The Wishing Well | ✔

• Five •

"What do you mean you're young again?" Peter was still unable to believe what his eyes had shown him.

"I'm eighty-five," replied the old—now young—woman. "My hair was white. I was full of wrinkles...where have my wrinkles gone? Ah, and my hands! They were so weak...and now—"

"Do you have any possible explanation to why this has just suddenly happened to you?" Peter interrupted with urgency.

"No..." The woman looked rather thoughtful. "I mean, I've always wanted to be young again. Ah, the idea of being able to break free from all of those cranky old lady moods and struggles!" She chuckled. "I always wanted to have my hair back to the way it was 50 years—"

"Madam."

"Oh, yes, yes. Right. That's another thing about old women—we get distracted easily! Well, well...I was saying, I always wanted to be young. Every time I encountered a dandelion I would make a wish before blowing it. That was always my wish. Every time the clock displayed—"

Something clicked in Peter's head.

"By any chance, did you ever throw a coin into a wishing well—particularly, that wishing well over there?" Audra's father pointed in the direction of the forlorn well, still unguarded since the newest incident.

"Why, of course," she said. "I've tossed coins into many wishing wells. Naturally, I've made a wish at this one here—I live in this town, for goodness sake!"

Peter swallowed. "Thanks, madam."

She laughed. "Anytime, sir, anytime." She proceeded to walk carefully and slowly down the street. At one point, she seemed to remember that she was, indeed, young again. Then she began to run at full speed.

Peter looked in her direction until she turned the corner. Oh, no, he screamed in his head. Oh no, oh no.

He knew the secret now. He knew very well what was going on. But if the guards figured out what the cause of all this was, and if they found his money...