Snippets of Time

8. The Wish of Freedom

"No," I state with an air of finality in my words. "It's my wish. I'm not telling."

I stare at the one, lone candle protruding from my tiny cupcake. A wisp of smoke snakes into the air before vanishing into oblivion. I remove the extinguished candle and return it to its drawer, where it will remain until Lola's birthday.

"Tell me, Azzi," Lola groans, tugging at my arm. "Why won't you tell? Is it something embarrassing?"

"No." I avoid her gaze and glance over her shoulder instead—Mum is dozing on the sofa, snoring loudly with an empty, glass bottle latched tightly in her hand. Her chest heaves with ragged breaths.

I should've kept looking at Lola.

"Azzi, I swear, just say it already!" Lola hisses. "Or I'm telling Mum and Dad."

"You always tell Mum and Dad everything." I snap, snatching my arm out of her grip. "You can't keep your stupid gob shut for two minutes."

"I so can!" She glares at me, crossing her arms over her chest. "Anyways, whatever it is, it won't come true. Wishes aren't real."

"Will you two shut up?!" Dad suddenly yells from the neighbouring room, causing both Lola and I to flinch. The TV's volume turns up several decibels. "What does a man have to do around here to get some bloody peace and quiet?!"

A few moments later, I let out a breath, lowering my voice before turning back to Lola. "Wishes are real. You just don't believe in magic." The blood-red, strawberry flavoured icing begins to dribble onto my hand, making it sticky and uncomfortable.

"Well duh, that's because magic doesn't exist," Lola scoffs, her eyes rolling so far back into her sockets that I hope they get stuck there.

Seething rage threatens to spill out of me but I contain it and push it back in. There's no point getting mad at Lola for not believing in magic. I know magic exists. All that matters is that I believe in it. And that I made the wish. The wish will fix everything.

The wish will set me free.

Without warning, Lola instantly tears my cupcake out of my hand and shoves it into her mouth in one go, swallowing it whole. A smudge of red icing is stuck to the side of her smirking face. 

"I—" I manage to choke out before my throat closes up on me. Lola's grin only widens when she notices the salty pool accumulating in my eyes.

"That's what you get," she retorts. "You should've just told me when I asked."

"Mum!" I cry out. "Lola stole my c—"

"I SAID SHUT UP!" Dad's booming voice echoes through my bones as my heart lodges in my throat. Lola and I freeze, exchanging a look of pure horror at the shuffling noises emanating from the living room.

Dad is coming.

His giant figure steps through the doorway, a metal rod brandished in his beefy arm. Blazing flames erupt in his eyes as he focusses his death stare on me. I struggle to breathe. My legs shake uncontrollably.

"How many times do I have to tell you to shut up, Azrael?" He isn't yelling anymore. He's deathly quiet, his eerie whisper snaking into my soul. "I'm sick of you. I'm sick of the both of you. I should've done this a long time ago."

He advances towards me at a pace I'm not expecting, the rod aimed straight for my head. I have no time to move. I manage one final whimper before squeezing my eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable death blow.

But it doesn't come.

Then, Lola begins to scream.

My eyes fly open. Dad is lying spread-eagled on the ground, the ugly rod protruding from his back. Thick, crimson blood begins to spill out of the wound, staining the carpet black.

"H-h-he tripped," Lola stammers, her bloodshot eyes wide with shock. "He tripped over the table and... and..."

Lola races over to where Mum is sleeping silently on the sofa, the glass bottle still clutched to her chest.

Her chest which is no longer moving.

"Mum! Wake up!" Lola shakes Mum's shoulders but Mum remains trapped in her eternal slumber, oblivious to Lola's desperate pleading. Lola's head shoots round to face me, a gush of water cascading down her cheeks as she continues to sob hopelessly. "Azzi, help me. Help me wake her up. Please!"

I walk over to where Lola is crouched beside the sofa and pull the blanket off of Mum. Lola gasps as we notice at least ten identical glass bottles scattered around her, her clothes soaked in the foul-smelling alcohol.

"She's dead, Lola."

Lola turns to me, her face weighed down with a thousand emotions. "She's not." Her voice is a mere whisper, but I hear it clearly in the peaceful silence of our house. "S-she can't be."

I match my voice to hers, mirroring her whisper as I reply, "I thought you didn't believe in magic."

"What?" Lola is frozen, her eyes unmoving from my face. My smirking face.

"I said, I thought you didn't believe in magic. And that wishes don't come true."

"You wished for this?" Her voice is broken, dying. "You wished for Mum and Dad to die?"

"No."

"Then what?" Lola suddenly jumps up, her voice laced in wild fury. "What the bloody hell did you wish for, Azzi?!"

Suddenly, Lola spasms violently and begins to cough, as thick, white foam comes tumbling out from her lips. She sags to the ground, desperately tearing at her throat but to no avail. Within moments, she is completely still.

I wipe the last of the red icing off my fingers and smile to myself. It's too late for Lola to hear my answer. But perhaps her spirit will hear it from the afterlife. So I clear my throat and speak to a barren house, a house full of dead souls.

"I wished to be free."

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Winner of the WattpadShortStory 12 Days of Writing Contest.

Prompt - 'wish'

Featured in the Gemstones Anthology by WattpadShortStory

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Written in Dec 2020