Diary Of 1000-Personas

The Wishing Tower

My mother used to tell me the legend of a grand tower to put me to bed. It was her favorite legend, she'd say.

A legend most believed in as much as they did the gods. She loved the idea.

The legend of a Grand Tower, reaching a height of several thousand meters. Too tall for any mortal to dream of seeing the top.

But we could wish. We could wish every night, and our wishes would travel up concrete bricks, ancient moss, and strange magic hiding the tower in plain sight.

Our wishes would settle at the top one day and be granted when they do.

Some say a wish travels 1 meter every 1 year; that most would be dead before their wishes came true. While other versions say the tower holds wishes, not grant them.

Keeping the innocent wishes from the sinister, waiting for the day a person enters their grave to reflect on all the wishes ever made and decide their fate.

My mother would read me any version we could afford. The older books came from libraries or newly archived ruins, tossed in the trash or worse.

She was always excited to read to me. So much so, that there were times we stayed up until sunrise instead of sleeping, as we should've.

I don't know why I can remember those years so fondly.

There was a time where my past seemed further away than the future; a different person, a young girl, someone innocent I wouldn't dare touch existed than.

Now, there's me.

I believe in legends and my home is a neverending, grandiose tower. I know what the people wish, though I wish I didn't.

People are vile with black hearts. I don't need to hear their secrets every night I sleep. Children's wishes are full of terror, more every year begging to not be taken away. Praying they'll come back home.

I wish I could tell them they will. I can't; I didn't.

No, instead of home, I entered the world of Prophecies.

A prophecy developed my path, guiding me by an invisible thread. Threatening me with the large hands of a monster—a man.

Now I'm trapped here. Waiting. Wishing. Listening.

A damsel who needs saving, soon, my savior will come. Soon, he will take my life and cage me in my soul. Soon, I will not suffer knowing I have condemned my world to a war like no other.

I do not want to fix things anymore; I'm tired of wanting and failing to help.

The prophecy knows how it will all end. I simply wish, when it does, that peace will take me back in time. Before I was taken in mind, body, and spirit. Back to nothingness.