In the heart of a wood which lost its name long ago, is a place where a seeker of stories
may go.
If you've arrived in a story's your desire, come, take a seat, for what you require is
a tale from the second storytime.
Hello and thank you for joining me.
If it feels a touch drafty in here today, I do apologize.
I have the fireplace going and everything, but I still seem to have a bit of a chill
that I just can't seem to shake.
Well, much like the stories in this tower, the weather can be, uh, rather unpredictable.
I hope it warms up soon.
Perhaps later I'll see if I can find a story about a meteorologist.
Ah, but in spite of the climate, your company is always welcome.
And maybe a good story will be just the thing to distract from whatever is causing that draft.
I have a bit of an odd one for you today.
I found this book when it popped out of my toaster this morning.
Must be a good sign.
So either I'm about to read you a delightful tale, or I've finally snapped and I'm about
to read you a piece of toast.
Either way, I'm sure you'll be quite enchanted.
Now, let's see if we can dispel this chill then, shall we?
Rocks and Fishies
Anne ran her hand through our absolute mess of hair, tearing a plastic clip from the wreckage.
A few stray follicles escaped with the accessory, as the little girl reverently placed the hair
clip on top of a small pile of rocks.
What's that?
Asked a soft voice from just behind her, bug-castle, Anne replied.
Why is it under the seesaw, the voice inquired?
Because nobody uses it, and it's quiet under the middle, Anne answered before turning around.
Plopped into the seat of the seesaw behind her was a little girl who looked about the
same age as Anne.
She had bright yellow hair that looked smooth and silky, especially compared to Anne's.
Want to play sharks and fishies, Anne?
Asked the mysterious girl.
You guessed my name!
Anne blinked in surprise.
Your dad told me.
I'm Emma, said Emma, who pointed in the direction of a picnic table where Anne's father sat,
looking at his phone, a notebook, and pen, sitting patiently on the table in front of
him.
Hi, Emma.
So what's sharks and fishies?
To Anne's utter delight, sharks and fishies turned out to be an even better version of
tag.
Being a shark and chasing a fish was infinitely more fun than simply being it.
Initially, Emma was the shark.
No matter where Anne tried to run, Emma seemed to be several steps ahead and tagged her new
friend easily.
Anne had already run so hard trying to avoid Emma that giving Chase almost felt impossible.
Emma was fast and always seemed to dart out of reach at the last moment.
Finally, Anne pretended that she was a great white shark and jumped at Emma, knocking her
to the ground.
Emma fell in a fit of delight and giggles, but Anne jumped up and turned away quickly.
Hey, what's wrong?
You were a great shark, Anne, Emma laughed.
A dumb truck, you mean, Anne grumbled, scrunching her hands into chubby fists.
Huh?
Emma stood up and approached Anne to find small tears collecting in the corners of her
eyes.
When I play with kids at preschool, I always tag too hard, just like now.
Mike Fripp said it's because I'm like a dumb truck.
Now all the kids call me dumb truck and I hate it.
Anne sniffed as the tears threatened to escape her eyes like rain out of an ominous cloud.
Emma laughed.
It's kind of funny.
You're stronger than you look in.
The ominous cloud burst.
It's not funny.
Boys don't get made fun of when they shove too hard and now I have to be called dumb
truck forever.
I wish nobody would call me that again.
Anne cried.
Gently, Emma took Anne's hands.
Do you really wish?
I can help you if you can keep a secret.
Emma offered in a whisper.
It took a minute for the tears to subside, but Emma seemed to be in no rush.
I can keep a secret.
Anne replied finally.
Emma led Anne to a shady tree and the two girls sat only just out of sight of the picnic
table where Anne's father was efficiently procrastinating.
Okay, so I have a big secret, but you can't tell anybody ever, Emma whispered.
I won't.
Anne answered, Nuh-uh.
You gotta swear that you won't tell anybody what I'm gonna tell you.
I won't.
Cross my heart and needle-eye.
Anne tried to make the most serious face she could manage.
Okay, I bet you won't believe me, though, Emma sighed.
I believe you, Emma, Anne gasped.
You say so, but you won't when I tell you, Emma shook her head.
Will so, Anne insisted, the tiniest hint of tears forming in her eyes again.
Okay, I can grant wishes, Emma smiled.
Like fairies in stories, Anne almost shouted, be quiet.
Anne put her hands over her mouth in apology.
Well, something like that.
Does that make you a fairy?
Anne's face was the definition of wonderment.
I just really like playing sharks and fishies with you, Anne, Emma giggled.
So you can make the kids stop calling me dump truck?
How?
Anne demanded.
All you have to do is give up something useless, Emma explained.
Like a rock, Anne suggested.
Emma giggled again and shook her head.
No, it has to come from you.
Something like your freckles.
Anne glanced at her arms and the wealth of tiny dots running rampant over them.
My freckles?
They're useless?
Sure.
Emma explained.
I mean, they don't really do anything.
And if you still have them as a grown-up, you'll get made fun of all the time.
Might as well let me turn them into a wish for you.
Anne frowned.
She never given that much thought to her own freckles before.
Or, Emma continued, you can keep being a dump truck.
Okay, okay.
What do I do?
Anne begged.
First, close your eyes, Emma instructed.
Anne scrunched her eyes shut until it felt like she could see the static inside the darkness
of her eyelids.
And all you have to say, Emma continued, is, Emma, please take away my freckles and make
my wish come true.
Thank you.
You gotta say it just like that, with the thank you at the end.
Anne took in a deep breath and thought about her wish.
It suddenly felt like Emma's hands were very cold.
Not like forgetting your coat in the winter, but the only word Anne could think of was
cold.
Emma, please take my freckles and make my wish come true.
Thank you.
She suddenly bellowed.
Emma let go of Anne and toppled over with a yelp.
As Anne opened her eyes for a second, she thought that Emma looked strange but couldn't describe
how.
Nothing about Emma was too pointy.
Anne rubbed her eyes.
It felt like there were tiny shadows in the very corners of each eye.
But she forgot this thought quickly as she helped Emma.
Why did you say that last part so loud?
Emma laughed.
Because it was the important part, Anne laughed back.
You okay, sweetie?
Anne's father had wandered over to verify his daughter was still behind the tree.
We're fine.
I was just playing with Emma, Anne declared.
Emma, Anne's father asked.
Anne turned over to discover the mischievous girl with the bright yellow hair had silently
vanished.
Oh, she just went home with her mommy, Anne explained, though she hadn't seen it happen.
About time for us to head home too, kiddo.
Anne's father picked her up and headed for the car.
The very next day, nobody in Anne's class called her dump truck proof of Emma's magic.
Gradually of the next week, Anne's freckles faded away too, although she barely noticed.
It would be a few years before Anne and Emma saw each other again.
But this didn't seem strange to Anne.
She mostly just remembered a warm afternoon when Emma taught her sharks and fishies.
Anne was almost finished with the eighth grade the second time she met Emma.
Crumpled paper formed a crinkly sea that surrounded Anne as she sat on a bright pink comforter
on her canopy bed.
A knock at the door was followed by Anne's mother entering the room.
Anne?
You okay, honey?
Her mom asked carefully.
Sure, mom, Anne responded, face obscured by a notebook, her chaos of curly hair peaking
sneakily out from behind the pages.
I know that dress rehearsal for the talent show didn't go quite the way you wanted.
Anne's mother absentmindedly started gathering paper balls that had managed to stray from
behind the bed.
Yeah, I don't get it.
I keep trying to make the song better, but I don't know what to add.
Anne grumbled as she threw another drop of paper into the increasing scribble sea.
You've still got your heart set on the song about the robot shark, right?
Anne's mother asked with a very specific tone in her voice.
Yeah, I keep thinking it was too scary, but it needs to be scary.
It's a robotic shark powered by eating bikinis.
Maybe eating bikinis isn't scary enough, but that's the funny part.
That makes it good.
Anne rambled as her face sorted through multiple variations of frustrated concentration.
Yes, well, Anne's here to see you.
I thought you might be able to help.
Anne's mother interrupted her daughter's chaos.
Anne's face brightened up and she jumped off the bed.
Awesome!
Emma missed dress rehearsal today, but I bet she'll like my song.
And she might be able to help you make it better too.
Emma has always been a good influence on you.
Anne's mother made a quick attempt to tame her daughter's hair and nearly sacrificed
the brush to the undefeatable mess.
Huh?
Anne felt like she had missed something as her mother managed to dislodge that hairbrush.
Emma just has a way of smoothing out your rough edges and taming your stubbornness,
you know?
Anne shrugged, hurrying out of her room, down the hallway to find Emma in the living room.
She sat patiently in a sturdy green armchair, a small black case in her lap.
Emma, why weren't you at dress rehearsal today?
Anne demanded as she landed on the couch.
I was, Emma started, but was interrupted by Anne's mother.
Girls, I have to run a couple of errands and pick up Dad from work.
I'll be back in a bit.
Okay, Miss Peake, Emma called cheerfully as the front door closed.
Emma turned her attention back to Anne.
I didn't need dress rehearsal.
I've been playing the flute for ages and I picked an easy song for the talent show.
I wish I was as good as singing as you are playing the flute, Anne slouched over on the
couch as though her skeleton had also left to run some errands.
Did rehearsal not go well?
Emma asked.
No, Anne sighed into the depths of an ugly throw pillow.
I sang the entire song and nobody clapped when I was done.
It was like nobody was even paying attention, but I've been writing shark lips for months.
My singing voice just sucks.
Your song is called Shark Lips, Emma laughed, the delight radiating on her face.
Yeah, you're gonna think it's gonna be like I meant to say Shark Pockalips, but it's
an epic song about a robot shark that eats bikinis and terrorizes a town.
It's only stopped when it's accidentally kissed by a pretty girl, confused by the human
concept of love the robot shark explodes and bikinis frame from the sky for three days.
That is the best thing I have ever heard, Emma gasped, slapping the coffee table with
both her hands for emphasis.
Right?
Anne blailed.
Most kids would just write a song about some hot surfer smooching a girl.
You just don't ever hear songs about robot sharks, Emma remarked.
Yeah, I just wish that I could sing better, Anne pouted.
Emma set up very straight.
Well, you should have told me sooner then.
Anne raised an eyebrow to her best friend.
Why?
Oh, could you back me up with your flute?
It would make my voice sound better.
Emma pulsed to consider this.
It's not a bad idea.
Sure, teach me the song and we could perform together.
That'll be way more fun than the boring song that I was going to play.
I did have one other idea though.
What's that?
Well, you could wish for a better singing voice and I could grant that wish for you.
Remember?
Like way back when we first met.
Emma drummed her fingers on the flute case.
Anne stared into the distance for a moment as she recalled the memory as though staring
through a telescope towards an object barely on the horizon.
Her attention briefly flitting to the tiny dark spots in the very corners of her vision.
Oh yeah, that was forever ago.
Wait, that really happened?
I was mad about something and you made it better.
Anne murmured.
You traded your freckles for it.
Emma reminded.
Anne glanced at her arms.
I did?
I don't even remember having freckles.
Yeah, Emma replied, scratching at the collection of freckles on her own arm.
That's the best part.
You get to trade in something useless and you get your wish granted.
Win-win for you.
What should I give up then?
Anne asked eagerly.
Here's an idea.
Your folks are always saying that you're way too stubborn, right?
Why not give up your stubbornness for a better singing voice?
Emma offered.
No way!
It can't be that easy.
I thought you said I had to give up something to make a wish.
I would get to sing better and my parents would stop telling me I'm too stubborn and
challenged.
Yep, easy as that.
Said Emma, standing and reaching her hands out.
All you have to do is take my hands and say, Emma, please take my stubbornness away and
make my wish come true.
Thank you.
Anne jumped off the couch and grabbed her friend's hands.
Blah!
What's with your hands?
You're so cold and clammy!
Anne laughed without letting go.
They're always like that, Emma smiled.
Anne closed her eyes.
Emma, please take my stubbornness and make my wish come true.
Thank you!
After shouting the last bit, Anne felt dizzy for a second and took a step backwards.
When she opened her eyes, it felt like there were dark circles around her vision.
A bit like looking through binoculars.
Anne, are you okay?
You didn't have to shout the last bit, you know.
Emma reached out for her friend.
Anne slapped away the jagged line that reached towards her.
Before realizing it was just Emma's arm.
She was too distracted to think about the dark circles in her vision.
The dizziness must have disoriented her.
Sorry, sorry, I'm okay.
I didn't mean to hit you.
I had felt weird for a second.
Anne grabbed Emma's hand and touched it gently.
I'm fine.
It must just be the magic.
Teach me your song.
We should start practicing, Emma assured her friend.
Anne hesitated.
Hey, your idea before about a guy smooching a girl on the beach, do you think people like
that idea more?
Emma began assembling her flute.
I mean it's a pretty safe idea.
Would probably win a talent show.
After a few minutes of discussion, Anne and Emma rewrote Sharklips into a song called
Shark Beach, about a beautiful woman falling in love with a handsome lifeguard after saving
her from a shark attack.
Emma walked home before Anne's parents returned, despite Anne's insistence that she stayed
for dinner.
Shark Beach was a hit of the talent show.
Emma in particular was praised for her flute performance, and it was awarded first place.
She had insisted that Anne keep the trophy.
Emma was an indispensable friend for Anne once they reached high school.
Emma made friends easily and had an assertive quality that everyone seemed to gravitate
towards.
This made approaching her between classes difficult.
Emma had a constant swarm of busy girls around her that were annoyed whenever Anne showed
up.
In spite of this, Emma made time every morning to meet with Anne in one of the bathrooms
to help her friend with her makeup.
One morning, Emma entered the bathroom to find a distinct absence of Anne.
Why are you hiding in the stall, Anne?
Emma asked, leaning against the only stall door that was closed.
There was no response, prompting Emma to reach over the top of the door and pluck a backpack
off its hook.
The goldfish print on the bag confirmed the identity of its owner.
Well, I'd better bring that fishy her backpack since she clearly isn't here.
Emma said loudly, making pronounced footsteps on the echoey tiles towards the bathroom door.
The stall door opened slowly, and Anne stepped out, her eyes puffy and red.
An avalanche of messy hair fell aggressively over Anne's shoulders as she asked.
You have an extra elastic?
Mine snapped.
Emma smiled and fished a hair elastic from her pocket, handing it to her friend along
with the backpack.
Emma stared up as usual because Anne was easily a foot taller than herself.
Anne snatched both and hurriedly contained as much of the hairstorm as possible with
the elastic.
A handful of wisps and curls expressively refused, but it would have to do as Anne rummaged
in her backpack.
Not much time before class.
Let me help you fix up your face.
Emma authored, taking the small black makeup case out of Anne's bag and unzipping it.
You're just gonna ditch class anyway.
What do you care?
Anne grumbled.
True, but you don't want to be late, right?
Emma asked, handing a tube of something to her best friend.
I don't understand how you're never in class and never get in trouble for it.
Emma shrugged.
I pass all the tests and the teacher don't really notice if you're there or not.
They'd notice if I wasn't there.
Well, only the teacher would notice.
Anne rubbed concealer under her eyes to minimize the puffiness.
What's up with you today?
Where do I have to drag it out of you?
Emma peered at her friend's face through the reflection in the bathroom mirror.
What?
It's nothing.
Anne pouted.
Come on.
Are we best friends or what?
Emma asked, touching Anne on the shoulder gently.
You're just gonna laugh at me.
No way, Emma insisted.
Fine.
Anne sighed.
I asked Zach Richards to prom and it went exactly as well as you'd expect, so I don't
know why you wouldn't laugh.
Everyone else is.
You did?
What did he say?
Asked Emma brightly.
Anne turned away from the mirror and gave Emma an incredulous look.
Emma frowned and waved her hands to shoe her careless response away.
Okay, okay.
What happened then?
How badly am I gonna have to beat the shit out of Zach Richards?
He wasn't that mean about it, Anne moped.
More like, brutally honest.
He said I was really nice, but I'm just way too big and heavy.
He said it'd be like dancing with a giant.
And that's not what he was picturing for prom.
Big and heavy?
That asshole.
I mean, sure you're tall, but you're not fat.
You're strong enough to snap Zach in half and throw him across the parking lot.
I know.
Ever since I joined Track and Field freshman year, I gained muscle so easily it just makes
me all blocky.
Add that to my height.
I'm basically a troll.
Anne returned to the mirror to apply her mascara.
Guys like Zach are stupid and short-sighted.
They just want to look cool, while some beautiful bimbo just swooned into their arms.
You wouldn't have any fun with him at prom anyways.
I know I won't, Emma remarked.
Anne whirled from the mirror, wielding a mascara brush.
What do you mean you won't?
I won't have any fun with Zach Richards at prom.
He just asked me before I came in here.
I only said yes because everybody's going with someone or other.
I'll ditch him as soon as we get there.
Emma smirked.
Ugh.
Anne kicked the side of the bathroom stall and left an admirable dent in the ugly brown
surface.
Emma gave her friend a hug.
Oh jeez, Anne.
I'm sorry.
If it makes you feel that upset, I won't go with Zach.
I can find somebody else to go with.
Anne returned the hug, determined not to let tears ruin the makeup she'd finally finished
applying.
She put away the mascara with this conviction.
No, Emma, it's fine.
I'm not angry with you.
I just…
I wish I wasn't so big and awkward.
Emma took a step back and smiled at her best friend.
It took Anne a second to realize why.
Even then, she felt a little silly when she asked the question.
Hey, Emma.
Do you remember when we were kids?
And I granted a wish or two for you, Emma winked.
Yeah, sometimes I think it was just a game we used to play.
But I still have that talent show trophy as proof.
Anne continued.
She also momentarily considered the faint dark circles around her vision, though she couldn't
remember the last time she noticed them.
You'd like to be less awkward around boys, right?
I'll need something pretty decent in exchange, Emma pondered.
But you can do it, right?
Anne pleaded.
Well, I can make you less awkward, but you have to give up your muscles, Emma nodded.
Anne blinked.
I won't be able to move.
Oh, no, I don't mean like literally removing them from your body.
I mean their size.
It's probably not a great idea, though.
You'd be done with track and field for sure.
Seriously, I don't even like track and field all that much.
Joining was my dad's idea.
This has always been the best part, Emma.
Instead of solving one problem, it's like your wishes get two birds with one stone.
Anne chirped happily.
That's the idea, said Emma, holding out her hands.
Do I need to remind you of the words?
Anne closed her eyes and took Emma's hands to confirm that you remembered.
I always forget how cold your hands are, Anne frowned.
What's wrong with that?
Asked Emma.
It doesn't ever bother you?
Why should it?
Emma retorted.
Anne dismissed the issue and took in a breath.
Emma, please take my muscles and…
She paused without opening her eyes.
Make my wish come true.
Another pause before she shouted, Thank you!
The last words echoed chaotically through the bathroom.
She heard Emma laughing as she opened her eyes.
Anne's vision felt blurry for a second.
It caused her to see a dark shadowy shape in the bathroom mirror before she looked down
at Emma.
Her best friend somehow seemed slightly further away, but it wasn't their height difference
at fault.
Anne put out a hand but misjudged the distance and nearly toppled over.
Emma moved quickly to support her friend.
I don't think I'm any shorter, Emma.
You don't have to be shorter for this magic to work.
Emma giggled as she helped Anne towards the door.
You're not crazy strong like you were before, so it'll take time to adjust.
Don't worry, you'll be perfectly okay.
Emma supported Anne as they left the bathroom.
A smile flashed over Emma's face as she saw someone approaching and she gave Anne a wink.
Hey, Fripp!
I'm leaving this one to you!
Emma shouted at a boy walking past them.
Mike Fripp turned bewildered as Emma shoved Anne in his direction.
Completely unprepared, Mike caught the unsteady Anne.
Well, hey, wait a second!
Mike objected.
I gotta get to class!
Make sure she gets to the nurse's office or I'm gonna put a curse on you, Fripp!
Emma threatened as she raced down the hallway.
The last thing Anne saw before passing out was the panicked face of Mike Fripp shouting
something, but Anne could not hear the words.
Anne woke up later in the nurse's office when her parents arrived to take her home.
She was still as tall as ever, but felt like a strong wind could topple her at any moment.
Anne was not used to the feeling, and it took her a few days to adjust to a body with so
much less muscle.
Her depth perception appeared to be permanently skewed as well.
Anne's doctor could not find anything specifically wrong and assured Anne's parents that it
must be the chaos of teen years.
But to Anne's delight in the delight of her parents, a very diligent young man named
Mike Fripp began texting Anne every single day to check in on her.
After about a week, Anne returned to school to find Mike Fripp waiting at her locker with
a huge bouquet of roses as a promposal.
Emma and Anne celebrated after school, making plans for what was sure to be the most fantastic
night of their lives.
On a rainy evening one March, as college graduation loomed before Anne, she settled herself at
a high-top table in the corner of a familiar restaurant.
It had become her usual spot when she needed time for herself to pour a gimlet over her
thoughts.
She and Emma had drifted out of contact in the way that many do.
As texting calls became less frequent, the guilt of her falling out of touch increased
in Anne, until the thought of attempting to rebuild that bridge felt like an inherent selfish
one.
As a result, Anne had not spoken to her childhood friend in at least three years.
Anne resembled a willow tree, long body and limbs perpetually bent, and at the mercy of
the slightest change in the wind.
Her hair was twisted into a few braids, forming a poised crown.
The braids tugged constantly at Anne's scalp.
When Emma walked towards the high-top table, Anne thought that her friend, by contrast,
looked like a ship's figurehead.
Whatever life had been throwing at Emma, she looked as though she had never spent a day
turned away from it, ready to power her way through the roughest storm with an expression
of ease.
Your mom said you'd be here.
Said I should check up on you, Emma smirked.
Emma, you look fantastic.
I was just thinking about you.
Sorry that I haven't...
Anne sighed, but Emma wasn't the least bit concerned that they'd fallen out of touch.
Anne had forgotten how comforting it was to be in the presence of her best friend.
Emma took a seat and ordered an old-fashioned.
The two young women took their time retelling events from ages ago to re-solidify their connection.
I completely forgot that I wanted to call the song Shark Lips, Anne shook her head,
embarrassed.
I don't think I could forget a title like that if I tried.
Emma laughed, fishing the cherry from her drink with her fingers.
Emma, have you ever felt like you can't remember the last time you were happy?
Anne pulled the words from seemingly nowhere and tossed them casually over the table.
Emma popped the cherry in her mouth and chewed it along with Anne's question.
Maybe.
What exactly do you mean?
I'm being over-dramatic.
Anne tried to shoo away the heaviness of her statement.
I just want to enjoy catching up with you, but I'm a bit distracted.
Sorry.
What's wrong?
Emma drum-tied her fingers on the high top.
You remember Mike Fripp, don't you?
Emma smiled wolfishly.
Of course.
Who do you think connected those dots for you?
Well, he graduated college last year and we've stayed together this whole time.
Emma pretended to swoon, a hand at her heart and everything.
The myth of the high school sweethearts.
So it really does work out sometimes.
And to think that it used to call you dumbtruck.
Yeah, I guess.
Anne continued.
My family just adores Mike.
We've been together for what feels like forever now.
He's great, really, but...
I'm a terrible person, because in spite of everything, I just don't feel happy.
Emma said nothing and gave her friend the space to collect and share her thoughts.
I know that I should feel a certain way, but that feeling just isn't there.
I've tried talking to my family about it, but my mother keeps telling me that feeling
a little uncertain is just a part of life, not worth throwing away a perfectly good relationship,
and where on earth would you ever find a man as good as Mike Fripp?
I know she's probably right, but she's searched for words to explain her desperation, but
her hesitation said it all.
Emma sipped at the remnants of her drink, and I get the feeling that sometime soon, Mike
is going to propose to me.
Emma, I'm terrified of that, Anne put her face in her hands.
You're terrified of your high school sweetheart?
Emma challenged.
Terrified that'll say yes.
I don't think I have the stubbornness to resist, especially when my only reason is
that I have this vague feeling of unhappiness.
I wish I didn't have to make this decision.
Emma smiled.
Well, of course.
You deserve to be happy, Anne.
Just say the words.
What about the cost?
Anne skipped any pretense of not remembering her best friend's power.
As she asked the question, Anne became suddenly more aware of the dark circles around her
vision.
She had long since adjusted to her imperfect depth perception, and hardly even noticed
the circles anymore.
She noticed them now.
Solitude, Emma said, holding out her hands.
What?
Anne fidgeted with her empty glass.
So that you don't have to make this decision, which is clearly tormenting you so much, all
you have to give up in return is your solitude.
Any amount of time you may have spent by your lonesome, you will no longer have to bear,
Emma offered.
Her hands still outstretched.
Anne paused to consider it.
There really seemed to be no downside.
The ominous, weighty decision whisked away from her, and the only cost was solitude.
I still don't understand how you take away such mundane things and give me so much comfort
in return.
Anne felt wholly unworthy.
What about you, Emma?
The things you need and want?
Do you ever get anything from granting these wishes?
Like I told you a long time ago, Emma smiled, flexing a freckled arm.
I mostly just like playing sharks and fishies with my best friend, and sometimes I hang
on to a momento or two that she's traded away.
If those things happen to suit me, Emma.
Anne's eyes were closed as she grasped Emma's hands.
The familiar coldness of them made her feel safe.
Emma, please take my solitude and make my wish come true.
Small tears escaped from the corners of the young woman's eyes as she whispered the final
words.
Thank you.
The dizziness was immediate.
Anne felt a tremendous pull as though her chair had suddenly transported to the top
of a stairwell and had vanished, leaving Anne in the predictable arms of gravity.
For several moments, Anne did not want to open her eyes.
The reverse of waking up from a nightmare and trying to keep your eyes open to avoid
the churning depths of imagination awaiting your return.
Slowly and cautiously, Anne opened her eyes.
Her world felt vast, empty, and incredibly dark.
It was as though the circle's inner vision had been the very edges of two windows.
Only now, Anne had stepped back far enough and could finally grasp the endless depths
of the cell which contained her.
Her eyes now simply offered a glimpse of something which felt impossibly far beyond Anne's reach,
like staring at the Earth from the surface of the moon.
The effect was so overwhelming that it took Anne a very long time to regard the shadowy
mass of angles and tendrils seated next to her.
Emma, what's happening? Anne tried to say aloud.
But to her shock, she heard herself happily chirp out the words,
Oh Emma, what would I ever do without you?
Bright wild eyes blinked over a broad toothy smile within the shadowy mass.
Back at you bestie, the shadow chuckled. This all really has been fun.
Anne tried to scream to wave her hands to take any sort of action, but it was as though
she were sleep paralyzed, just conscious enough for fear, but unable to act.
Oh, said the smoldering collection of shadows and sharpness, turning its attention as the
door to the restaurant opened and a young man entered.
I don't want to be a third wheel. Good luck, Anne.
Thank you, Emma. Anne recoiled inwardly as she heard herself speak the words.
Anne watched in horror as the shadows organized themselves into a shape of Emma and paused
near the door to have a quick chat with Mike Frick.
Anne tried to stand to move even a single foot as she watched Emma give Mike a playful
shove before she slipped out the door. Mike spotted Anne and walked slowly towards
the table. His face was already pink and there was an obvious nervousness to his smile as
he weaved at her.
No, Anne thought desperately, unable to move.
No, please, go away. I don't want this. I don't want this.
Anne, Mike said tenderly as he suddenly knelt down.
I have to say no. I must say no. Why can't I move?
Anne screamed the words silently in depths of her own mind, but in spite of never actually
hearing his question, Anne watched herself touch Mike Frick gently on the cheek, heard
herself agree to his proposal, and felt herself stand from the table so that he could sweep
her into a dramatic embrace to the thunderous applause of the restaurant.
As she suffered with no agency with which to express it, Anne caught a glimpse of a
face in the window outside the restaurant. It was the face of a sweet little girl with
bright yellow smooth and silky hair.
In spite of the rain, now pouring down an endless sheets, the little girl smiled at
Anne through the window.
She then turned away from Anne's gaze and trotted away into the downpour to find a new
game of sharks and fishies.
That was a very strange story. Would you agree?
Oh, don't mind the noises there.
This tower is exceedingly old, and apparently no amount of magic stops it from making some
very odd sounds as it settles.
It still feels a bit chilly in here, but nevertheless, I hope you enjoyed today's story, and I am,
as always, thankful for the company.
Now, I think what I'll do is I'll go and see if I can spread butter on this book, but
in the meantime, if there is a type of story that you would like to hear, please do let
me know, and I will do my best to find one to meet your request.
Be well, and carry today's story in your heart.
Today's tale has ended, but return once again to this place where you are considered a friend.
Return to this tower in its mysterious dweller for more from the Librarium, The Second Storyteller.
Thank you for listening to The Second Storyteller.
If you have a prompt for a story, please send it to thesecondstoryteller at gmail.com.
If your prompt is selected, your name will be credited at the end of the episode.
Today's prompt was, Childhood Friendships That Change You, submitted by Penny Dreadful.
If you would like to help support the future of this podcast, please consider becoming
a patron by going to patreon.com.
A donation as small as a dollar is greatly appreciated and helps keep us going.
A donation of just $10 a month puts you on the list of current library card holders,
and your name will be read at the end of the episode.
The Second Storyteller podcast and the featured stories were written and created by Katie Chacon.
The role of the Second Storyteller is played by Charles Scott.
Today's voice of the story was provided by Chris Camp.
The voice of the intro and outro is Chris Camp, and you can find the fantastic games he's
worked on at rix.itch.io.
That's r-i-k-s.itch.io.
The music was written by Fintan, who can be found at garbagebag, all one word,.itch.io.
The Second Storyteller will return next month with more magic, fun, and of course, a story
to tell.