Wishing Well part III

Anda’s form shook with distress. The walls of reality began to crumble around her; her deepest desires, her most heartfelt wishes, her very soul seemed to quake as the depths of life flooded around her. She struggled to breathe. She struggled to move. Anda’s spirit seemed to desire that the waters of the wishing well would swell up and swallow her.

Behind her, Anda heard a splashing sound. The boy who called himself the ‘Dream Reaper’ was wading towards her. “How could you do this to me,” she cried out. “You’ve stolen everything from me?”

The wading boy stopped an arms length from Anda. “Are these all your coins?” he asked patting his jangling pockets.

“No, they aren’t all mine. But mine are in the midst of them. Wishes from all sorts of people for all sorts of gifts.”

“How many of these are yours?” he asked.

Anda finally looked at him. As she did, he took a step back almost stumbling. The waves from his near fall rebounded against the angel and back to Anda. She studied his youthful face. His eyes were close set, his small nose was slightly upturned and overall, his face was smudged with dirt. His hair was dark, at least it appeared that way in only the moonlight.

“What does it matter to you? You’ve taken them all?” She sighed in resignation.

“What good does it do to throw money into the wishing well? Does the Angel even see? Does the Angel hear your voice? Does the Angel even care?” The boy stooped down to pick up one of Anda’s last coins. “This one. What was this dream?”

“That,” Anda said as she began to rise, “was my last hope.” She held out her hand to the boy who drew close and placed the quarter in her outstretched palm. “I asked the Angel for the deepest desire of my heart. And now I know, truly know, that the Angel is simply…”

“What?” the boy pressed her.

“…simply a sign that life isn’t fair.”

They were quiet for a moment. The two of them, the Dream Caster and the Dream Reaper, paused to find the right words to say.

“It was always just stone,” the boy said. “But there is something more, something much better than stone angels and coin casting.”

Anda looked around refusing to hope anymore. “What do you mean?” she asked.

“This place, here and now, is cold and wet and confusing. But there is a place that I can show you, not far from here where the world is warm, the people are content and they welcome new people. Look,” he pointed over the pine trees. “Do you see the glow on the horizon?”
Anda nodded.

“That is the light of the new day and with a new day comes new life. That is also where I’ve found a community of…”

“What?” Anda pressed him.

“A place of faith. Not in stone Angels or silvery coins or even wet feet and hands. Come with me. Follow me.” The boy seemed very certain as he stretched out his hand to her.

“I’ve got to get home. If I don’t, my dad will… reprimand me.”

“There’s no hurry,” the boy said. “Let me walk with you on your way. Then, in the near future, look for me at your door.”

Anda looked at the boy’s small, wet hand. Slowly she reached out and took it in her own. The two of them stepped out of the wishing well and began walking slowly up the path to Anda’s house hand in hand.

“What are you going to do with the coins from the Wishing Well?” Anda asked.

The boy smiled. “New dreams are sown, my new friend, from the scattered wishes of the past. You’ll see.”

They were quiet on their walk.

The Wishing Well wished them well on their journey. It’s soft trickling of water echoed for a few moments. The moon winked behind the clouds. The Angel must have turned her face.

A new day was coming.