Fiction

Willow's Well is a well that is said to grant wishes-at least, that's what the locals say. You can only make one wish though, and it's likely it'll never come true, for the Well is said to only ever grant a worthy wish.

"Where did I put my nuts?" I cry as the parade of daily dogs rolls by "Where could they possibly be?" Growler trots up to my tree, a concerned look on his face "You lose your marbles, Joey?" "NUTS!

The sun shines down in brilliant rays of divine light. Head tilted up as we walk, those rays get interrupted by stalks of luscious trees. I turn my head back to where we walk and see new friends approaching.

On Sunday evening, after a long day at work, I stood by the edge of a bridge. I had stopped by my house before this. Donned my flowy white dress, my favorite. Written a note. The walk here was unnerving.

I reach a brick motel, its walls strung with webs gleaming under the full moon. The cacophonous crows and zooming cars have washed away the motel’s soul, leaving it numb and still amidst the rush.

I’m Nobody! Who are you?
Are you – Nobody – too?

Words drift by me, leading up to the great night sky. I watch them, all spiraling from an open book. The book has a sort of magic coming from it, an essence. I walk toward the book and hold out my hand above it. In my palm appears a word.

In the village, the sun was always tucked dutifully underneath sheets of clouds, and the wind was always brisk and energetic, and the people of the village were always horribly regimented.

Joad sat watching Abe jump over and over again. The silly little dog found this activity captivating as it was annoying.

Set on a lone countryside, the sun shines brightly.

A little toddler, in too-big garden gloves and dirtied overalls holds out a sapling. She kneels down and sets the sapling down…

Two years later

I woke up in the dark, but I was dreaming. Memories of salt and scales. Turbulent clouds and cloying air that choked me. I searched for the ocean rhythm and found only a syncopated beat interrupted by static.