Challenge #140: Wishes - March 6th
Drabble series (4 x 100)
March 6th, 1974
"Make a wish."
Dan scrunched up his eyes closed, picturing the bike he wanted: a two wheeler like David's, except red.
I wish I get a bike.
He opened his eyes and took a deep breath.
Sam fussed and whined beside him.
I wish Sam would be quiet.
He blew out his candles before realizing what he'd done. "Can I change it?"
Mom shook her head. "One wish per birthday."
He saw Sam digging into the cake, icing already smeared on his face. Dan decided it was ok that this wish came true, but hoped his first one would too.
March 6th, 1980
"Make a wish."
Dan snuck a peak at Sam who grinned back at him. The rule, they'd decided last night, was that telling someone what you'd wished would stop it from coming true, but discussing what to wish for beforehand was fair game.
I wish that Sam and I always have two more wishes.
Wishing for one wouldn't work because you'd have to use it to wish for another wish, but with two wishes, they could have a spare wish whenever they wanted.
Dan opened his eyes and gave a slight nod to Sam before turning back to the cake.
March 6th, 1985
"Make a wish."
Dan rolled his eyes, wondering how old he'd have to be before they could do away with silly traditions. That they still made David make a wish meant Dan probably had at least another three or four years of this nonsense ahead of him.
He treated his mom to his best "I can't believe you're doing this to me" look before blinking his eyes closed.
I wish I had more pot.
He blew out the candles quickly, scarfed down his slice of cake as fast as he could, and ran out to meet up with his friends.
March 6th, 1988
"Make a wish."
Dan said the words out loud to himself, alone in his dorm room. He flicked open the Zippo Sam had given him for his last birthday and watched the flame dance.
Barring a terse call from home earlier, there'd been no Happy Birthday's. Knowing he wouldn't want to spend the day faking a celebratory mood, he'd started telling people early last semester that his birthday was in July, when he'd be back in Connecticut.
I wish it'd been me, Sam.
Dan puffed out the flame and clicked the lighter closed. He went off in search of beer.
March 6th, 1974
"Make a wish."
Dan scrunched up his eyes closed, picturing the bike he wanted: a two wheeler like David's, except red.
I wish I get a bike.
He opened his eyes and took a deep breath.
Sam fussed and whined beside him.
I wish Sam would be quiet.
He blew out his candles before realizing what he'd done. "Can I change it?"
Mom shook her head. "One wish per birthday."
He saw Sam digging into the cake, icing already smeared on his face. Dan decided it was ok that this wish came true, but hoped his first one would too.
March 6th, 1980
"Make a wish."
Dan snuck a peak at Sam who grinned back at him. The rule, they'd decided last night, was that telling someone what you'd wished would stop it from coming true, but discussing what to wish for beforehand was fair game.
I wish that Sam and I always have two more wishes.
Wishing for one wouldn't work because you'd have to use it to wish for another wish, but with two wishes, they could have a spare wish whenever they wanted.
Dan opened his eyes and gave a slight nod to Sam before turning back to the cake.
March 6th, 1985
"Make a wish."
Dan rolled his eyes, wondering how old he'd have to be before they could do away with silly traditions. That they still made David make a wish meant Dan probably had at least another three or four years of this nonsense ahead of him.
He treated his mom to his best "I can't believe you're doing this to me" look before blinking his eyes closed.
I wish I had more pot.
He blew out the candles quickly, scarfed down his slice of cake as fast as he could, and ran out to meet up with his friends.
March 6th, 1988
"Make a wish."
Dan said the words out loud to himself, alone in his dorm room. He flicked open the Zippo Sam had given him for his last birthday and watched the flame dance.
Barring a terse call from home earlier, there'd been no Happy Birthday's. Knowing he wouldn't want to spend the day faking a celebratory mood, he'd started telling people early last semester that his birthday was in July, when he'd be back in Connecticut.
I wish it'd been me, Sam.
Dan puffed out the flame and clicked the lighter closed. He went off in search of beer.