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

[Admiral Kirk]

This almost made me cry... :) Thanks for entering. If no one comes around with something better, you might win the most poerful short/long work... :D Thanks again, and great story. Very powerful.

[Octob3r Star]

That was really beautiful :)

[Craig2591]

A beautiful and poignant story! Well written.

[Wendy Seames Garner]

Oh Tegon, I really like this, but I'm wondering...is it true?

[puppetmaster]

I disagree with the Lady Thousand. I think the vagueness is what makes it here. This was really well written. Thank you for submitting it.

[swati]

love it .. more of a story then a poem ......wondering if it is an imagination or truth

[Archia]

Awww that is so sad. Beautiful and sad. The last line is brilliant (it has so much more impact when its's with the rest of the story). I love how the story passes over time, and then ends with a death.

[Ice Girl]

That was really tragic. I cried and loved it!