"Kikos in the Well" is an Armenian folk tale.

Once upon a time, there lived a poor peasant and his wife and their three daughters. One day, the man returned from a long, hot day working in the fields. He was thirsty, so he sent his eldest daughter to the well to fetch him a bucket of water.

When she reached the well, she looked up at the tree that towered beside the well. She began to daydream.

"Someday I'll marry," she said aloud, "and my husband and I shall have a son, and we'll name him Kikos after his grandfather. And one day Kikos will walk to the well and climb this tree, and he will lose his balance, fall and tumble into the well. Poor little Kikos will drown!"

And with this thought, she collapsed in grief beside the well. "My son Kikos," she wept, "Poor Kikos with his hair of chestnut brown one day will drown ..."

The distraught girl could not stop crying. So upset was she that she could not move. Back home the peasant waited, but when his eldest daughter did not return with the water, he sent his second daughter to find her.

When the second daughter saw her sister weeping by the well, she ran to her side. "What's wrong, sister?" she asked.

The eldest daughter spoke through her tears. "Auntie of my child," she wailed, "your sweet nephew Kikos one day will be born, but poor Kikos, will climb this tree and fall and drown."

Now when the second daughter understood that the nephew she might one day have, the boy named Kikos, could fall from the tree and drown in this very well, she too began to sob.

Time passed, and when the two daughters had not come home, the peasant sent his youngest daughter to find out what the trouble was.

She ran to the well, and there she saw her sisters crying bitterly. "What's happened? What can be wrong?" she asked.

The second daughter hiccupped through her sobs. "One day our sister is bound to marry, and our sister shall have a son, and this will be our nephew, a boy of beauty and fun."

The third sister smiled delightedly.

"You mustn't smile," said the second sister, "for our nephew, Kikos by name, with hair of chestnut brown, one day will climb this tree and fall, and in the well he'll drown!"

"No!" cried the third sister, and when she did not return home, her mother ran to look for all three girls. She found them sitting by the well, their eyes swollen from crying.

"My beautiful girls," she said, "what has happened to you?"

"Mother, mother, your own grandson, the child of your child, a boy named Kikos, will one day climb up this tree. Imagine his smile, his laughter. Imagine that hair, that rich chestnut brown, and imagine poor Kikos falling here, Kikos drowned!"

"Woe is me!" the mother wept. "My favorite grandchild. Kikos, my only boy!"

It was getting late, and the peasant could not imagine what could take his women such a long time. So he pulled on his boots and trudged to the well. There he saw all four women, tears pouring down their faces.

"Grandfather! Poor man!" they cried when they saw the peasant.

"Good heavens, what is this all about?" he asked. "And who is grandfather?"

"You, my sweet," said the peasant's wife, "your poor grandson, your namesake Kikos, will one day climb this tree ..."

"Oh, grandfather, imagine Kikos, the boy of such glee ..."

"Like his grandfather Kikos, with thick hair, chestnut brown ..."

"But father, your grandson will fall ..."

"And he'll drown!" they wailed together.

Now the peasant began to understand, and he shook his head and wondered what to do with his foolish women. But he loved them, so he said, "There, there, you'll never bring our boy Kikos back with your tears."

"Ahh, what shall we do, father?" asked the eldest daughter.

"Come home with me," the peasant said, "and we shall invite the neighbors to a feast in memory of little Kikos. In this way our son and grandson will live forever in everyone's memory."

And so the women became calm again, and all went home happily.