Once there was a widow who had a son called Peter. He was a strong, able boy, but he did not enjoy going to school and was forever daydreaming.
"Peter, what are you dreaming about this time?" his teacher would ask.
"I'm thinking about what I'll be when I grow up," Peter replied.
"Be patient. There's plenty of time for that. Being grown up isn't all fun, you know," his teacher said.
But Peter found it hard to enjoy the present. He was always longing for the next thing. In winter he longed for summer; in summer he looked forward to winter's sledging and warm fires. At school he wished for the day to end, and on Sunday nights he sighed, "If only the holidays would come." His greatest joy was playing with his friend Liese. She was a wonderful companion, and no matter how impatient Peter was, she never took offense. "When I grow up, I shall marry Liese," Peter thought.
One afternoon in the forest, as Peter lay daydreaming, an old woman appeared. Standing before him, she held a silver ball from which dangled a silken golden thread.
"See what I have here, Peter," she said, offering the ball.
"What is it?" he asked curiously, touching the thread.
"This is your life thread," she replied. "Leave it untouched, and time passes normally. Pull it, and time speeds forward—an hour passes in a second. But be warned: once pulled, the thread cannot be pushed back. It will vanish like a puff of smoke. The ball is yours if you want it, but you must tell no one, or you will die that very day."
Peter joyfully seized the gift. It was perfect. At home, he examined the ball. The thread crept out so slowly it was barely visible. He longed to give it a quick tug but held back. Not yet.
The next day at school, bored and scolded, Peter remembered the ball. If he pulled the thread a little, the day would end. Carefully, he tugged. Suddenly, the teacher was dismissing the class. Peter was overjoyed. From that day forth, he pulled the thread a little every day.
Soon, he thought it foolish to pull only a little. A harder tug could end school altogether. That night, he pulled hard. In the morning, he awoke apprenticed to a town carpenter. He loved the work but sometimes, when payday seemed distant, he gave the thread a small tug, and suddenly it was Friday.
Liese had moved to town too. Peter grew impatient to marry her. When she said they must wait a year, he fingered the silver ball. "Well, the time will pass quickly enough," he said knowingly. That night, his impatience overcame him. He tugged the thread. In the morning, the year had passed, and Liese agreed to marry him.
But before the wedding, Peter received an official letter with orders for two years of military service. He showed Liese in despair.
"We must wait," she said. "The time will pass quickly."
Peter smiled bravely, knowing two years felt like a lifetime. At the barracks, life wasn't so bad at first. He remembered the old woman's warning and refrained from pulling the thread. But army routine soon bored him. He began pulling to speed up weeks and bring leave days closer. The two years passed like a dream.
Back home, Peter determined not to pull the thread unnecessarily. This was the best time of his life. Still, he gave it one or two small tugs to hasten his wedding day. He longed to tell Liese his secret but knew it would mean his death.