The Golden Touch

Long ago, in a kingdom where marble palaces sparkled beneath the sun and golden coins clinked in every merchant's hand, there lived a wealthy king named Midas. His empire thrived, and his treasury overflowed with riches—golden goblets, ornate jewelry, and coins stacked to the ceiling. Yet, despite all his wealth, Midas remained unsatisfied. His hunger for gold knew no limits.

Every morning, King Midas would walk through his garden. It was a place of rare beauty, filled with blooming roses, fruit-laden trees, and singing birds. Yet he often glanced at the blossoms and sighed, “If only these petals were made of gold, then they would be truly beautiful.”

One day, as he sat counting his treasures in the vault, a mysterious figure appeared before him. The stranger wore robes that shimmered like starlight, and his voice echoed like wind through the mountains. “Good King Midas,” he said, “I have watched you admire gold above all things. Would you like me to grant you a gift—a golden touch? Everything you lay your hands on shall turn to gold.”

Midas’s eyes sparkled brighter than his treasure. “Yes!” he exclaimed without hesitation. “Nothing would bring me more joy.”

“Very well,” the stranger said, placing a glowing hand on Midas’s shoulder. “From sunrise tomorrow, your wish will be granted. But be warned—what you desire most may not bring the happiness you expect.”

The figure vanished like mist, and Midas, thrilled with the promise, barely noticed the cryptic warning.

The next morning, the first light of dawn filtered into his chamber. Eager to test his new gift, Midas reached for the rose on his bedside table. As soon as his fingers touched it, the soft petals turned stiff and golden, shimmering in the sunlight. He laughed with delight.

He touched the curtains—gold. The chair—gold. Even the breakfast tray brought by his servants turned to solid gold at his touch. At first, his joy knew no bounds.

Midas rushed through the palace, transforming everything—vases, doors, even the fountains in his courtyard—into gold. Word of the king’s new “gift” spread quickly, and people came from distant lands to witness the miracle. Many bowed in awe; others whispered fearfully, unsure if such power was a blessing or a curse.

Later that day, Midas grew hungry. Sitting at the royal banquet table, he reached for a loaf of bread. But the moment he touched it, the bread turned into a cold, golden brick. He tried grapes, cheese, even water—each one transformed instantly into hard metal, impossible to eat or drink.

Confused and desperate, Midas called for his daughter, Marigold. She was the only person in the world he truly loved more than gold. She came running into the room, worried by his calls.

“Father, what’s wrong?” she asked, arms outstretched.

“Stay back!” he cried, but it was too late. She threw her arms around him, and in an instant, her soft skin turned hard and motionless. Her warm eyes froze into golden orbs. Marigold had become a statue of gold.

Midas fell to his knees in horror. His joy turned to sorrow, and he wept bitterly. The very gift he had longed for had taken from him what mattered most. “Please!” he cried to the heavens. “Take this curse from me! I want nothing more than my daughter back. I’ll give up all the gold in my kingdom!”

As his cries echoed through the halls, the mysterious stranger reappeared. “Have you learned your lesson, King Midas?”

Midas nodded desperately. “Gold means nothing to me now. I only want my daughter. Please, undo this.”

The stranger gave a gentle smile and said, “True wealth lies not in treasure, but in love, family, and wisdom. Go to the river at the edge of your kingdom. Wash your hands in its waters, and the curse shall be lifted.”

Without wasting a moment, Midas rode to the river, splashed its cool water over his hands, and rushed back to the palace. When he embraced Marigold once more, her golden skin softened, color returned to her cheeks, and her eyes blinked open.

She was alive.

From that day on, Midas lived differently. He still ruled wisely, but he gave away much of his wealth to help the poor. He filled his garden with real roses and fruit, never again wishing them to be anything more than what they were. He learned that the richest treasures in life cannot be counted, only cherished.

And though the world would remember him as the king who turned things to gold, Midas would forever remember himself as the man who almost lost everything—for the sake of glitter.