Never Silent

I sit back, hands spread on the floor, breathing slowly. Recovering from the Oracle, and from my accidental fall into the spinner’s mind. It is with reluctance that I pluck the next artifact from the table – a simple box.

My brother thinks it’s Mom who puts things in my wishing box, but that isn’t so. I meant, I used to think so too. I would write my wishes down on a slip of paper, just like she said, and tuck the paper in the box right before I went to sleep. And the next day, or maybe the day after, my wish would come true. I mean, moms do have powers. I know they totally do. But this was different. Because *every* wish came true. Every reasonable one, anyway. Mom explained that I couldn’t have a pony because we had no place to keep it, and that’s okay. But I mean like finding my dad a job he liked better, and Mom finding enough money under the couch to buy me a new iPod Micro. But still. I thought it was Mom and luck.

Until the night I couldn’t sleep. I was tossing and turning, and finally realized I’d forgotten to write something on my wish paper. So I opened the box.

And the bottom was gone.

There was a tunnel instead, long and dark, and a pair of glowy eyes… a a gravely voice that said “We’ve been helping you all along. Now it’s your turn to help *us*.”

I slammed the lid right back on. I don’t sleep so well these days.

——————–
Get your very own wishing box, thanks to PiscoSubito! 4″x4″x21/2″, handpainted, probably nothing nasty at the end of that tunnel.

Me: “My skillset is napping.”
Emily: “Sooo, you’re qualified to be a housecat.”

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