next morning. Don’t be surprised if the bathwater feels cold no matter how much steam is in the room.
4. The Fee of the Fallen Leaf.
The Kelpie requires a tax for the space it takes up. Usually, it takes leaves. Sometimes, it takes shadows.
If a child walks past the pond, they must drop something dead into it. A brown leaf. A dry twig. A bit of dust from a pocket.
Say aloud: “Here is your dry thing. Keep it and be still.”
If the pond is ignored—if the tax is not paid—the Kelpie will come looking for something living to balance the books. Not a child, perhaps. But maybe a favorite marble. Maybe a secret. Maybe the memory of how to whistle.
The Kelpie isn’t evil. It’s just hungry for things that don’t belong to it. It is the keeper of the “Too Far.”
So, mind the weeds. Watch the mud. And if the silver coins in the water start to blink...
Walk away.
Don’t run. Running makes the ground slippery. Just walk. And whatever you do—don’t look back to see if it’s following.
The edges of the world are sharp for a reason. They remind us where we begin and where the mystery starts.
Mind the pond. The myth remembers. And the Kelpie is still counting its leaves.
To the listeners. To the whisper-hearers. To the ones who hold story before it has shape:
We see you. We thank you. We will keep writing.
Thank you for listening to The Hollow Tree.
This is just the beginning,
and you are always welcome to return—
whenever you’re ready for another story.
You can find more tales and behind-the-scenes magic at thehollowtree.substack.com, Instagram @TheHollowTreeStories and remember to follow along on Spotify, Apple Podcasts and soon YouTube. Until next time—may the path be soft, and the whisper of the forest stay with you.
—Written by Amber Jensen and the voices of The Hollow Tree
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Everything here is offered with care.And every listen, every share, every whisper down the line—it matters. 🌲
