Twitter ficlets

Genie in a bottle

Mitch is a genie in a bottle and Scott discovers him.

Scott stares at the bottle, mesmerised by the crisp clear voice that seems to be emanating from it. Brushing away the sand clinging damply to the outside of the glass, he feels his fingers tingle with vibrations as it sings a hauntingly beautiful melody.

Awe is replaced by alarm when the bottle becomes suddenly and uncomfortably hot in his hands. He drops it reflexly and staggers back as a slender dark haired man appears in a cloud of purple smoke, head tilted back and eyes closed, the same melody now falling effortlessly from his lips.

"Holy fuck," Scott whispers.

The voice halts abruptly as the man closes his mouth and glances around. He rolls his eyes and sighs wearily.

"Congratulations," he says in a flat tone, "you have freed me from my eternal imprisonment and are hereby entitled to three wishes." He takes a deep breath, folds his arms, and continues with the same level of disinterest, "Wishes must not directly involve killing or any major physical or emotional trauma. Subversion of free will or consent is prohibited by the 1904 personage preservation act, and wishing for more wishes will get you precisely nowhere. Full terms can be found in the conditions of wish fulfilment manual," he snaps his fingers and a hefty volume appears mid-air, dropping to the ground with a thump, just in front Scott's feet.

Scott's eyes stay fixed on the man in front of him. "Oh my god, your voice is amazing."

"I'm sorry?"

"You. Your voice. I could hear you. In the bottle. You're incredible." Scott can feel his heart thump with excitement as words tumble out of his mouth without thought. "My best friend Kirstie and I want to try out for this TV show, but our tenor just took a job in Atlanta, of all places, and, um, wow, I really wish we could have you in our band." Scott halts, alarmed, "Oh, shit, does that count? I mean, is that allowed, would you even want to?"

The genie stoops to pick up the book, flips through the pages rapidly, pausing to scowl at one in particular, and then smacks it shut.

"You have two more wishes," he says, a smile quirking at his lips.

"Oh, um... well, we need a bass and a beatboxer too."

"Your wish," he says with a grin, "is my command."