Wish Fulfilment
Regular disclaimer applies. This was written more in hope than expectation – kind of like buying lottery tickets.
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"That's it," I cried, as the dam wall finally burst, releasing seven years of annoyance and frustration, things I had put aside and labelled 'my problem', but suddenly weren't anymore. "I've had it with your insecurity, your lack of trust, your patronising over-protectiveness. You treat me like a child who's incapable of working out for myself how to do things, and you're afraid of me undertaking anything in case it might lead me away from you. You're selfish, suffocatingly co-dependent, and you call this love! Every slightest thing you might do for me must be praised with great praise or you whine and sulk; everything I do you question both my motives and how I go about it. And you always have to have the last word. I've had enough! I wish you weren't here. I wish the goblins would take you away right now. I wish …
My tirade came to a sudden halt as I suddenly realised I was talking, make that yelling, to myself. Stunned, I looked around the living room as giggles and wriggles assailed me from all sides. What did I just say? Something about goblins? Surely not … it was just a movie, wasn't it? Well I thought it was until a large barn owl flew in through my window.
Or tried to. There was a little problem with the flyscreen. " Okay, okay," I said to myself, "it's just the King of the Goblins. You know the drill." An hysterical giggle escaped me.
"Just come in through the front door – it's not locked."
In spite of my forewarning, I was still unprepared for the shatteringly dramatic entry of aforementioned king. Watching a movie is one thing; having a real live magical being materialise in your living room is enough to scare the pants off you.
"You're him, aren't you." Oh yeah, real original, and infringes copyright too.
Whatever he thought of my opening line was impossible to tell. Light was shining all around him, turning him into a huge silhouette, billowing on a magical wind.
"Wh …" I closed my mouth and attempted to gather my completely scattered thoughts. I knew very well where the alleged love of my life was, and if Life indeed imitated Art, what was to follow.
Then he laughed. Exactly like David Bowie, and shivers went down my spine. The lighting returned from dramatic to somewhat normal, and glinted off the crystal he held in his hand. Momentarily mesmerised, I watched his hypnotic movements until his voice snapped my attention back to the present.
"Would you like it?" he offered, that voice like liquid silk.
"What are you going to do with Dave? I mean, he's a bit old to be turned into a goblin."
"Do you really care?"
No, I thought, I didn't. After seven years of good times, bad times, in-between times, I really didn't give a damn, and I told him so. "I don't really care for that either," I waved my hand at the crystal.
"Don't care for your dreams?" He seemed unbelieving.
"My dreams are right here, where they belong," I tapped the side of my forehead. "I don't particularly want them appearing in the real world until I'm ready to create them myself." I sat down on the sofa as he tucked the crystal away into thin air.
"Well then …"
"There's no need to look so relieved," I said crossly, "or were you afraid that the dreams of a mousy, overly-romantic thirty something woman might include a replica of a sexy eighties rock idol?" I allowed myself a long, admiring look, knowing that this was something I did not dare presume, and then snorted angrily. "Sheesh. Just got rid of one pesky male, why on earth would I want another!"
He held up his hands in mock defeat. "Very well, you don't want your man back, I will keep him. But remember that when wishes are granted, there is always a price to be paid." And he disappeared.
"I'll take my chances with that." I looked around the suddenly quiet room. For the amount of sparkling in the air which had accompanied my visitor, there was absolutely none to be found on the carpet. Magic – who really understood it. "Oh, and thank you," I called out, remembering my manners.
A price to be paid, I thought. Well, first things first – before I could revel in my freedom, luxuriate in my solitude, what on earth was I going to tell the in-laws?