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Pocketful of Tame Wishes

fantasyEveryone
5 contributors · 4 paragraphs deep

Wren followed cold footprints through the dew to the edge of the woods. Marta stood there talking to shadows, pale shapes the wish had made for company. They circled her, whispering, drawing her deeper into the trees. Wren called her name, but Marta didn't turn.

Wren ran between Marta and the shadows and held up the cold blue jar. 'Real friends, not these ghosts,' she said firmly. The pale shapes shivered and scattered into the dawn light. Marta blinked, as if waking from a dream, and let Wren lead her safely home.

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Back at the cottage, Wren spoke kindly into the jar: 'Send her one true friend who stays.' Warmth filled the cold glass, and a neighbor knocked at the door with fresh soup. Marta's loneliness lifted for good. Wren capped the jar, proud of the quiet little kitchen she'd left behind. Mended.

ED
Elif Demir
7 votes · future 1 of 1