The Wishbinder

The Wishbinder

By P.N.Holland

He leaned over his computer and smiled. Finally, the story’s finished. He rose from the desk feeling like a load had been lifted. A walk would be just the thing. Out of his room and into the hall he grabbed his coat and hat and scanned the room.

Looking at the picture of him and his wife on the mantle, he thought of their relationship over the last thirty years and his shoulders sagged at the memory of the strained feelings between them, the unsaid words. They hardly talked anymore. He couldn’t remember the last time they were intimate. Did she even know that he was lonely?

He enjoyed the little things like watering the plants, changing a light bulb, washing the dishes or working in the garden, his garden. Yet, he felt conflicted. I am tired of this life. I feel like a piece of furniture in this cookie cutter house. There must be more to life. I need something else.

He opened the front door and stepped slowly out. He stood on the threshold, feeling like a departing visitor. A few steps down the path he glanced back. The grey stone house sat like all the rest of them, cold and uninviting. I wouldn’t miss this dismal life. Would anyone even care if I disappeared? He sighed, turned and his feet carried him up the street and along the road. The fresh air hit his face and gave him a new sense of direction. He greeted it with a smile and quickened his pace. It had been comfortable there. I chose my own routine, made what I wanted to eat, played the games I liked. Yet, he had no real freedom. He was attached to it all; no purpose, no adventure, no destiny. He was just another human piece in the world’s puzzle, not alive just existing. All the relief, the good feelings in his study had vanished. Was he already dead?

An intersection loomed ahead with the woods on one side and the city streets on the other. He looked along the street. Cars zipped by and the mechanical drone was a painful reminder of what he hated─ the routine, the daily rituals, the boring conversations with robot people in little box houses, all the same. It was so artificial. Some evil god had packaged humanity like a child connecting Lego; one little plastic piece at a time, all linked and perfect. He hated it. To the left he saw trees, fields, birds singing overhead and back in the trees ─ was that a deer? It was like nature had been pushed aside onto a reserve so we didn’t lose it completely, it wasn’t convenient to have it around; just keep it there to look at once in a while.

He crossed the road and stepped into the field. The sun warmed his face and the sky appeared bluer here. Along the soft, dirt path swallows darted about scolding him, telling him to go back to the asphalt world where he belonged. But he persisted, strolling through the meadow where the purples, yellows and reds of daffodils, lilies, crocuses and wild roses waved before him, inviting him to join their colorful dance. The perfume of the foliage welcomed him and he wished he had been born into another age; one without motors, computers and the ever-present internet, like an invisible God warping their reality. Closer to the trees, he recognized butterflies, robins and jays as they warned the wood of his approach. Insects buzzed in between the stately columns of firs, oak and maple.

He jumped back as a dog raced out barking at the birds. The owner yelled after it, controlling the dog’s natural instincts. Maybe I should follow my instincts, leave the city and find a place in the natural world. He passed the woman scolding the dog.

“Good afternoon,” he said as he went by. She didn’t even look his way. It was as if he wasn’t there. He shook his head as he reached the trees. A cool wind welcomed him. He smelled the sweet sap of the firs and marveled at the twisted forms of the red arbutus. The joyful chirping of a robin lilted down from high up in a tree and he wished he could fly up to it and live there. It is so quiet and soothing; green and inviting. As he walked on, he spied a stream. The rustling water whispered to him, slow down, sit and sleep. He watched three children build a makeshift dam by piling boulders and small logs in the water. Their laughter and splashing reminded him of his childhood. He perched at the edge and watched the water wind its way deeper into the wood. Reaching down he cupped the cool, clear water in his hands and tasted its natural flavor. It renewed him and he stood up. Looking into the depths of the greenery he saw a flick of white, the tail of a deer? Heading towards it in hopes of seeing the beautiful animal brought back a memory.

It was long ago when he was a boy and he lived by a beautiful, green wood with a creek bubbling through the middle. He used to go there to get away from the craziness of his childhood ─ the anger and yelling of his father, his mother’s tears. His older sister had left the home long before he could and he felt alone. He remembered the proud, majestic animals standing by the stream, their breath steamy in the morning air. It was beautiful.

One day his father brought men with big bulldozers, backhoes and dump trucks and in a week, they had destroyed the little wood, filling it in so his father could sell it as another lot. It was all about the money and he needed lots of it. He didn’t care about the animals who lost their homes.

His stomach lurched at the memory. What had happened to the family of deer? He still felt guilty and ashamed.

He was closer now; the deer stood with its head cocked, listening for something, smelling something in the wind. It was a three point, its tail twitched and its ears were up. It must have picked up his scent. The wood seemed to hush; even the wind died down.

A white tail flashed as the mighty stag leaped behind a tree. In three bounds it was out of sight. He stood there stunned and disappointed. He wished he’d been more careful. That was not man’s way. He would continue to slash and burn and fill in the woods for more houses to live out his artificial life. Sitting down on a stump from a fallen tree, the man swished the flies and mosquitoes away with his hat and sighed. Then he smelled the woods again and looked around at the peaceful trees and plants. This world feels more real than the one I left. I will find freedom here. I wish to survive the way God intended ─ embracing nature, not destroying it.

A sharp cry from above and the beat of powerful wings assailed his ears breaking his thoughts. He looked up through the sun filtered trees. A large shadow swooped down; closer and closer it spiraled. He stood and took refuge beside a big, red fir. Fear rolled over him like a rash. He breathed slowly, his muscles tense. Maybe he had been wrong about the tranquil wood.

“You wish to live in my wood,” a harsh voice said. It was more of a statement than a question.

“Y-yes, but who are you?” he stammered, moving slowly out from the tree.

“I am the Wishbinder of this wood. I grant wishes to those who desire them. You only have to ask.” He could now see a large, bird-like creature with human features, silver wings and claws resting on a large branch above his head.

“What would I have to do in return?” he asked.

“Only be true to your desires, for once you have entered you can never return. Your wish is final and you must serve the wood for the remainder of your days.”

“Okay, I wish to be a part of the wood.” the man said quickly.

“Are you sure?” the creature asked. Its eyes cut sideways, sly and secretive.

The man thought for a moment. What could be worse than my pitiful reason for existence now? I could be free to live in this beautiful wood with nature at my feet. He looked up at the Wishbinder. “Yes, I wish to be a part of this wood…forever.” There I’ve said it.

The bird laughed, spread its huge wings and left the branch, spiraling up into the air. “Your wish is granted.” Its hollow laughter upset him. What have I done? The man looked around; everything looked the same. He felt the same. How am I different? What is different? What have I become? He looked for the bird but it was gone.

Gradually he noticed that the wood was darkening and the trees seemed somehow less inviting. The birds shrieked at him and the wind whipped into his face. He walked quickly back towards the sounds of the city. Doubt seeped into his soul. Maybe it hadn’t changed anything. Could he go home; back to his garden, his library and his cozy kitchen? Still, he felt disappointed. If the spell didn’t work, I might as well go home. He followed the path to the stream. The children had left, but they had built quite an imposing structure to stop the water which was pooling and rising ready to flood the bank. He stood and looked at it for a time, caught between intervening and leaving it alone. If I leave it, it might flood the field and change the course of the stream. This could ruin the wood. He went to work pulling away the boulders and logs. The water found its natural path and continued on its way as it had been before the children obstructed it.

He smiled and stepped out into the field. The children were kicking a ball, two dogs were chasing them and a lady was sitting on a blanket. He smiled and walked towards the children. They didn’t look at him. He reached the lady on the blanket. She didn’t see him.

“Hello,” he said. She did not answer him. “Hello!” he said louder. She did not respond or even look at him. She can’t see me. Am I invisible?

“Tom, David, Sarah, come and eat!” the mother called to her children. The boys and the dogs immediately stopped playing and ran to the blanket but the girl was chasing the ball as it headed towards the busy street. He saw a group of cyclists talking and racing along the roadway, paying no attention to the little girl as she ran into the street. He ran through the field in fear, yelling for the girl to stop, but she didn’t hear him and as he reached the roadway, he felt something pull him back towards the wood. He could only watch in desperation as one of the cyclists ran into her. The cyclists stopped, one of them picked her up and they called to her mother. The family all rushed to the roadside. Sarah was crying but seemed okay. She only had scratches and minor cuts. Her mother carried her to the blanket. The cyclists made sure she was okay before they continued on their way.

What is going on? Why couldn’t I help her? The man thought as he watched the family tend to Sarah.

“I told you. You cannot return. You belong to the wood now and must serve it. You cannot interfere with the living, only help them to feel comfortable by caring for the wood.”

He looked back and saw the Wishbinder sitting on a tree branch at the edge of the field. The children and the lady didn’t seem to notice it.

“But isn’t saving someone from harm helping them?” He was feeling more human than he ever had.

“It is not your choice anymore. You relinquished that right with your oath to the wood.”

“But she is just a child,” the man wailed.

“Enough of this. You have chosen your path,” the Wishbinder unfolded and flapped his wings.

“I will serve but not as a prisoner!” he yelled in desperation.

“You have made your choice. Your wish is binding. Come, there are chores to do.”

The man cried out and tried to reach the road but he was pushed back to the trees as if by a strong wind. He wailed louder as he disappeared into the trees.

“I would rather be at home living my boring life than live as a slave!”

The Wishbinder laughed. “You must accept your fate. At least you will have the trees to keep you company.”

“But what of my life, my house, my books; I can’t just leave it all there.”

“You left it as soon as you went out of your front door, don’t you remember?”

“Yes, but I was wrong. I want to go back.”

“You cannot go back.” The Wishbinder flew away towards the field where the children were playing.

Back on the blanket the woman set out sandwiches, drinks and apples for lunch.

“Mother, did you hear someone?” Sarah asked as she wiped away her tears.

“No, dear, it was just the wind in the trees,” answered her mother caressing her

“But it sounded like someone crying. Can we go for a walk in the woods, mother? Maybe someone needs help.”

“Maybe tomorrow, dear; it’s getting late. Eat some supper.” The little girl sighed and reached for a sandwich. She looked over to the trees.

“I belong in the world of people like this family,” the man argued as he watched them eat.

The Wishbinder smiled. Looking at the man, he said, “Come to the stream and I will show you why you cannot return.” The man hung his head and followed the birdlike creature. He watched as the Wishbinder reached over and touched his claw to the water. The surface flickered with light and an image appeared. His wife appeared, standing over a desk, his desk. A body slumped across it, lifeless. He recognized the clothes, the ring on his finger, his wedding ring. Oh my God.

The Wishbinder smiled as the image faded.