Well Wished
(Random
2-word prompt- divorce, shaft)
Flower
had expected wishing wells to be found in the centre of some beautiful and
floriated forest, surrounded by nature, with sunlight streaming through the
canopy onto the deep greens of verdant leaves and vibrant, colourful petals.
Quaint.
He’d
expected wishing wells to be small and ornate.
Uniform grey stones arranged in a neat circle, with stiff wooden struts
holding up a tiled roof. And a winch
dangling a bucket.
A classic
design.
He
hadn’t expected the well to be a lopsided hole surrounded by misshapen and
broken bricks, with no roof, and situated around the back of an abandoned factory. The place was far from quaint. Everything here was brown. Drab.
Dusty. A desert. Nothing grew here. The ground had been poisoned and forsaken,
left for the sun and wind to weather and wither away any signs of life.
Flower
slunk towards the wishing well, coins jingling expectantly in his pockets,
watched only by the multiple smashed windows, its eyes, of the looming wall of
the factory. He was alone. This place felt like it would be perfect for
a murder of crows or an unkindness of ravens, maybe even a wake of vultures,
but there was no life here, not even a faint caw or croak in the distance. Only the wind sang. It whispered around the factory as it embraced
the derelict walls, rattled the busted windows and doors, and hummed a dirge through
whatever discarded equipment lay within.
He
shivered. It was cold, despite the sun
beating down on the back of his neck, burning.
For a moment, a perfume of cooked flesh hit his nostrils, but it was
only his imagination; his nose craved something other than the dull, earthy
aroma of the dirt behind the factory. And
then another scent snuck up on his senses, crept in under the dirt, the scent
of the stagnant water at the bottom the well.
It wasn’t strong, but enough to quease his stomach. Or was that just nerves?
Flower
leant over the collapsed and disordered wall of the well and stared into the
deep void. He couldn’t see the bottom. The sunlight had reached partway down, but had
lost its nerve and given in to the shadows, which were deeper and darker than
they had any right to be.
He
wondered if this was the right wishing well, with its misshapen hole and
ominous demeanour. Hmm. It was just his nerves playing tricks. This was definitely the right place.
He
reached into his pocket and retrieved a coin.
He paused, fingering the rim, running his thumb over the embossed face
of the Queen. It was now or never.
Flower thought
hard about his wish and flipped the coin into the well.
It seemed
to take forever to hit the water at the bottom; he strained his ears against
the bustling wind until he heard a distant and quiet splash. Then, he waited.
Flower
had expected wishes to come true with a delicate tinkle, a fizz of sparkles, then
fade into existence. Something magical.
His
wish appeared with a sudden and loud ‘pop.’
Pop!
But it
wasn’t his wish.
A
chocolate cupcake, with a thick smattering of buttercream on top, materialised
into his hand. It looked delicious.
He
stared at it, confused and hungry, the wind whipping around him, the sun
glaring down, and wondered if he should…
He
did. Flower ate the cupcake. It started with a bite, but the taste was so moreish,
so flavourful, so satiating, that he couldn’t stop himself. He wolfed down the rest of the cake, chewed
and savoured the moist sponge, the fatty sweet topping, the sumptuous chocolate
chips. The cupcake had been the tastiest
cupcake he’d ever eaten; it’d been full of riches.
It
wasn’t what he’d wished for.
Flower decided
to try again.
He
retrieved another coin from his pocket, he didn’t have many, and tossed it into
the well along with his freshly thought wish.
Pop!
It was another
chocolate cupcake. He glared at the
small treat in his hand, wondering why his wish still hadn’t been granted. He sighed.
It looked just as delectable as the first. His mouth watered… and he scarfed it down
with the same eagerness. It was just as
tasty and rich.
He
wished again, flipping another coin into the pit, and a third cupcake popped
into existence. Hmm. He shouldn’t, but…
Flower indulged half of the delicious
sweet before he was forced to give up; he was beginning to feel sick, and as flavoursome
and rich as the cakes were, three cakes were too much flavour, too much richness,
too sweet and fatty for his stomach to handle.
He sat on the edge of the well,
on the broken bricks, and cradled his belly in his arms.
Urgh.
This wasn’t what he’d expected.
Flower tried again. And again.
And again. Over and over. Each time he wished, each time a loud pop,
and each time he received a chocolate cupcake.
And before he knew it, his pockets were empty of coins.
He screamed his frustrations into
the cold and dusty desert, shouted at the old, abandoned factory, screamed at the
misshapen hole; only the whispering wind replied. No matter how hard he’d tried, how hard he’d
wished, he never got what he wanted.
Only cupcakes.
Flower stood up and threw one of
the cakes into the well.
“Why?!” he cried out. “Why?!!”
He’d wasted his time, his money,
his wishes.
He shoved his hands into his
pockets and turned to walk away, but something stopped him. He paused.
His fingers had brushed against metal, something small and round in his
pocket. Something he’d missed.
Another coin.
His last.
He couldn’t handle anymore cupcakes,
but…
Flower gripped his last coin in
his fist, closed his eyes, and wished his final wish. He tossed the coin in the cursed void. He wished away his wishes, and not just his; he
wished away every wish the damned well had ever granted.
He
listened for the distant splash of the coin, then walked away.
A
delicate tinkle rung out, and the air filled with glittering sprinkles that
fizzed and danced. The factory faded
into nothing. Trees sprouted. Grass grew.
Vibrant and colourful flowers blossomed.
The brown and dusty earth gave way to verdant greens. The scents of nature floated through the
air. Birds sang. Life returned.
And in
the centre of the fresh forest, stood a neat circle of grey stones with two
wooden supports holding up a tiled roof.
And there was a winch, and a bucket.
And no
cupcakes.
The End.
Next Flower Story (coming soon)
