What Wishes Are Made Of (Part 2 of 3)

“Offerings ready?” Nina nods, Maddy shrugs, and I pull mine from my pocket. “Then wish if you’ve got ‘em.”

My quarter flies first. Nina carefully drops a silver charm she’s pulled from the trite little bracelet she’s worn for years. And Maddy, not to be out done, blows in her gum.

FOUR DAYS LATER

MADDY

I haven’t slept more than an hour since the day we went to that stupid wishing well. The nightmares won’t stop. I even tried staying home from school yesterday. I thought maybe I could sleep during the day but the nightmares were still there, and this time I was home alone.

So today it’s back to school. I’m so tired I actually wore sweatpants. In public.

When I walk up to Nina at her locker, she doesn’t recognize my makeup-free face. The surprised - but still friendly - expression she wears for the stranger approaching her shifts into recognition, and then concern as she realizes it’s me and I look like crap.

Worry lines form between her eyebrows. “Hey, Maddy. You still sick?”

I nod and even that feels like a monumental effort. “Yeah.”

Nina’s lips turn down in her pity pout. I must really look bad. She usually saves that for homeless people and the kids that get shoved into lockers at lunch. “Well, you weren’t really dressed for the weather when we went up to the well.”

“I know,” I say, and try to keep the anger out of my voice. It wasn’t her idea to go up there, it was Liv’s. And I could’ve said no, but I didn’t. It’s hard to believe it was only last Friday that we hiked up Harper Hill and my biggest concern was making sure I didn't fall and get my favorite skirt dirty.

This is what I get for mocking the wishing well, I guess. For spitting in it and thinking sarcastically, I wish I could get out of this place.

I don’t believe in wishes. That’s what I keep telling myself. But it’s starting to feel like the wishing well believes in me.

In the dreams, the well calls me. Not with words, but like, this feeling. And I know I have to go back. The only way to get the nightmares to stop is to go back. But I don’t want to go back. Because I understand now.

That boy didn’t fall into the well. He jumped.


NINA

I’m starting to wonder if I did the right thing.

Maddy’s eyes are so haunted. They look around, but they’re not seeing anything in the hallway. They’re focused on some other place and it’s scaring me because Maddy’s usually the one noticing everything. She spots the latest gossip as it’s happening.

I did what it wanted. I gave the well something that mattered. Something that mattered a lot. Even now my fingers reach absently for the little bird and I miss it. It’s like I threw a tiny piece of my heart away.

Maddy grabs my arm and I jump. Her grip is so tight it pinches. “What happened in your dream? The one about the well?”

I want to ask Maddy what she wished for, but then she would ask me and I can’t tell her. I can’t tell anyone, ever. Instead, I bend the truth. “My dream? That was days ago. I don’t really remember.”

“Nina,” Maddy leans close and stares me down. “I really need to know.”

The cacophony of noise in the hallway comes to a dead stop and I’m saved. The silence can only mean one thing. Liv is here. Maddy’s head jerks up in surprise. All around the hall, heads are swiveling, the conversations gradually picking back up as Liv makes her way through the crowd.

Maddy’s grip on my arm relaxes. “What’s going on?”

Liv approaches in sunglasses and a scarf tied around her head like some fifties movie star. Even as the boys laugh, and the words bitch and whore are tossed at her she holds her head high.

I sigh. “You missed a lot yesterday.”

I should’ve gone to the well alone.


LIV

Whoever said “be careful what you wish for” got it wrong. It’s not what you wish that matters, it’s how. Be specific. That’s rule number one. Watch your word choices; semantics count.

I thought being infamous would be cool. Like, badass. But it turns out the difference between being famous and being infamous is way bigger than I thought. Like, famous is being loved and admired. Infamous is having all your dirty little secrets exposed and being hated for them.

I should’ve said what I wanted to be infamous for instead of leaving it up to fate.

Nina is at my locker with some girl when I get there. They’re ripping off paper that’s been taped to the door so I won't have to see it, but it’s pointless. It’s not like I haven’t seen the photos before. The whole school has. And my parents. And the police.

Apparently the girl with Nina is the only person alive who hasn’t seen them because she’s staring at the picture in her hand with her mouth wide open. “Liv? Is that you?”

It takes me a minute to realize the strange, scruffy girl with Nina is Maddy. Wow. If I wasn’t going through my own personal hell, I might be worried about her. She looks like crap.

I swear the whole hallway hushes, waiting to see if I’m going to claim those photos. “It’s not a very good shot of my face is it?” I say, and force a grin. “At least my boobs look good.”

Nina frowns. So disappointed in me, I’m sure. Maddy just looks confused. Some jerk from the basketball team slams his fist into the locker next to my head, startling us all. “Nice job, whore.”

I’m so mad I want to punch him in the face, but I channel my inner Marilyn Monroe and keep my composure. “No one told Jake to send those pictures to the whole school.”

It’s not my fault Jake “accidentally” sexted the whole school – including the principal. Those photos were just for him. It’s not my fault he got kicked off the basketball team. It’s not my fault we both have to go to court now.

That freaking wishing well did it. And I’m going to make sure it undoes it too.

*****
Come back on Friday for the next piece by Lacey!
*Photo by Robyn's Nest via Flickr Creative Commons

What Wishes Are Made Of (Part 1 of 3)

MADDY

There’s no stopping Liv once she sets her mind to something. Today it’s visiting the old wishing well at the top of Harper Hill.

It’s Nina’s fault, of course. She should know better, but she usually doesn’t and at lunch she confessed to having had a dream about the well. I didn’t get the details, but Liv did. Her eyes lit up, and that was the end of it. Instead of an after school trip to the mall, we’re out on a nature hike in search of wishes. I don’t believe in wishes, so this is basically a giant waste of a Friday afternoon.

We’re not supposed to go there. Not since that boy fell in and died however many years ago, but Liv gets off on the rush of doing things she shouldn’t. She likes to flirt with the idea of having a bad girl reputation. But not like smoking or having sex bad. Rebellion lite, she calls it. Bad enough. That’s how I know this is more about her than Nina.

It’s always about Liv.

She’s out ahead of me, moving way too fast up the steep path. My gum is hard as a rock, my nose is starting to run, and my feet are numb. If I’d known we’d be spending our afternoon mountain climbing, I definitely would not have chosen the three inch heel, knee boots.

“This better be worth it,” I yell, but Liv only waves her hand in the air.

Nina turns, always the peacemaker, and mouths, “Sorry.” It doesn’t really matter if she is or isn’t, we’re still clawing our way up an invisible path to visit a wishing well she saw in her dream.

“Whatever.”


NINA

I never would have come alone.

The woods are cold and quiet. I hear the wind tossing pine needles overhead, but the trees are old and tall. Nothing stirs around us except our own breath. Three continuous streams of white clouds. The sound of our steps is all there is and it’s as if we are all there is.

“I see it!” Liv sings, victorious, and moves more quickly than before.

“’bout freaking time,” Maddy mutters, but I know she’s just as curious as we are. Sullen is sort of a lifestyle for her.

A tremor passes over my shoulders; cold, fear or excitement, I’m not sure which, but I shove my hands into the pocket of my hoodie and jog behind her.

In my dream, everything was grey. The well was little more than a low piling of slate stones with holes around the lip where the wrought iron grate had been torn away. It was too deep to see any way, but the smell of it hovered just around the opening.

There were no words in the dream. It was just me and the well and the overwhelming sense that I needed to come. When I woke, I knew what my wish would be.

“No wonder that kid died,” Liv says, her voice loud as a wolf’s cry in the silence around us.

“Jesus.” Maddy rests her hands on her knees. I’m not sure if she’s talking about the well or the hike.

“Don’t be dramatic.” Liv moves right up to the edge of the well and leans over as casually as if she were considering a pair of satin pumps. “Is this how it looked in your dream, Nina?”

It is exactly as it looked in my dream, but that seems strange to say. I shrug. “Yeah, I mean, mostly.”


LIV

There’s nothing in that well but black. The bottom could be ten or one hundred feet below me and it would look the same to me: a solid plane of nothing. I’m pretty sure any dream involving this place wasn’t so much a dream as it was a nightmare, but Nina has a way with understatement the way Maddy has a way with black eyeliner.

I hold my hands out to the side and step up onto the crumbling stone lip. Nina gasps and Maddy mutters something under her breath. They’re both jealous in their own ways. Neither of them is fond of taking risks. That’s why they like me; I take risks for the three of us.

One pass around the crumbling well is enough to keep my rep solid. As I leap to the ground, pebbles roll beneath my boot and I slip. Just a little, and I land safe and sound, but Nina gasps again, playing to her strengths.

“What the hell are we doing here, anyway?” Maddy does her best to appear uninterested in her surroundings.

“Wishing. What else are creepy, old wells for?” Nina’s wandering toward the old wrought iron grate, as oblivious of my little digs as always. “Right, Nina?”

“Oh, um.” She turns and crosses back toward us. Her eyes are wide and as grey as her hoodie. “Right.”

I’m not convinced there’s any more magic in this well than there is in the sole of my boot. It was just a dream and not even my dream, but there’s no way I’ll have come all this way and not make a wish. Better to try than regret.

“Offerings ready?” Nina nods, Maddy shrugs, and I pull mine from my pocket. “Then wish if you’ve got ‘em.”

My quarter flies first. Nina carefully drops a silver charm she’s pulled from the trite little bracelet she’s worn for years. And Maddy, not to be out done, blows in her gum.

*****
Come back on Wednesday for the next piece by Valerie! 
*Photo by Robyn's Nest via Fickr Creative Commons

In The Cards (Part 3 of 3)

The mutt whuffed and it sounded like laughter. He bobbed his head, dropping something to the ground at his feet. Nim was sure he grinned, but she had no time to wonder. The dog spun and ran leaving Nim alone in the soft light of the caravan.

“Come on Lem, it’s not funny.” Any second now Lem would step out from the shadows and laugh, Nim was sure of it. She waited, straining her ears for any recognizable sound. Cars passing in the street, the tinny music of the carnival’s old ferris wheel, even the mutt’s growl. But it was as though she were the only one left in the world.

A gust of wind broke the stillness, making Nim shiver. Pulling her shawl tighter, Nim took a step toward the thing the dog had dropped. Light glinted off it in a way she recognized and her skin prickled. A tarot card. Nim could hear it calling to her. It sang a song unlike any she’d ever heard before, and Nim had heard them all.

Lem never let Nim give readings. He thought he was the one with the talent and she let him go right on thinking it. Lem had no idea that while he made up fortunes, Nim saw the real thing. She meant to keep it that way.

The cards spoke to her. It started as whispers soon after their mother died. But now their voices were so loud that they kept her awake. At night, while Lem slept, Nim was forced to lay spread after spread, until they’d spilled all their secrets and finally gone quiet.

Their mother had always warned them not to misuse their gifts. Nim had obeyed, but Lem couldn’t resist using his charm. Through the cards, Nim knew the hearts of everyone with the carnival, whether she wanted to or not. Worst of all, she knew the greed that lived in Lem’s.

The song from the dropped card seemed to swell and grow until it surrounded Nim. The melody wove itself into her bones and she bent down to pick up the card before she even realized she’d walked to it. Nim hesitated. “Lem?” She called one last time, but she’d given up hope of a reply. If this was a joke, Lem would’ve come out by now. Even he wasn’t that mean.

The card lay face down in the dust. It was the same size and shape as Lem and Nim's deck, but with an ornate symbol drawn on it’s back. The symbol reminded Nim of the tattoo in the mutt’s ear. The way the lines twisted into loops and doubled back on themselves sparked a memory. She’d seen a mark like that before.

This belongs to the women in our family. It’s yours now, Nim's mother had whispered, one night near the end. She pressed a small, intricately carved wooden box, just big enough to hold a deck of tarot cards, into Nim’s hands. It will open when you need it. Don’t ever let anyone see it, not even your brother.

Nim could feel the eyes of the mutt out there somewhere. Watching and waiting to see what she did next. With a painful squeeze of the knife for courage, Nim snatched up the card and sprinted back to the caravan.

She slammed the flimsy door shut and latched it, knowing the caravan wouldn’t keep her safe from anything outside. It couldn’t even keep out a strong breeze.

The candles flickered and threatened to go out as Nim dropped the knife back in the block and laid the card face down on the table. She wasn’t ready yet to see what message the dog had left her.

Instead, Nim looked again at Lem’s last spread. He’d thought it was for the blonde, but the cards told a different story. His story. Death in his near future. The Fool as his significator, crossed by the Four of Cups. Greed. And the new card, The Cur, as his outcome. She pulled that one close and studied it. Lem’s face was frozen somewhere between horror and outrage. The Cur seemed to be staring right at her. Not with a snarl, as she’d first thought, but with a grin.

“How?” she asked the cards, but for once they were silent. Only the new card, the one the dog had dropped, still sang. With a shaky hand, she flipped it over.

Nim’s breath caught. The words at the top of the card read The Legacy, and like The Cur, it looked like it belonged in the deck but Nim knew better. It took her a moment to recognize herself because the girl on the card was smiling. But just as she was sure that the boy on The Cur was Lem, she knew the girl on The Legacy was her.

Unlike Lem’s, her card was a portrait. In one bite-scarred hand she held a small wood box. In the other, a deck of cards.

Nim ran to her bed and dug the box her mother had given from it’s hiding place underneath. The top was carved with the same intricate design drawn on the backs of the two new cards. It hummed against her palm, the vibrations a soft thrum in harmony with her heartbeat. At her touch, the lid popped open with a soft click.

The velvet-lined inside was filled with tarot cards, their backs all bearing the ornate symbol. Nim flipped through them slowly. An unfamiliar feeling, power, surged through her as she realized just what she held in her hands. Nim spread the tiny prisons out before her. Every drawing was unique. Each one featured a different scene, a different person, but one thing was always the same. The Cur. His mangy, scar-covered face grinned at her from every card.

*****
Join us Monday when Natalie starts off a brand new story!

*Photo by Paolo Camera (vegaseddie) via Fickr Creative Commons

In The Cards (Part 2 of 3)

She stood, brushed the hair back from her shoulders and adjusted her shawl. It wasn’t ideal to pop in with blood dripping from her palm, but there was no time to find a wash bucket. Nim reached for the handle, stopped only for a moment to utter, “Showtime” and pulled the door open.

Nim held her eyes wide as they adjusted to the soft glow of candlelight. It didn’t help them focus any faster, but this part always went better if she appeared to be seeing things others couldn’t.

The air was so full of the blonde’s cloying perfume, Nim was sure it would stick in the back of her throat long after Lem had sent her on her way. Nim didn’t allow her nose to wrinkle. The smell was no worse than the usual must of the caravan. Lem called it character.

The blonde’s back was to her. Lem always seated them so he could see the door and give Nim her cue. He would lean back in his chair and smile. He always said the same thing, “Nim, just in time.  Would ya take a look at these cards? The lady has quite the future.” But it wasn’t the words that were important, it was his gesture. If he swept his left hand over the cards, that meant love; if it was his right, money.

Nim would approach the table slowly. She knew just how to let her head fall so that she appeared to be listening to the spirits. It was an easy sell. She already looked like a ghost. After a moment, she would speak softly in a way that made her words seem profound, and tell them she saw a great love in their future. Or money. Or fame. Or whatever it was Lem had figured they wanted most. It didn’t matter what the spirits actually had to say.

Of the dozens of signals Lem had designed, they used only three or four, but as Nim stepped into the room this time, he used none of them.

Because Lem wasn’t there.

There was only the blonde and the table and the four walls of the caravan. Nim took another step and could see that the blonde’s shoulders trembled and her arms were covered in gooseflesh.

“Hey,” she called, but her voice sunk into the thick shag of the carpet. The blonde didn’t move. Nim tugged her shawl tight around her shoulders and stepped around the table. The girl had a strange and focused look in her eyes. Nim glanced over the spread of cards. Nine in all, with the tenth clutched in the delicately jeweled fingers of the girl. “Hey,” she said again, this time louder.

With a start, the girl dropped the card. “Oh, hey.” She smiled. Her teeth were whiter than pearls. “Sorry. I must’ve totally spaced for a minute.”

Nim stepped back as the girl got to her feet and slung her purse over her shoulder. The strap was leather with shiny silver studs. “Would you mind? I mean, I’ve gotta go.” She dug her cell phone out and started rapidly tapping at the screen. “Just, uh, tell ‘im I said thanks or something.”

She moved quickly. The door fell shut behind her and Nim listened as she stepped into a jog. Nim couldn’t blame her. This wasn’t the sort of place for city girls after dark.

It didn’t take long to search the space. There were only so many places a person could hide in their tiny caravan and Lem was in none of them. Nim frowned at the mess of blankets on his bed. If this was part of the game, he’d have told her.

Coming back to the table in the center of the room, she traced the pattern of cards Lem had laid. The spread was filled with cup cards. Lem would’ve had no trouble reading them as love. He called that sort of thing magic.

It was the tenth card that made her hiss through her teeth. It lay over the sixth, and Nim knew from the bit she could see that it was Death – the card of transformation. But the tenth card was not one she’d ever seen before.

A mangy dog with muddy eyes and scars criss-crossed over its nose stood on dusty ground. It’s lips were pulled back in a snarl. Blood dripped from one of its sharp teeth. ‘The Cur’ was printed across the top in jagged, black font. Painted in the same style as the rest of Lem’s cards, this one could’ve gone unnoticed to someone else, but Nim knew better.

Nim shivered in spite of the warmth of the caravan. Fire seemed a fitting companion for this card. She would burn it in the trash bin and then find Lem, but as she reached for the card, something in the background caught her eye.

The Cur stood some distance away from a caravan. Nim recognized it as the trash it was, but it was the figure standing by the door that made her catch her breath and hold it: a boy, dressed in jeans and a loose button down top with a deck of cards spilling from one hand and dark hair falling over one blue eye.

“Lem?” She asked, her voice strained and hollow.

As if in answer, Nim heard a dog bark outside her door. Shoving the card into her pocket, she pulled a knife from the wooden block by the sink and opened the door.

The flea-bitten mutt stood ten feet away. He was hard to see against the dark sky, but Nim could see the reflection of candlelight in its eyes and on its pale paws.

“What do you want?” Propping the door with one hand, she held the knife in the other. The handle pressed against her forgotten wound. It throbbed in a dull, distant way.

The mutt whuffed and it sounded like laughter. He bobbed his head, dropping something to the ground at his feet. Nim was sure he grinned, but she had no time to wonder. The dog spun and ran leaving Nim alone in the soft light of the caravan.

*****
Check back this Friday for the final piece by Valerie!

*Photo by Paolo Camera (vegaseddie) via Fickr Creative Commons