The Wishing Stone - one scene

 

 

It was nothing more than a regular rock we had found on a camping trip to Deep Creek as kids.  Kate would stroke it three times and then make a wish. 

It had started just before we were to return home.  She had wished for the folks to stop and get us an ice cream for the ride home... and they did.

The following week, she wished for a new notebook for school and the next day it appeared in her room.  It didn't happen every time but it did more often than not so it became our wishing stone.  As we grew older it became the conduit between us.  We would take turns holding it, talking for hours before making our wish.

Kate was its guardian, swearing to use it only for good and only when the two of us were together.  It became a regular ritual  between us.  We wished for large things and small, all with equal desire that they would come true.  Once a week, it gave each of us an opportunity to vent our frustrations and to express our desire to make things right with the world. 

Slowly, as I grew older, my interest began to wane.  My wishes became more trivial and I had less and less time to share with her so I began to concentrate on making her wishes come true.  It made me feel good to secretly fulfill her modest desires.  The stone had changed from secret dreams to open communication between us.   

Eventually, each of us gained new obligations that left little time for the wishing stone.  Kate had gone off to college and I had dropped out.  We saw each other at least once a month... at least until our parents died.  From that moment to her last, we were joined at the hip.  She looked after me far more than I did her and the wishing stone became a thing of the past.

Two years later, after our parents' death, New Years Eve, it reappeared.  I thought it had been lost long before and was surprised by its return.  We spent the night talking, endlessly talking, and it made me feel like I was no longer lost in my grief, no longer alone.

At midnight we made our wish.  Hers came true eight months later when she met Roger.  I was still waiting.

After that, each year on New Years Eve, the wishing stone was passed from hand to hand, first to Kate, then Roger, then me. 

The last time we used it was at the hospital the morning she died.

On that day, all three of us made a silent wish, certain the others had wished the same.  Kate died that afternoon and I never thought about it again. It was the last time I believed in magic, in love or... in the existance of God.

 

 

Reviews

[Julie McCarthy (juliesp..]

thanks so much for re entering into my current losing faith competition, good luck, stilllove it.

[Julie McCarthy (juliesp..]

thanks for entering this heartfelt story into my contest, i had tears in my eyes in the end. thanks so much for a poignant story almost like a fairytale about the wishing stone. Its a true story I can see that and wasnt expecting the sad ending of the loss of your dear friend of all those years. WE need magic in our lives and that wishing stone brought you that except at the end with her passing. No amount of magic worked there, thanks so much for this beautiful piece of work, good luck. x

[WillaDanvers]

This brought tears to my eyes! This is amazing and moving, and very realistic!

[dwane803]

This is a moving story. I thought the foreshadowing her death in the line after her parents death a nice touch. Good job. Look forward to reading more of your works.

[Sebastian Romero]

Good, simple, not too long. Very impressive and moving. I want to see more of these 2 (or 3 counting Roger)!! :)

[Zabella]

Wow. The two grow apart as they grow older. Very moving!! Please keep writing,

[Persona]

I like the symbolism of the stone. You call it one scene but it's set in lots of places: the creek, some vague new years eve time period and the hospital. The idea of the story is good, but you're just narrating a story, telling me step by step. I don't feel any emotion and when Kate die, it comes out of nowhere. Hint that she's sick or will die somewhere beforehand so the reader can worry about her mortality.

[Scarlett Psyphal]

Wow, that was just.... Well, to say the least, it made something in me move a little. Which is saying a lot.

[Gianna Dale]

What a beautiful story. It was well written, too. Great job.

[Carnation]

A beautiful sad story. So sad that it made me cry, and that doesn't happen very of so.... *round of applsuse*
Thanks for sharing and thanks for entering!