Be Careful What You Wish For
Back From The Dead

“Cindy, do you remember when we were girls?" Susan asked. "We used to play in the back yard. I remember we didn’t have enough money for dolls, so we played with sticks instead with the boys, pretending we were soldiers. You asked dad one time after we were done playing why people wanted to hurt each other. You had just gotten whacked on the head by Bobby Whistler, do you remember that?” Susan’s eyes met Cindy’s with a sincere gravity. Susan’s gaze was like that of a puppy that was looking for affection. Cindy managed a nod. “Well, I remember what Dad told you. He said: ‘Cindy dear, it’s not that people necessarily want to hurt each other. It’s just that people’s needs and wants conflict, and sometimes that leads to violence when they can’t communicate those differences in needs and wants.’ I really didn’t understand it too much then, but I sure do now.” Susan averted her eyes for second and took a breath. “Look, what I’m trying to say is that Will died for something he believed in. He felt that he was defending what decency is left in the world. Anyway, I wrote you something, here read it.” Susan slipped Cindy a small piece of folded paper. On it, in Susan’s immaculate script was the following:

One hand fails to grasp      

The other steadies the fall

One leg fails to stand

The other somehow pulls through

One light in the dark

It’s soon joined by another

One heart throbs in pain

Its voice is echoed by none

-‘Take what you will from life, but don’t let life take your will away.’

 I love you Cindy, you’ll always be my little sister

         Susan

Tears found their way to Cindy’s eyes again. She couldn’t say how long she cried for, but it must have been quite a while because Miriam looked like she was on her third or fourth glass of bourbon. The mother hen visage had warped slightly to that of a weary chicken running from a farmer. When she had calmed down enough to speak she directed her eyes to her mother first. “I’m going to Denver in the morning. I could use the company, but I’ll understand if you can’t make it on such short notice.”

“What is this Denver business about? What’s so important there?”

“There’s a…woman that I need to see about Will’s death. I think she can help me.” The room fell silent. Cindy’s mother nodded and motioned for Susan to follow. The two of them retreated to the guest bedrooms while Cindy retreated to her own room.

.....

The Next Day

The gypsy’s shop was larger than Cindy remembered, and more cluttered as well. Piles of books lined the walkway into the small shop trailing all the way into a back room hidden by a large red curtain. Candles, seemingly carelessly strewn about the room provided the only light in the hallway.

“Cindy Lane, do come in. It’s been a couple years no?” Cindy stopped dead in her tracks. How did the woman know it was her? “Child I know many things, do not be frightened.” Behind her Susan gasped and tugged on Cindy’s sleeve. She had almost forgotten Susan was back there. Without turning to look at her sister Cindy pushed through the curtain. The woman seated at the small table in the center of the circular room was different than Cindy remembered. Her hair had turned from brown to a stark white. Madame Else slowly raised her head to look at Cindy.

“Oh my god! Look at her eyes!” Susan whispered fiercely. Cindy had noticed it too. Madame Else’s eyes were an extremely bright yellow. Cindy racked her brain for a reason why but she came up empty.

“Not quite god my child. But maybe I can answer some of your prayers.” She pointed, indicating for them to have a seat. “Please sit.” Cindy and Susan acquiesced wordlessly, taking seats opposite Else at the small round table.

“I know why you’ve come, but are you sure it’s what you want?” Those yellow eyes were piercing.

“Well of course it is! Why wouldn’t I want my William back!?”

“I will tell you this first child, then think on it and make up your own mind. I too once thought that I knew what I wanted, but it turned out I made a grave mistake. Now I must live with that mistake for the rest of my life, it will always be a burden I cannot shed, an obligation I cannot ignore, it will consume me. When you wish or pray for something, someone does hear you. But know this child, they may not give you exactly what you seek. The higher powers like to play games with us, we are like their own personal chess game.”