Mismatch Wish - Part Three

The bottles beside the couch rattle and roll once again, the sight of a nice bottle of Cabernet spinning out into view as I wheeze on the floor. My chest aches from falling onto it, every fiber of my being burning from exertion after all that had happened.

"Okay, you're mad, but..." comes a tiny voice from inside the lamp, the sound barely audible even inches from the brass antique.

"Honey?!" Calls a voice from somewhere in my home. My head tilts up as I blow the matted hair from my face. My blood runs cold, the sound of the approaching footsteps reinvigorating me and demanding my body to flee.

As I look up from the floor, my chest pooling out beneath me and my naked body on full display, I watch as the owner of the voice rounds the corner and my gaze falls on an Athletic and tan redhead, dressed in a leather apron and torn jeans, shaking her head as she looks down at me.

Mismatch Wish - Part Two

I'm thrown back into my seat, my whole body pinned into the cushions as wisps of purple mist begin to wrap around me.

"I'll try to make it as normal as possible" Amira explains, her visage soon disappearing from view as I find myself entombed in the reddish-purple smoke. "No monkey's paws, no sudden unexplained changes people will notice.

I open my mouth to say something, only for a thickly perfumed plume of smoke to rush in to fill the void inside.

I hear some papers rustle as Amira reads the three wishes from her collection before muttering "I suppose these ones will be fine." Her voice shakes a little with uncertainty, wavering like the flimsy sheets of paper in her hand. She begins to mutter something under her breath, the sound of her words falling away as they're soon overwhelmed by the crackling of bones.

"Let's see... I wish that I..."

Mismatch Wish - Part One

Taking a deep breath I turn to look over my living room, my gaze darting about as I search for more cleaning to do. I had been up since the wee hours of the morning, slowly working to tidy and get my living space back into working order after months of neglect.

Walls had been dusted, bedroom cups washed, and floors vacuumed. I can't help but look over the room with a satisfied grin, from the freshly dusted bookshelves to the dishes drying by the sink. Slowly turning to my old and well-loved green sofa I begin to pace over to the canvas bags sitting on the cushions.

"I think it's about time..." I mutter with a grin, pulling open the bag as the eclectic haul inside catches the afternoon sun.