Wishing Inc.

Chapter 1

The Wishing Inc. headquarters are less pleasant then one may think. The outside is nice enough, a big blue building with bright little stars adorning the outside. A constellation on the front spells out "Wishing Inc." and two giant, clear double doors guard the entrance. That's where the pleasantness stops.

Once you enter the doors, a thin lady with a grey bun and a black business suit peeks at you over the rim of her spectacles, glaring behind the protection of her desk. She hands you a tablet and you sign in,  and then you march through the boring, gray hallways until you reach where you are going. 

The whole compound has a tense and nervous sort of feeling, and everyone stares at you as you pass, acknowledging your presence with a terse nod and occasionally a look of pity. They all share similar appearances: dark hair, grey eyes, metallic spectacles, black or grey business suits, and porcelain, flawless skin. Here at Wishing Inc, we look like siblings or relatives. No one is sure why.

My name is Cancer Grey. It describes most of the people here. And I wish it was different, because it doesn't describe me. I don't work here yet, but like all of the Tenebrae, I will in time. 

I don't have parents. None of us do. We are born of rogue stars that somehow find their way to earth, and are carried up to Obscurus, our land, by what humans call angels. They are really Recorders, some of the only Tenebrae that are actually allowed to go down to the human world.

Recorders record the wishes of humans from the observation room, a massive hall with black, glossy walls, a swooping ceiling, and a navy blue carpet adorned with bright stars. One wall, the one overlooking the human realm, is completely made of clear glass. The Recorders, with their perfect and boosted vision, watch the human they've been assigned until that human makes a wish. The wishes are recorded on the tablets and delivered to the mission room.

The mission room looks like a factory. It's a giant warehouse with gleaming silver interior and thousands of black conveyor belts transporting large brown boxes full of tablets to sorting zones, where Sorting Tenebrae select a Star for each tablet. 

Stars are the only other Tenebrae allowed in the human realm, and they are also the only Tenebrae who are diverse. Their looks are as different as humans, and they are free to wear what they want, and speak how they want, unlike the rest of us. Their job is to make the wishes of the humans come true, by any means besides the death of another being. That is, if the humans are willing to pay the price. 

I want to be a Star. I don't want to grow up looking the same as everyone else, talking like everyone else, being exactly the same as everyone else in every way. I want to strive to be different. I want to walk the human realm. I want to live, not stay cooped up in the Wishing Inc. Headquarters, working in a constant, unchanging pattern. I wish for adventure.

If only our  wishes came true, too.