Be Careful with your Wishing | Teen Ink

Be Careful with your Wishing

September 13, 2015
By BrennanK BRONZE, Minneapolis, Minnesota
BrennanK BRONZE, Minneapolis, Minnesota
3 articles 0 photos 2 comments

Favorite Quote:
&quot;Wield them proud for they are your own<br /> Words are yours to cast in stone.<br /> Unsheathe them with reason and rhyme<br /> Reveal them so they may last through time.&quot;<br /> <br /> -One of my favorite authors on hellopoetry.com


I don’t remember my parents. I think they’re dead, but they’re just faded memories that have no place in the outside of my head. The reality is this: I’m alone in the world. It’s starting to snow, and I know I’ve eaten in the past few days, but I don’t remember when. I have my soft, eggshell blue hat, made of the wool that tickles my ears. I have my pretty green book that I don’t know how to read.
I have my torn pants, my ragged shirt. And I have my smile. My smile is always somewhere. I see it when I look at the rippling, frigid puddles I walk through. I see it flashing, sometimes, in the glass of the tiny shops that I don’t go into. I’ve only gone in once, and that’s when I got my hat, my book, and my nondescript bag that I use as a pillow, and to keep my book safe. I like living like this.
I walk the gray stone streets, looking at the gray stone sky, and wondering at the gray stone people. Cold stone people, who only move when they have to. They only laugh when appropriate, only smile when called for. I never understand.
I follow them, the people. When they rest, I rest. When they eat, I work for my share. When they cry, I watch, fascinated. At night, I go home to my bridge, on rocks warm from the sun, and I count the stars.

I remember when I started to wish.
Two voices were above me. I couldn’t see them, but they sounded lower, like men’s voices. They were both slow voices, drifting through the dark. They sounded like water, slowly moving under ice. They were wondering, like me. They were counting stars, like me. But when one of the falling stars vanished, their voices rose and fell quickly, overlapping. A waterfall.
“Look! A shootin’ star,” said one.
“Make a wish.” Silence.
“Naw, my wish won’t come true. It ain’t worth wishin’!” the other said. He sounded almost defensive to me, the way his voice rose.
“All righ’ all righ’,” the second said, “Les go.” His voice was slow again.
I listened to them walk away, their feet drumming the wet stones. I looked for my smile in the water, uneasy. It wasn’t there. And that’s when I started wishing.
I don’t think it’s good to wish for too many things at once, that’s greedy. So once I decided on my wish, I focused on it, and I really, really hoped it would come true.

I’d been wishing with all my strength, because that faded away. I’d been wishing with all my smile, it was much harder to find it, until one day I couldn’t. I must have wished away my wish, because then I was just sad.
I couldn’t see my friendly smile anymore, not waving in the lapping water or flashing from the bright glass. I guess I wished so hard, that I turned into one of the cold, gray stone people, because one day, that’s what my smile showed me, in the water.


The author's comments:

I have no idea where this came from, it just came in a flood one night.


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