Brigit's Flame, April, week #2
Title: Wishing Well
Author: keppiehed
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Word Count: 1980
Prompt: “Mature”
A/N: Written for week #2 at brigits_flame.
The day I most regret had a mermaid in it. How often can a person say that? I remember it as if it just happened, because I relive it every time I close my eyes. Why do we relive our miseries instead of our triumphs? This I can't say, but I do know that I still hear his voice like he is standing right here next to me, as if he just cleared his throat to tell me about another silly something of his.
“I found something.”
There he is, that voice. He always did have a beautiful voice, not that he would sing or any such thing. I was just thinking of him. He is here with me even all these years later. What was it that happened next? Yes, a shadow fell over my book as Sam tried to get my attention. We were outside, and he always wanted to play. It was fine when we'd been little, but he'd never grown out of childhood fancies. I didn't mean to hide from him, I just wanted some peace from his constant nagging. I'd sighed and slipped a blade of grass between the pages to mark the spot. This was going to be a long conversation, I could tell by the worried expression on his face. “What did you find, Sam?” Maybe he wanted to hand me an acorn or a little green frog or show me an overgrown toadstool like the last time.
“Something scary. Promise me you'll stay away, Lindy.” Sam's eyes were wide.
My heart wrenched at the sight of him, serious and trembling. As irritating as he could be, I couldn't stand to leave him this way. Thoughts of an afternoon curled up with my novel fled as I stood and brushed the dirt from my jeans. “Let's go look together.” I held out my hand, knowing he still liked to hold it, even at his age.
“No! You aren't listening. There's something down there. I saw it.” Sam swallowed.
I sighed. “Something down where? What do you think you saw?”
“I don't think I saw it. I did see it.” Sam frowned. “It was there.”
Dealing with Sam required patience. I tried to keep the obvious skepticism off my face. I looked to where he was pointing, down in the bramble patch. There was nothing there, as far as I could tell from where we were standing. “What was it?”
“It was ...” Sam leaned closer to me, “something bad. Something moving, under the ground. In the dark. I saw it.”
“Oh.” I remained silent for a moment. It was true that Sam didn't understand a lot, but it was unlike him to make up things. “I think you'd better show me.”
Sam shook his head. “It's dangerous. It will get you!”
“I'll be careful,” I promised. “I just need to see what it is first. I won't let anything happen. You found it near the old farm?”
Sam nodded and started for the back lot, eagerness to show me his discovery trumping his fear. I trailed him and wondered what we would find. When we had first moved to the house years ago, I'd found the remains of an old foundation on the lot. My budding archaeological skills had drawn me to that patch of land for a whole summer, and I'd turned over the earth with a keen interest, hoping to find some relic of the pioneers who'd come before us. Alas, for all of the hours spent, I'd never found so much as a tarnished spoon. Sam, who followed everywhere in my footsteps, still wandered that part of the property long after I'd given up, and I was curious to see if he'd finally found an artifact.
“It's through here,” he said, scrambling through the vines that had twined around the old stones left standing.
I wrinkled my nose. Sam had matured into a teenager now, but he didn't realize it. His nimbleness was reminiscent of childhood, but I felt my years upon me as I ducked and teetered on the uneven ground. “What were you doing back here in the first place?”
He shrugged. “Hunting for treasure. You said we'd find it someday, so I kept looking.”
When we were kids. I sighed. It was hard to know what he would take to heart. “You should stay out of this mess. There might be ticks.”
Sam ignored me. “We're almost there.” He pointed. “It's just up ahead.”
By the time I'd made my way through the tangle, Sam was crouched on the ground, leaning over a hole. “Here. It's here.”
I frowned. The danger wasn't immediately apparent. “You brought me here to show me a hole?”
Sam backed away from the edge, his eyes wide. “It's down there,” he whispered.
“What?” I said. “A snake?”
“Sh! It'll hear you!”
I went to the hole and found the edge smoother than it first appeared. The top looked like a small circle of earth, but it widened into a sizable shaft. As I peered down, I could see my own reflection staring back. “It's a well,” I said. “You found an old well!”
“Sh!” Sam cried. “It'll hear you! There's something down there!”
“Sam, how did you find this?” I asked. “This hasn't always been here.”
He pointed to a pile of stones. Some of them were flat, indicating their role as a cover to the mouth of the well. “So you've been digging?”
He nodded, still afraid.
“Look, it isn't a person.” I gestured to my duplicate down the well and tried to explain reflection, but he didn't understand. “It's the light on the water. Like a mirror shows a person's face?”
“It can't be a mirror. You said it's water. There's a person in the water?” He was more confused than ever. “Isn't that what a mermaid is?”
“No.” I gritted my teeth. “You know mermaids aren't real.”
“But you just said there's a person in the water. And if this is a well, then I should get a wish!” Sam smiled, pleased with his logic, and crawled to the edge. “Hello?”
Hellllloooo ...
“She talks back!” he said.
“No. Sam, listen. That's your own image you're seeing and your own voice you're hearing,” I said. There was no way he would understand that. I could tell before I was half finished explaining. He was already excited by this new idea and he'd stopped listening.
“I want a wish. Can I please have a wish?” Sam asked, shouting down the well.
aaave a wiiisshhh?
Sam clapped. “It's magic, Lindy!”
“It's not magic.” I rolled my eyes. “Let's go. And promise me you aren't going to play here. Wells are dangerous places. You were right, Sam. This is a bad place. Don't come here again. Okay?”
Sam stuck his lip out in the undeniable precursor to a tantrum. “But I like it here. I don't want to leave.”
“I'm telling Mom.” I rarely used that threat, but I could see the situation spinning out of control and that was an absolute guarantee of compliance. “When she gets home from work, she'll ground you if you don't listen to me.”
Sam's face turned red and his eyes filled with tears. “Lindy! That's not fair!” That was his ultimate insult in return.
“I know. And I'm sorry. But it's not safe. You can play anywhere else, okay? Promise me you'll stay away from here or I'm telling Mom about it. I'm serious.” I stared at him, feeling like a bit of a turncoat for calling Mom on him, but it had to be done. I could tell he was into this mermaid idea and he wasn't going to listen to reason.
He bit his lip until I could see blood. It always made me wince, how he could bite through his own lip in moments of stress. “I promise!” he screamed. “I hate you!”
I'd heard that plenty of times, enough to know he didn't really mean it, but it still hurt. “That's not nice,” I said, trying not to tremble.
Sam turned and dashed through the briar, heedless of the thorns, leaving me alone. I gazed at the well, wondering if I should attempt to cover it again, but I knew that Sam was as good as his word. If he'd promised to leave it alone, he would. He might be mad, but he would stay away from here.
It took me a good deal longer to pick my way clear of the thicket, and once I did there was no sign of Sam. I settled in to read my book, but now that I had time to myself I found I couldn't concentrate. My eyes slid over the words without seeing them. I saw Sam's excited face as he shouted to his mermaid instead. I wondered what he would have wished for. I'd never asked him what he wanted if he could have had anything in the whole world. I'd thought he was happy, but suddenly I wasn't so sure. Everyone wants something more. I couldn't guess what his something more would be, and I wanted to know. I realized I'd been staring at the page without interruption for too long. Sam hadn't come asking to show me a pretty stone he'd found or to point out a cloud that looked like a duck. He was angry, yes, but he was not one to hold a grudge. He shadow should have fallen over my page. I should have seen his goofy grin three times by now.
What happened next was lost to me for a long time. It was only after a great many years that I started to remember. They say that the mind protects itself that way sometimes, like wrapping cotton around the parts that hurt too much, and I can tell you that was true for me. What I do not understand is why it would ever let me remember such a thing. Where is the good in that? I was the one who found him, of course. I was the one who thought it was him crying when really it was me the whole while. Then I couldn't stop, not for so long afterwards. I still wake up crying some nights.
He wanted to have his wish more than he wanted to follow the rules, you see. They closed up the well properly after that, of course they did. A terrible accident, they said. No one blamed me. Not that it mattered what anyone thought, because he was gone just the same. I went back one time and I sat there and listened to the wind. Everything had been filled in and smoothed over and it was as if the place had never existed at all. I couldn't look down anymore to see where he'd died, so I just listened. I left a stone for him to show I'd been there. A four leaf clover. A handful of dandelion fluff. Just all of those little things he liked so much. I never went back again because there was nothing of him in that place. There were no mermaids there and no magic and definitely no wishes, even though I wished with all my heart that day for it to have been a terrible mistake.
But I did hear his voice from then on. He's been with me ever since. It was the first thing I remembered, afterwards, when it didn't hurt so much to think of him. I close my eyes and I can hear him talking to me so clearly, it's as if he's right here. I will turn to tell him something before I realize it's just a memory. When everything else has faded and blurred in time, I have that. He had such a beautiful voice, he always did. I will remember it forever.
Author: keppiehed
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Word Count: 1980
Prompt: “Mature”
A/N: Written for week #2 at brigits_flame.
The day I most regret had a mermaid in it. How often can a person say that? I remember it as if it just happened, because I relive it every time I close my eyes. Why do we relive our miseries instead of our triumphs? This I can't say, but I do know that I still hear his voice like he is standing right here next to me, as if he just cleared his throat to tell me about another silly something of his.
“I found something.”
There he is, that voice. He always did have a beautiful voice, not that he would sing or any such thing. I was just thinking of him. He is here with me even all these years later. What was it that happened next? Yes, a shadow fell over my book as Sam tried to get my attention. We were outside, and he always wanted to play. It was fine when we'd been little, but he'd never grown out of childhood fancies. I didn't mean to hide from him, I just wanted some peace from his constant nagging. I'd sighed and slipped a blade of grass between the pages to mark the spot. This was going to be a long conversation, I could tell by the worried expression on his face. “What did you find, Sam?” Maybe he wanted to hand me an acorn or a little green frog or show me an overgrown toadstool like the last time.
“Something scary. Promise me you'll stay away, Lindy.” Sam's eyes were wide.
My heart wrenched at the sight of him, serious and trembling. As irritating as he could be, I couldn't stand to leave him this way. Thoughts of an afternoon curled up with my novel fled as I stood and brushed the dirt from my jeans. “Let's go look together.” I held out my hand, knowing he still liked to hold it, even at his age.
“No! You aren't listening. There's something down there. I saw it.” Sam swallowed.
I sighed. “Something down where? What do you think you saw?”
“I don't think I saw it. I did see it.” Sam frowned. “It was there.”
Dealing with Sam required patience. I tried to keep the obvious skepticism off my face. I looked to where he was pointing, down in the bramble patch. There was nothing there, as far as I could tell from where we were standing. “What was it?”
“It was ...” Sam leaned closer to me, “something bad. Something moving, under the ground. In the dark. I saw it.”
“Oh.” I remained silent for a moment. It was true that Sam didn't understand a lot, but it was unlike him to make up things. “I think you'd better show me.”
Sam shook his head. “It's dangerous. It will get you!”
“I'll be careful,” I promised. “I just need to see what it is first. I won't let anything happen. You found it near the old farm?”
Sam nodded and started for the back lot, eagerness to show me his discovery trumping his fear. I trailed him and wondered what we would find. When we had first moved to the house years ago, I'd found the remains of an old foundation on the lot. My budding archaeological skills had drawn me to that patch of land for a whole summer, and I'd turned over the earth with a keen interest, hoping to find some relic of the pioneers who'd come before us. Alas, for all of the hours spent, I'd never found so much as a tarnished spoon. Sam, who followed everywhere in my footsteps, still wandered that part of the property long after I'd given up, and I was curious to see if he'd finally found an artifact.
“It's through here,” he said, scrambling through the vines that had twined around the old stones left standing.
I wrinkled my nose. Sam had matured into a teenager now, but he didn't realize it. His nimbleness was reminiscent of childhood, but I felt my years upon me as I ducked and teetered on the uneven ground. “What were you doing back here in the first place?”
He shrugged. “Hunting for treasure. You said we'd find it someday, so I kept looking.”
When we were kids. I sighed. It was hard to know what he would take to heart. “You should stay out of this mess. There might be ticks.”
Sam ignored me. “We're almost there.” He pointed. “It's just up ahead.”
By the time I'd made my way through the tangle, Sam was crouched on the ground, leaning over a hole. “Here. It's here.”
I frowned. The danger wasn't immediately apparent. “You brought me here to show me a hole?”
Sam backed away from the edge, his eyes wide. “It's down there,” he whispered.
“What?” I said. “A snake?”
“Sh! It'll hear you!”
I went to the hole and found the edge smoother than it first appeared. The top looked like a small circle of earth, but it widened into a sizable shaft. As I peered down, I could see my own reflection staring back. “It's a well,” I said. “You found an old well!”
“Sh!” Sam cried. “It'll hear you! There's something down there!”
“Sam, how did you find this?” I asked. “This hasn't always been here.”
He pointed to a pile of stones. Some of them were flat, indicating their role as a cover to the mouth of the well. “So you've been digging?”
He nodded, still afraid.
“Look, it isn't a person.” I gestured to my duplicate down the well and tried to explain reflection, but he didn't understand. “It's the light on the water. Like a mirror shows a person's face?”
“It can't be a mirror. You said it's water. There's a person in the water?” He was more confused than ever. “Isn't that what a mermaid is?”
“No.” I gritted my teeth. “You know mermaids aren't real.”
“But you just said there's a person in the water. And if this is a well, then I should get a wish!” Sam smiled, pleased with his logic, and crawled to the edge. “Hello?”
Hellllloooo ...
“She talks back!” he said.
“No. Sam, listen. That's your own image you're seeing and your own voice you're hearing,” I said. There was no way he would understand that. I could tell before I was half finished explaining. He was already excited by this new idea and he'd stopped listening.
“I want a wish. Can I please have a wish?” Sam asked, shouting down the well.
aaave a wiiisshhh?
Sam clapped. “It's magic, Lindy!”
“It's not magic.” I rolled my eyes. “Let's go. And promise me you aren't going to play here. Wells are dangerous places. You were right, Sam. This is a bad place. Don't come here again. Okay?”
Sam stuck his lip out in the undeniable precursor to a tantrum. “But I like it here. I don't want to leave.”
“I'm telling Mom.” I rarely used that threat, but I could see the situation spinning out of control and that was an absolute guarantee of compliance. “When she gets home from work, she'll ground you if you don't listen to me.”
Sam's face turned red and his eyes filled with tears. “Lindy! That's not fair!” That was his ultimate insult in return.
“I know. And I'm sorry. But it's not safe. You can play anywhere else, okay? Promise me you'll stay away from here or I'm telling Mom about it. I'm serious.” I stared at him, feeling like a bit of a turncoat for calling Mom on him, but it had to be done. I could tell he was into this mermaid idea and he wasn't going to listen to reason.
He bit his lip until I could see blood. It always made me wince, how he could bite through his own lip in moments of stress. “I promise!” he screamed. “I hate you!”
I'd heard that plenty of times, enough to know he didn't really mean it, but it still hurt. “That's not nice,” I said, trying not to tremble.
Sam turned and dashed through the briar, heedless of the thorns, leaving me alone. I gazed at the well, wondering if I should attempt to cover it again, but I knew that Sam was as good as his word. If he'd promised to leave it alone, he would. He might be mad, but he would stay away from here.
It took me a good deal longer to pick my way clear of the thicket, and once I did there was no sign of Sam. I settled in to read my book, but now that I had time to myself I found I couldn't concentrate. My eyes slid over the words without seeing them. I saw Sam's excited face as he shouted to his mermaid instead. I wondered what he would have wished for. I'd never asked him what he wanted if he could have had anything in the whole world. I'd thought he was happy, but suddenly I wasn't so sure. Everyone wants something more. I couldn't guess what his something more would be, and I wanted to know. I realized I'd been staring at the page without interruption for too long. Sam hadn't come asking to show me a pretty stone he'd found or to point out a cloud that looked like a duck. He was angry, yes, but he was not one to hold a grudge. He shadow should have fallen over my page. I should have seen his goofy grin three times by now.
What happened next was lost to me for a long time. It was only after a great many years that I started to remember. They say that the mind protects itself that way sometimes, like wrapping cotton around the parts that hurt too much, and I can tell you that was true for me. What I do not understand is why it would ever let me remember such a thing. Where is the good in that? I was the one who found him, of course. I was the one who thought it was him crying when really it was me the whole while. Then I couldn't stop, not for so long afterwards. I still wake up crying some nights.
He wanted to have his wish more than he wanted to follow the rules, you see. They closed up the well properly after that, of course they did. A terrible accident, they said. No one blamed me. Not that it mattered what anyone thought, because he was gone just the same. I went back one time and I sat there and listened to the wind. Everything had been filled in and smoothed over and it was as if the place had never existed at all. I couldn't look down anymore to see where he'd died, so I just listened. I left a stone for him to show I'd been there. A four leaf clover. A handful of dandelion fluff. Just all of those little things he liked so much. I never went back again because there was nothing of him in that place. There were no mermaids there and no magic and definitely no wishes, even though I wished with all my heart that day for it to have been a terrible mistake.
But I did hear his voice from then on. He's been with me ever since. It was the first thing I remembered, afterwards, when it didn't hurt so much to think of him. I close my eyes and I can hear him talking to me so clearly, it's as if he's right here. I will turn to tell him something before I realize it's just a memory. When everything else has faded and blurred in time, I have that. He had such a beautiful voice, he always did. I will remember it forever.