Count Stars With Me?
The Wishing Well
The wishing well stood, impassive and silent, thoughtful and yet utterly thoughtless at the same time. Its stone structure curved round in a lazy circle, protectively guarding the watery pit far below. The bucket hung listlessly from a sodden and frayed rope, creaking so and then as the wind gently rocked it in a lullaby. Ivy caressed the well's stone body lovingly, and a riot of coloured blossom carpeted the ground around it. The essence of Spring itself was captured in this small space, the laws of renewal and fresh beginnings, snapping and teasing the cold bite of Winter in the air. The well emanated age and power, the snows melted from its feet and a riot of flowers growing prematurely around it, the only colour to be seen for miles. Magic sparkled like fallen stars in the air around it, potential and tense, waiting for an outlet. Every movement sent a sharp crack through the air as unseen particles clustered and danced.
A young, blonde-haired girl stared at it, head tilted to one side. Her blue eyes were wide and curious, wondering how it was that she had passed through this meadow countless times and never happened across the well. Her name was Layla, a small, fragile looking thing with far too much pain behind her eyes for her teenage years. Layla suffered from depression and was frequently haunted by shadows only she could see. Her vivid, blue Spring dress licked the back of her legs, under which small, deep cuts were visible when the wind brushed the fabric aside. She was gazing at the well intensely, and in some strange way that she couldn't quite define, she could swear that the well was gazing straight back.
Layla's fist opened, and something round and metallic glinted in the magic encrusted air. She looked at it sorrowfully for a moment-- it was the very last item of money which she owned, a proud looking ten pence piece. She extended a hand over the well's gaping mouth and hesitated, eyes squeezing tightly shut and lips moving in a whispered wish, which echoed down the walls of the well until it drowned in the pool of water nestled deep in the fathomless ground below;
Make the shadows go away.
Tilting her wrist slowly, the penny slipped from her pale, soft palm and careered from view. Layla watched it go, listening intently for the splash, which came after a lengthy silence of falling. A single tear slipped from her flawless cheek and splashed onto the grey stone-work that was the lip of the well, before she turned and slowly walked away, head bowed and eyes downcast so as to avoid the gaze of the shadows which danced menacingly around her.
A small wisp of magic detached itself from the riot of particles surrounding the well and drifted with direct purpose towards the departing girl. Shadows raised their heads to watch it pass and, whip-like tail tucked between skeletal legs in terror, they screamed and fled. This magic was composed of nothing but purity and light, and a single touch would send the shadow scuttling to the darkest corners of Layla's mind in which they had been first created. The magic curled around Layla's neck, stroking her cheek in a comforting manner. But she was too busy concentrating on not looking up that she failed to realise that there were no shadows to frighten her any more. The magic tried desperately to raise her head and make her look around, but some habits were simply too solid to break, and it was forced to fade hopelessly into nothingness and watch as Layla's shadows crept slowly back. They hadn't run far.
Hours later, when the sun hung defiantly in the silk blue sky, the well shivered inwardly with anticipation as another figure approached, sending ripples through its pool of water and exciting the drifting magic. A larger, older form stood before the magical well now, dark hair falling across strong and thoughtful eyes. Lucas was a handsome young man with an air of confidence and certainty around him-- most of the time. He often lapsed into hideous tempers which sent a red mist to cloud his eyes, and tickled his fist into crashing against the faces of the people he most loved. And when the red mist retreated once more to the back of his eyes, he would see the bruises and the blood and have no recollection of ever putting them there. Just as he had no recollection of this well ever standing here. Lucas forgot things, and he had become afraid of loving the people he hurt.
He delved into his pocket and fished out a grubby two pence piece, rubbing it with a forefinger and a thumb for a moment, his glare challenging and angry. The well glared back at him, daring him to throw the money. Lucas did so, flicking it deftly into the air and watching it spin out of sight. By the time the coin slipped into the well's water, the wish was made;
Make me remember things.
He turned and strode away, unaware that the air he dragged into his lungs was polluted with miniscule shreds of glitter and the unknown. Memories flooded into his head, flashing across his eyes, a swift slideshow of images his mind had held hostage for years and years. He froze and swiped the back of his hand across his face, annoyed at the sudden buzz of energy which had come to life in his head. His brain had woken his memories up, but there was a very powerful part of him which didn't want him to see them again. The battle ensued fiercely and was over in the time it took Lucas to blink. The magic faded in his head along with his lost memories, and they died in a hidden crevasse of his soul which he would never gain access to.
Time passed because, frankly, that was its job. The blue skies bled and were shot with red by the time one last figure came to stand amidst the power of the well. She looked about herself as though she could see something flitting before her eyes, before she frowned in slight confusion at the well. The well seemed to smile reassuringly back at her, open and welcoming. Plucking gently at the hood of her jumper, pulled up to cover the baldness of her head, Lucy knelt down and inhaled the sweet perfume of the surrounding blossom. Her delicate fingers closed around the stem of a snowdrop, and she considered plucking it and taking it home. She finally figured that such a thing of beauty did not deserve to have life snatched away for the sake of decoration and she straightened up and leaned over to stare down into the depths of the well.
She could not see the water, just blackness, though even the darkness seemed to have a warmth to it. In moments, Lucy had produced a pound from the pocket of her hooded jumper and she held it over the well for a moment, smiling childishly. Lucy was in her mid teens, though it didn't seem likely she would ever progress beyond this age. For Lucy had cancer, and her life was slipping away like grains of sand tumbling through an hour glass. Sharp twinges of fear were gripping her stomach, and tiredness was beginning to etch more and more strongly at her eyelids as her days flickered by. She muttered something under her breath, and her money was swallowed up by the hunger of the wishing well;
Make me unafraid of dying.
Patting the side of the well fondly, shooting one last look at the flowers she had never seen growing here before, Lucy turned her back and skipped away, singing softly to herself. She felt something warm tickling the backs of her hands, but thought nothing of it, oblivious to the roaming fingers of magic which were seeking out her deepest fears in search of her fear of death. The magic found nothing, for it was never death which Lucy was afraid of. It was merely the fear of saying goodbye to the people she loved, and so even the power of that tongue of pure magic could not abolish the uncomfortable rushes that gripped Lucy sometimes.
Night fell on the wishing well in the meadow and the flowers closed their heads until the Spring sun tickled them into wakefulness come morning. The liquid silver cascading from the stars above highlighted the gleam and shimmer of magic in the air, and if anyone had been there to see it they would have noticed that the occasional cracks and flashes of raw potential energy were becoming fewer and weaker. The magic spread out and was gradually lost to the atmosphere, soaked up by the power of distant suns and galaxies. Come morning, when each of the well's visitors passed by this place once more, they found nothing but a small ring of flowers and fallen blossom, butterflies alighted on their perfect petals. The well had gone, and so had any memory that it was ever there. The ring of colour soon spread, attacking and triumphing over the remaining dregs of snow left from Winter.
The needs of the wishers had never been met, not even by the power and the magic of Spring and its wishing well, because people could not be helped if there was some part of them which couldn't help themselves. Layla had brought her shadows into being and fed them with her fear and hate. Only she could conquer and slaughter the creations of her own insanity. Lucas forgot things because he never wanted to recall the harming of loved ones. He did not really want to remember, because his guilt had made him forget for his own sake. Lucy did not fear death, and she needed to come to terms with her own discomforts and recognise what her real demons were before she could rise up and fight them.
The well was sent by the essence of Spring to help each visitor recognise what they really wanted, because you cannot make new changes until you know exactly where to start. That Spring, each of the three began to have strange dreams about wells and coins and wishes, and by the time Summer rolled in, each knew exactly what it was that they needed to start fighting for.
A young, blonde-haired girl stared at it, head tilted to one side. Her blue eyes were wide and curious, wondering how it was that she had passed through this meadow countless times and never happened across the well. Her name was Layla, a small, fragile looking thing with far too much pain behind her eyes for her teenage years. Layla suffered from depression and was frequently haunted by shadows only she could see. Her vivid, blue Spring dress licked the back of her legs, under which small, deep cuts were visible when the wind brushed the fabric aside. She was gazing at the well intensely, and in some strange way that she couldn't quite define, she could swear that the well was gazing straight back.
Layla's fist opened, and something round and metallic glinted in the magic encrusted air. She looked at it sorrowfully for a moment-- it was the very last item of money which she owned, a proud looking ten pence piece. She extended a hand over the well's gaping mouth and hesitated, eyes squeezing tightly shut and lips moving in a whispered wish, which echoed down the walls of the well until it drowned in the pool of water nestled deep in the fathomless ground below;
Make the shadows go away.
Tilting her wrist slowly, the penny slipped from her pale, soft palm and careered from view. Layla watched it go, listening intently for the splash, which came after a lengthy silence of falling. A single tear slipped from her flawless cheek and splashed onto the grey stone-work that was the lip of the well, before she turned and slowly walked away, head bowed and eyes downcast so as to avoid the gaze of the shadows which danced menacingly around her.
A small wisp of magic detached itself from the riot of particles surrounding the well and drifted with direct purpose towards the departing girl. Shadows raised their heads to watch it pass and, whip-like tail tucked between skeletal legs in terror, they screamed and fled. This magic was composed of nothing but purity and light, and a single touch would send the shadow scuttling to the darkest corners of Layla's mind in which they had been first created. The magic curled around Layla's neck, stroking her cheek in a comforting manner. But she was too busy concentrating on not looking up that she failed to realise that there were no shadows to frighten her any more. The magic tried desperately to raise her head and make her look around, but some habits were simply too solid to break, and it was forced to fade hopelessly into nothingness and watch as Layla's shadows crept slowly back. They hadn't run far.
Hours later, when the sun hung defiantly in the silk blue sky, the well shivered inwardly with anticipation as another figure approached, sending ripples through its pool of water and exciting the drifting magic. A larger, older form stood before the magical well now, dark hair falling across strong and thoughtful eyes. Lucas was a handsome young man with an air of confidence and certainty around him-- most of the time. He often lapsed into hideous tempers which sent a red mist to cloud his eyes, and tickled his fist into crashing against the faces of the people he most loved. And when the red mist retreated once more to the back of his eyes, he would see the bruises and the blood and have no recollection of ever putting them there. Just as he had no recollection of this well ever standing here. Lucas forgot things, and he had become afraid of loving the people he hurt.
He delved into his pocket and fished out a grubby two pence piece, rubbing it with a forefinger and a thumb for a moment, his glare challenging and angry. The well glared back at him, daring him to throw the money. Lucas did so, flicking it deftly into the air and watching it spin out of sight. By the time the coin slipped into the well's water, the wish was made;
Make me remember things.
He turned and strode away, unaware that the air he dragged into his lungs was polluted with miniscule shreds of glitter and the unknown. Memories flooded into his head, flashing across his eyes, a swift slideshow of images his mind had held hostage for years and years. He froze and swiped the back of his hand across his face, annoyed at the sudden buzz of energy which had come to life in his head. His brain had woken his memories up, but there was a very powerful part of him which didn't want him to see them again. The battle ensued fiercely and was over in the time it took Lucas to blink. The magic faded in his head along with his lost memories, and they died in a hidden crevasse of his soul which he would never gain access to.
Time passed because, frankly, that was its job. The blue skies bled and were shot with red by the time one last figure came to stand amidst the power of the well. She looked about herself as though she could see something flitting before her eyes, before she frowned in slight confusion at the well. The well seemed to smile reassuringly back at her, open and welcoming. Plucking gently at the hood of her jumper, pulled up to cover the baldness of her head, Lucy knelt down and inhaled the sweet perfume of the surrounding blossom. Her delicate fingers closed around the stem of a snowdrop, and she considered plucking it and taking it home. She finally figured that such a thing of beauty did not deserve to have life snatched away for the sake of decoration and she straightened up and leaned over to stare down into the depths of the well.
She could not see the water, just blackness, though even the darkness seemed to have a warmth to it. In moments, Lucy had produced a pound from the pocket of her hooded jumper and she held it over the well for a moment, smiling childishly. Lucy was in her mid teens, though it didn't seem likely she would ever progress beyond this age. For Lucy had cancer, and her life was slipping away like grains of sand tumbling through an hour glass. Sharp twinges of fear were gripping her stomach, and tiredness was beginning to etch more and more strongly at her eyelids as her days flickered by. She muttered something under her breath, and her money was swallowed up by the hunger of the wishing well;
Make me unafraid of dying.
Patting the side of the well fondly, shooting one last look at the flowers she had never seen growing here before, Lucy turned her back and skipped away, singing softly to herself. She felt something warm tickling the backs of her hands, but thought nothing of it, oblivious to the roaming fingers of magic which were seeking out her deepest fears in search of her fear of death. The magic found nothing, for it was never death which Lucy was afraid of. It was merely the fear of saying goodbye to the people she loved, and so even the power of that tongue of pure magic could not abolish the uncomfortable rushes that gripped Lucy sometimes.
Night fell on the wishing well in the meadow and the flowers closed their heads until the Spring sun tickled them into wakefulness come morning. The liquid silver cascading from the stars above highlighted the gleam and shimmer of magic in the air, and if anyone had been there to see it they would have noticed that the occasional cracks and flashes of raw potential energy were becoming fewer and weaker. The magic spread out and was gradually lost to the atmosphere, soaked up by the power of distant suns and galaxies. Come morning, when each of the well's visitors passed by this place once more, they found nothing but a small ring of flowers and fallen blossom, butterflies alighted on their perfect petals. The well had gone, and so had any memory that it was ever there. The ring of colour soon spread, attacking and triumphing over the remaining dregs of snow left from Winter.
The needs of the wishers had never been met, not even by the power and the magic of Spring and its wishing well, because people could not be helped if there was some part of them which couldn't help themselves. Layla had brought her shadows into being and fed them with her fear and hate. Only she could conquer and slaughter the creations of her own insanity. Lucas forgot things because he never wanted to recall the harming of loved ones. He did not really want to remember, because his guilt had made him forget for his own sake. Lucy did not fear death, and she needed to come to terms with her own discomforts and recognise what her real demons were before she could rise up and fight them.
The well was sent by the essence of Spring to help each visitor recognise what they really wanted, because you cannot make new changes until you know exactly where to start. That Spring, each of the three began to have strange dreams about wells and coins and wishes, and by the time Summer rolled in, each knew exactly what it was that they needed to start fighting for.