In ancient times, when Prague’s streets were not yet so firmly bound by stone and brick, and when wilder greenery breathed between the houses, a spring stood in the heart of today’s Prague 2, which people called nothing other than Pučka, or sometimes Puřce. It was not an ostentatious spring, with carved stone curbs or statues of saints, but a quiet and humble source, emerging from the depths of the earth, where the Vltava terraces, ancient witnesses of the river, touched the surface. It was a place where underground currents, filtered for centuries by sand and gravel, pushed their way to the light to quench the thirst of many.

Life was woven around the Pučka spring. Every morning, with the first rays of sun that pierced through the towers and roofs, women with wooden buckets, girls with clay jugs, and boys with leather bellows gathered here. It rustled with voices, laughter, but also the quiet whispers of old women, who exchanged news and ancient superstitions at the spring. The water from Pučka was icy even in the hottest summer, and it was said to have miraculous power. Not only did it refresh the body, but it was also said to heal ailments. Everyone who tasted it felt new strength flowing into their veins, and many believed that for girls who washed in it, it would ensure beauty and fertility.

The oldest inhabitants of the surrounding houses recounted that the spring was not just an ordinary source. It was said that a spirit resided in it, an old, good soul of the place, which watched over its purity and flow. It was spoken that on full moon nights, when the silver light of the moon touched the surface, a quiet singing could be heard, as if the water itself was speaking. However, no one ever saw the spirit; only occasionally did the surface seem to ripple without cause, and then people knew that the spirit of Pučka was watching over them.

Time passed, Prague grew and changed. Winding streets straightened, wooden houses gave way to stone palaces. People began to build aqueducts so that water would flow directly into their homes, and sources like Pučka, once so indispensable, slowly lost their significance. But even so, those who valued old customs, those who believed in its power, and those who sought solace in its cool whisper still came to it.

One day, however, the water in Pučka began to weaken. At first, only slightly, barely noticeably. But then the spring grew weaker and weaker, until the mighty flow became just a thin trickle. The old residents whispered that the spirit of the spring was sad, that it felt how the world around it was changing, how people were turning away from nature and its gifts. They tried in vain to find the cause. They dug around, prayed, brought offerings, but nothing helped. The water disappeared, as if retreating back into the depths of the earth from where it came.

It was a sad sight when the Pučka spring, once full of life, dried up completely from one day to the next. All that remained was a damp bottom and an empty stone hollow. People mourned as if they had lost an old friend. They knew that with the water, something more had departed – a piece of the soul of old Prague, a piece of a secret that had been passed down from generation to generation.

Many thought it was the end, that the spring had disappeared forever, swallowed by the growing city and its new ways. But the older ones among them knew that the spirit of a place cannot simply vanish. They imagined that the spirit of Pučka had retreated deeper into the bowels of the Vltava terraces, where it still watched over Prague’s underground waters, waiting for the day when people would once again remember the value of a pure spring and the ancient secrets hidden in the earth. Although the Pučka spring is no longer visible today and its name slowly fades from memory, its story lives on in the quiet whisper that carries through Prague’s streets, reminding that even what is lost can have its place in the heart of the city and in the legends told about it. And who knows, perhaps one day, on a full moon night, you will hear a quiet singing emanating from the depths of the earth, and that will be the spirit of the Pučka spring, smiling at you.