'Wish'

Ken Chandler
Copyright © 2008
A Boy and his Dog

'Wish'
This story is dedicated to Mary Alice Williamson (who inspired it).

A cool breeze played over the grassy knoll where I sat watching my dog, Charlie, barking and darting through the tall grass below. A dozen Pheasant exploded into the air, Charlie leaped after them snapping at their tail feathers. Another lap around the grassy field produced another two-dozen frenzied pheasant flying for dog free pastures. I smiled, knowing that if Charlie ever caught one of them he wouldn’t know what to do with it. Then, except for the distant sound of pheasant flying away, all was quiet. I looked around for where Charlie had been playing and only saw tall grass bowing in waves across the length of the field. I stood and looked around to see if I could find see him, but couldn’t. “Charlie!” I shouted. “Charlie! C’mere boy. C’mon!” I made several loud kissing noises, a sound he would recognize as a call to return to me. Nothing.
“Charlie!” I called again straining to see any flash of black, brown or white from his coat. Still nothing caught my eye. Then a growl, barely audible over the shushing of grass, then I saw a flash of Charlie’s fur in the sea of green.

I sprinted down the hill to the spot where I’d seen him, but when I got to the spot he was no longer there. I stopped and listened, hoping my ears would catch… there! I darted to my right to see another flash of black and white against green, then he was gone again. A whimper to my left made me turn violently to see Charlie roll into view with something brown and dark red clinging to him. Charlie rolled several times, jaws snapped, he rolled again, but the thing wouldn’t let go. I jumped down beside Charlie and snatched at the thing, but Charlie twisted violently and I missed. “Hold still Charlie!” I scolded, “I’m trying to help.” I made another grab for the thing but only got a handful of Charlie’s course fur. He yelped, but I didn’t let go. With my free hand I lashed out again, and this time my hand connected with the thing. The moment I got a hold on it, it let go of Charlie and dangled limply in my hand.

For the first time I got a look at the thing, repulsed I almost let go. Fear that it might jump on Charlie’s back again, or grab my leg, forced me to hold it more tightly. The lumpy brown thing didn’t resist, but looked at me with angry tiny green eyes over its too long nose. It was nearly bald, and had a wide frowning mouth. Its arms, each, nearly as long as its entire body, were lean and strong looking. At the end of each of his leathery arms was a thin hand covered with a dozen short thin gnarly fingers. That explained how he was able to hold onto Charlie while he was thrashing around like he did. It had a round body that was covered with a maroon vest, buttoned in the front, none of the buttons matched. It also wore a pair of alternating brown and green striped pants that were roughly sewn together with heavy thread. His legs were short and thick. It appeared that he only had three toes, a thick dirty nail extended from the end of each of his toes. He stood roughly 9 inches tall, but was amazingly light for his size.

“Wha’dyus want?” It said, it’s voice was low and rumbled from deep within its body.
“What?” I said, nearly dropping it again in my astonishment.
“Same thing every time…,” It muttered something else that I didn’t catch. When it spoke again, it sounded angry. It gestured as it spoke. “Yous get one wishes,” It shot a single finger into the air. “whatever it is yous wants within reason. So c’mon, gits it over with.” He folded his arms across his chest and scowled venomously at me.
“Uh…,” I started.
“One wish!” it bellowed.
“Can I put you down, and you won’t run away, or jump on my dog again?” I asked.
“Is that your wish,” he asked abruptly, his expression unchanged.
“Er… no! No, I just wanted to know if…”
“No!” it snapped.
“Huh?”
He rocked his head back and forth, exaggerating his words. “No, I won’t runs away. Though abouts your dog...” His voice trailed off as he looked hungrily at Charlie, who whimpered and shuffled backwards into the deep grass. In a few moments all I could see was his nose and two dark eyes peering low through the grass.
“You can’t do anything to Charlie.” I was scared of this creepy little thing, but I didn’t like the way he was eyeing my dog.
As if I’d given him a command that he must obey he shrugged, and muttered something indistinct again.
“Okay?” I asked again, giving him a serious look.
“Okays,” He mumbled.
Slowly, I lowered him to the ground, and reluctantly released my grip. To my great relief he didn’t move. He just stood with his shoulders hunched, looking grumpy, and glared at me with those penetrating green eyes, his hands still folded across his chest.
“So, what was this about a wish? You said something about a wish,” I said.
“One wishes, mind. You only gets one,” He jabbed the finger into the air in front of him again.
“One wish?” I questioned. “That’s not fair. One wish.” I sighed.
“I don’t makes the rules,” He growled. “And makes it quickly, I ‘aven’t gots all days.”
“Yeah, okay,” I waved a hand toward him, shutting him up. “One wish,” I thought for a moment. “Okay, I’ve got it! I want you to make my dog talk, in English," I emphasized, "so I can understand him.”
“Nopes.” He said quickly.
“What? No!” I said, outraged. “Why not?”
“I don’t makes the rules, nows do I? There are powerful forces at works here, and they demands that there will be no talking animalses.”
“But…” I started.
“No butses.” He cut me off. “Thems the ruleses.”
“Yeah. Well then just forget it!” I said turning my back on the creature and stalked away.
“But yous gotta makes a wishes!” he said. “I am duty bound to gives you the wishes of your hearts.”
"Probably wouldn't work anyway!" I shouted over my shoulder still walking. Charlie trotted up beside me, his body slung low, his tail tucked between his legs, and not making a sound. On the long walk home I noticed that Charlie kept looking back behind us than trotting ahead, slowing just enough to let me catch up. And every now and then I could hear a grumbling voice muttering something that I couldn’t make out.

That was twenty years ago. And every so often I get the impression that I’m being followed, or that I’m not alone in an empty room. And on windy nights as a lie awake, I can sometimes hear a low voice carried over the breeze that I think is saying, “No talking animalses.”