By the cold gray sea lived an old fisherman and his wife in a tiny, dilapidated wooden hut. Each day, the old man cast his net into the waves, hoping for a catch.

Most days, the fisherman pulled up only seaweed and shells. The wind howled around their small home, making the hut creak. But the old man was gentle and patient, always trying his best.

One morning, as the dawn turned the sea silver, the fisherman drew in his net. To his surprise, inside was a golden fish, shining brightly like sunlight.

The golden fish spoke in a soft, trembling voice: 'Old man, please let me go, and I will grant you any wish.' The fisherman gasped but smiled kindly. 'I need no wish. Swim free, little fish.' He released it back into the sea, and the waves shimmered with light.

When he told his wife what had happened, she scolded him loudly. 'You fool! Why didn’t you ask for something? Go back and tell the fish—I want a new washtub!' The old man sighed and walked back to the shore.

The sea was calm and blue. He called out, and the golden fish appeared, asking, 'What is it, old man?' 'My wife wants a new washtub,' he said softly. 'Go home,' replied the fish, 'it shall be so.' At home, a brand-new washtub stood by the door, but his wife only frowned.

Soon she shouted again, 'A washtub is nothing! Go ask for a new house!' The old man trudged to the sea. The water had turned darker, with small waves breaking on the shore. He called the fish, who listened and nodded. When he returned, the broken hut was gone, and in its place stood a fine wooden cottage. Still, his wife’s eyes showed her wanting more.

A few days passed. Now his wife demanded, 'I will not live like a peasant! Tell the fish I want to be a noble lady!' The sea had grown gray and restless. When the fish appeared, its scales no longer shone so bright, looking a little dull.

When the fisherman returned, there stood his wife, dressed in silk and pearls, with servants bowing before her in a grand palace. But when she saw her husband’s tattered clothes, she looked down with disdain, 'Go away from my palace, old fool!'

Time passed, and her hunger for power grew. She sent for him again: 'Tell the fish—I will be queen of the land!' The sea was now roaring and black. Lightning flashed across the waves. The fish rose once more. 'It shall be so,' it whispered, and vanished beneath the storm. When the old man returned, guards surrounded a golden throne, and his wife sat crowned with jewels, giving orders, her eyes showing no warmth.

Even as queen, she was not satisfied. She shouted, 'I will be mistress of the sea! The golden fish shall serve me!' Terrified, the old man walked to the shore again. The sea roared higher than mountains, black and foaming.

The fish rose from the monstrous waves, trembling. Without a word, it flicked its tail and disappeared into the deep, leaving the old man alone in the raging storm.

The old man waited, but the sea was silent. No fish appeared. He turned back along the lonely beach. The sky cleared, and the wind fell still, leaving a strange quiet.

When he reached his home, his heart sank. The grand palace was gone. There stood the old broken hut again. By the crooked doorway sat his wife, dressed in rags, and beside her lay the same cracked washtub.

The old man said nothing. He sat beside her and looked out at the calm blue sea. Far away, the sun glittered on the waves, but the golden fish never appeared again. From that day, the fisherman spoke little, casting his net each morning into the silent water, never asking for more than what the sea would give.