9A/N: So... Another oneshot. While my multi-chaptered stories never got a whole lot of attention, the oneshot I posted did much better than I had anticipated. I wrote this a couple weeks ago, and now that I finally managed to fix the issue FP was giving me when I tried to edit any documents, I figured I may as well post it.
Wind. Trees. Leaves on the sidewalk. Hair in my face. Someone's hat swirling by, looking as though it's aiming for the top of a tall tree somewhere. The strong smell of cow manure, thankfully growing fainter once I've passed the farm it's emanating from.
Spring. Most of the time I love the sudden warmth that the first week can bring, and revel in the ability to walk outside without a coat on and actually be comfortable. Other times, I find myself thoroughly annoyed by the wind and the mud and the smell of manure that permeates the air.
"I wish I had a hair tie," I mutter, as the wind releases a few strands of my hair from where I had tucked them behind my ears. It isn't the first time this has happened to me during my trek toward home.
A moment later, I run into something solid and sturdy. I look up to see a guy who appears to be a little older than I am standing in front of me, an amused smirk on his face.
Where did he come from? I wonder, my brow furrowing. I hadn't exactly been watching where I was going, my head bowed against the wind as it had been, but I still feel like I should have noticed him before I ran into him.
He holds out his hand. I'm confused for a moment, because he seems to be holding something, and he seems to want me to take it. I examine it for a moment and realize that it's a hair tie.
"Your wish is my command," he says.
My confusion only grows, and added to it is now a strong feeling of unease. This is weird.
He sighs. "Are you going to take it or not?"
I shake my head and back up a couple paces. "I don't think so."
Before I can blink, he's behind me. I feel a slight pulling against my scalp, and then he's in front of me again.
"You're welcome," he says, rolling his eyes. Then he's gone.
I reach behind me and touch the back of my head. Sure enough, my hair has been pulled into a messy, rather snarly ponytail. Still in a state of shock, I look around dazedly to see where he could have gone. Part of me knows that's not going to do any good, though; he didn't run off, he vanished. I'm not going to find him.
Suddenly, I snap out of my daze. "What the hell was that?" I exclaim to the empty road around me.
I hear a moo from the barn a few hundred feet behind me.
I get no other response.
I storm into my house, closing the door sharply behind me.
"Something really weird just happened to me," I announce.
My younger sister looks up from where she's sitting on the couch, reading a rather enormous book. "What else is new?"
I scowl at her. "No, I'm serious, Lizzie. This was bizarre."
She sighs and sets her book in her lap with her thumb as a placeholder. "Let's have it, then."
"Well, I was walking home from Abby's, and the wind was really strong and my hair wouldn't stay out of my face, so I said, 'I wish I had a hair tie'." I paused for breath. "Then, out of nowhere, I ran into this guy who just happened to be holding a hair tie. He held it out to me and said, 'My wish is your command,' and then he vanished."
She just stares at me for a moment, looking a lot less shocked than I had expected her to. Then she rolls her eyes and opens her book back up. "Don't start a blog, Em. No one will read it."
I look at her incredulously. "You don't believe me?"
"Of course not," she says dismissively. "Were you expecting me to?"
I suppose it is a little far-fetched, but it really did happen. How can I convince her? An idea pops into my mind, and I cross my fingers.
"I wish I had a donut!" I declare.
Liz doesn't look up from her book, but I see her roll her eyes again.
I wait for a moment, thinking that if nothing happens, I'm going to be mocked for years. Please, please, please, please, please…
And there he is, donut in hand.
Liz shrieks and stands up, dropping her book. It lands on her foot and she yells in pain, which I really can't blame her for.
"Your wish is my command," says the mysterious guy, handing me the donut.
"See?" I say to Liz. "I wasn't lying."
"Sorry," she whispers meekly, her eyes glued to the stranger.
I turn to him, ready to get some answers. "What's your name?"
"Well, my last Wisher called me 'Dude'," he replies. "I didn't really like it, but what can you do? I was pretty happy when I got reassigned, anyway."
None of that makes any sense to me. I just look at him blankly.
He scratches the back of his neck. "Okay, well… What's your name?"
"Emily," I say. "What do you mean, your last Wisher? What's a Wisher?"
"Isn't it obvious?" he asks, sounding honestly curious.
I shake my head.
"Oh." He frowns. "How can I…? Hmmm… Well… Alright, look at it this way… Humans always want things that they can't have. Trivial things, things that don't really matter, but things that would improve their moods if they suddenly could have them. Like hair ties."
"So… I'm a Wisher?"
He claps his hands together and grins. "Got it in one. Of course, it wasn't all that complicated, but you have to celebrate the little things in life. I wouldn't be here if that wasn't true."
I squeeze one eye closed and stare intently at the ceiling for a moment.
"Um… What are you doing?" Mysterious Stranger asks. When I don't answer, he turns to Liz. "What's wrong with her?"
"Nothing," Liz tells him, the chance to answer a question about my oddness seeming to pull her out of her shocked daze. "That's her thinking face. She rubs her jaw when she's thinking really hard, so I guess she's just pondering right now."
"If there's one thing I know," he replies bemusedly, "it's that I will never understand humans. So many quirks and habits that don't make sense. I love it."
"Okay," I say, dropping my thinking face and ignoring the conversation that had taken place while I had been wearing it, "so I'm a Wisher. Why? Was I destined for it, or did someone just pick me randomly, or what? Also, if I'm a Wisher, then what are you? A… a Wishee?"
"You were picked, yes, but not randomly. And you're both the Wisher and the Wishee, technically. I guess I could be called a Wishist or some such, but that sounds rather silly, don't you think? I prefer the term 'Wish Enabler'." He smiles and leans against the wall. "Emily is a lovely name, by the way."
I shrug. "I wish it—"
"Stop," he says quickly. "Seriously, be careful what you wish for."
Oh. I hadn't thought about that. "So… I can't ever say that I wish for something ever again?"
"I would appreciate it if you didn't put me entirely out of a job," he replies. "Just think about things first. Besides, I can't grant every wish. I actually can't grant very many at all, if you think about it, but it can't hurt to be careful."
"Alright, Dude," I say.
His look of despair is comical. "No! Don't do that to me!"
I tilt my head to the side slightly. "Didn't you say that was your name? I mean, I thought it was a bit weird, but…"
"I didn't say that was my name! That's just what my last Wisher called me!"
"Oh," I say. "So… I get to call you whatever I want, then?"
"Essentially."
I tap my chin thoughtfully. "In that case, I think I'll call you—"
I don't get a chance to finish my thought. He vanishes suddenly, leaving me midsentence and very confused.
"Where'd he go?" Liz asks, bending down to retrieve her dropped book without taking her eyes off of the spot where he had disappeared.
"I don't know," I reply, frowning. "That was kinda rude."
"Oh, well." She gives the section of wall one last, long look before settling herself back down on the couch and reopening her book. "Maybe it's a genie thing."
He is a little like a genie, isn't he? Am I limited to three wishes, then? It seems like that would have been something that he would have mentioned right off, but maybe not. I quickly decide to save what could possibly be my last wish for something a little more important than a hair tie or a donut.
"God damn it!" I exclaim explosively as the shovel goes flying out of my hand the next afternoon. "I wish that stupid handle would just stay put already!"
The handle immediately flies out of my hands and reattaches itself to the shovel that had just parted from it, and a now-familiar voice behind me says, "Your wish is my command."
I spin around to face him. "Hello again, Mister Genie. Do you always have to say that?"
"Wish Enabler," he says. "Genie is an incredibly outdated term. And yes, I do always have to say that. It's in my contract."
"That's dumb," I say bluntly. "What was with yesterday, anyway? I was in the middle of saying something and then you just left."
He walks over to pick up the shovel. "Sorry. That happens. I have a limited amount of time with the Wisher."
"Why?"
He shrugs. "That's just how it is. Each wish allows for approximately three minutes of conversation."
I suddenly remember my worry from the evening before. "I didn't just use up my last wish, did I?" I ask anxiously.
He shakes his head, looking slightly amused. "Mainstream media, forever getting everything wrong." Then he pauses, and asks, "If you thought that was your last wish, why did you wish for me to fix your shovel?"
"I didn't mean to," I reply. "It just slipped out."
"Oh really," he says wryly. "I don't think I believe that."
I frown. "Why not?"
"No one gets frustrated and says, 'I wish this would stop falling apart'," he explains. "They say, 'Why won't this thing stop falling apart,' or, 'God damn it!' I think you just wanted to see me again."
"I did say 'god damn it'," I remind him. Then the rest of his statement sinks in. "Don't be stupid," I say hotly, stalking over and snatching the shovel back from him. "Why on Earth would I trade in a wish for another ridiculous conversation with a guy whose name I don't even know?"
"That's your fault," he tells me simply, apparently unperturbed by the way I had reclaimed the shovel. "I told you that my name was your choice."
"Yeah, and then you disappeared."
"Like I said, that wasn't my fault." He looks me over appraisingly. "Why would you trade a wish for another chance to see me?"
The answer that springs into my mind is of course the first thing that anyone would think when asked such a question, and it in no way reveals my actual answer. Unfortunately, I think he sees it on my face, because he grins smugly. My response to that is to groan and turn back to the hole I was digging.
"Well, that's interesting," he says, and I can still hear the grin in his voice even though I refuse to look at him. "I mean, I've had Wishers who fancied me before. I am incredibly handsome. Still, it's always fun to—"
"I don't fancy you!" I yell, dropping the shovel in irritation and whirling around. "And I didn't wish for a fixed shovel to get you to come back!"
Damn. That all came out at a much higher volume than I had intended it to. This was proven by Liz sticking her head out of her bedroom window.
"Is that the genie again?" she asks, somewhat rhetorically considering that he's perfectly visible to her. "You don't seriously fancy him, do you, Em? I mean, talk about a difficult romance."
"No!" I shriek. I have issues when it comes to learning from my mistakes. "I don't freaking fancy him! And who says 'fancy' like that anyway?"
"I do," he says, his tone much calmer than my own. "It's a good word. Much better than 'crush' or 'like', which are both very difficult to use in any situation that doesn't contain preteen girls."
"I wasn't asking you!" I say, only to find myself talking to thin air by the end of my sentence. "God damn it! I wish I wasn't so annoyed right now!"
I wish for the first thing that pops into my head, just wanting the chance to continue yelling at him for his insinuations. A second later, he pops back into sight.
"Your wish is my command," he says, and I feel the strangest sense of calm wash over me. It's almost a… giddiness.
I giggle. "Thanks. I feel good. Really good. Like, totally good."
"I know you do."
I look him over, suddenly noticing that he is incredibly attractive. Lean and fit, with a mess of dark hair that just barely falls into his eyes. And that smug grin that I found really, really annoying moments ago is now quite sexy.
I quickly push him back against the nearest tree and pull his head down so I can assault his mouth with my own.
"God, Em," I vaguely hear Liz say, "way to be bipolar."
I'm too busy making out with my genie to reply to her. He's flipped me around so that he can brace himself against the tree with one hand, and his other hand has made its way down to rest on my hip.
Mmm…
Much too soon, he pulls away. I frown and try to pull him back, but he shakes his head. Then he puts his hands on my shoulders, guides me back over to stand by the hole, and touches two fingers to my forehead.
Suddenly, the world isn't quite so pink and yellow anymore.
"What the hell was that?" I ask, stunned.
"Your wish," he replies seriously, but I can see the humor dancing in his eyes.
I take that in. "You can manipulate my emotions?"
"Well… yes," he says, "but only if you wish for it."
"I didn't wish to be horny!" I exclaim.
He's trying to hide a smile, I can tell. He's not really doing a very good job of it. "Your wish wasn't particularly specific. I had to do a bit of interpreting."
"A bit of interpreting?" I shriek. "You ass!"
"Hey, you started it," he says, holding up his hands in the universal 'don't shoot' gesture.
"What do you mean, I started it?" I ask. "How the hell did I start that?"
He shrugs. "You blushed when I asked you why you wished about the shovel. I was just going with the theme."
I can't even get any words out through my indignation. I wave my arms around a little, but that doesn't help me speak.
"It was a joke," he says. "Calm down."
My indignation becomes outraged spluttering, and my arm movements get slightly crazier. I do not appreciate being told to calm down when I feel that I have every right to be, well… mad. In both senses of the word.
With what I consider superhuman reflexes but other people might just call being quick, he grabs both of my wrists and stops my wild flailing. Then he steps forward and kisses me. It's much gentler than the previous one, and I calm down without really intending to.
"Sorry," he whispers as he pulls away. "I won't do it again, I promise."
And then he's gone. Again.
I just stand there for a moment, bewildered.
"I would say, 'ooh la la'," Liz calls down to me, "but that's not really something I ever want to be known to have said. Are you going to wish for anything else?"
"Definitely not," I reply as I pick my shovel back up and attack the dirt, my cheeks burning. Considering the noise that she makes in return, I'm certain Liz doesn't believe me.
That's okay, really, because I don't believe me either.
A/N: Yes, this is just a oneshot. I know it's kind of open-ended, but even if I do write more, which I probably won't, I won't be posting it on FP. I've decided that I prefer to keep my longer original stories to myself. Besides, I happen to really like open-ended oneshots.
Any guesses as to what else I might really like? It should be pretty easy. That's right, I really like reviews. Nothing really compares to that little thrill that I get when I see a review for one of my stories sitting in my inbox. So go ahead and thrill me, folks!
...'Cause that doesn't sound weird at all.