[ WP ] I am the wish .

Below the electric blue sky, there are bright yellow meadows sloping and stretching over to kiss the horizon. A beautiful blend of dandelions, perfectly reflecting the afternoon shower of sunlight. This is where I live. 
 
 A young mousy girl with freckled cheeks kneels down behind the falling-apart stone wall, below the drooping tree, in the only small area of darker emerald grass. Fluffy white seed pods stand upright in the summer breeze. She closes her eyes with childhood enthusiasm, forming little wrinkles at the corners, and this is when I begin my glide across the fields, and hover above the girl like an invisible shadow of time. 
 
 `` I *wish, *'' she whispers, eyes still pressed firmly closed, `` that my daddy does n't go to Australia.'' 
 
 A soft innocent blow swirls from her pursed lips and the white fluff hovers into the air and spreads through the sky, soft pure mother nature against the blue backdrop like a crowd of doves. The little girl opens her eyes and drops the empty stem to the shaded ground. She whisks away in wondrous delight, her giggle echoing right down to the wooden farm in the valley, where a farmer probably smiles at the easiness of life. But now I have a job, and so I shadow-hover away in the opposite direction, for I am the wish. 
 
 A knock on the door. The tall slim mother frowns and climbs up from her reposing sofa magazine comfort, and walks over to the front door in bizarre curiosity. She opens it to find two police men, with the red and blue lights flashing behind them. 
 
 `` Mrs. Hemmings?'' asks the short one, both with straight faces. Ah, the soul-crushing silent nod of fear in return. 
 
 `` It's Mr. Hemmings,'' says the policeman. `` He's... he's been in a car crash.'' 
 
 Mrs. Hemmings shakes her head in that awful adult denial. 
 
 `` He's *dead,'' * they say apologetically, holding their hats around their groins, not knowing what else to say. 
 
 Ah, my work is done here. I sail from the pebbledash walls, glide over the prickly hedges and drift away upwards into the shooting star sky, ready to take more commands on this purple evening of delight. *For how many times must I tell you? * Be careful what you wish for, young child. 
 
 
 
 

