The Wish Eater

Wish Eater

Pastor Jenkins knelt in front of the purple-and-gold-cloth-covered pulpit with his eyes focused on the large cross mounted on the wall behind it, and his brow, knitted in consternation as he prayed.

“Father God I thank you for this mighty blessing. I thank you, for making a way out of no way Father. I thank…” The pastor paused, listening intently to the silence, thinking he had heard something in the empty church. Several seconds passed in stillness before he continued, “I thank you, dear God, for hearing my prayer, for giving me an opportunity, for…”

A sound like a whispering wind whistling through a window reached his ears, causing him to pause mid-prayer. This time though, he was certain that he’d heard a noise. Before he could turn around something jumped on his back, and wrapped a cold muscled arm around his chest and shoulders; the intruder’s great weight rendering him immobile.

‘Hhhheeeee didn’t give you thissss.’ The figure on his back hissed, as it stretched a boney finger forward to point at the high hanging crucifix; its wet sandpaper susurrations setting his soul a shiver. ‘It wasssss mheeeee. I think it is iiiih who should be the recipient of all that praisssse. What do you ssssay? Shall we pray, Revvvveraaand???’

Before he could reply, and with barely any effort, the thing flung him from the floor and into the air. Less than a half-second later, it too, was aerial. Meeting the airborne pastor at the zenith of his impromptu flight, it nimbly caught him midair, turning his flailing body around in just enough time for his back to slam with a resounding crack, into the overlarge wood and metal crucifix, using its long arms to immediately pin the pastor to the crossbeams.

Pastor Jenkins squeezing his eyes closed, whimpered in confusion and terror. For seconds, both emotions waged war across the cleric’s aged face, until finally, as the creature’s grip tightened, crushing the fragile bones of the pastor’s wrist, turning his fear-filled whimpers into lurid screams, did the warring emotions lose their battle to incomprehensible pain of the pastor having his arms stretched beyond their limits.

‘Now thisss just won’t duuuue,’ the dark creature growled malevolently, its fetid breath burning the pastor’s nose hairs. ‘It ssseems your aarmsss aren’t loooong enuffff. Let us rectify the issssue.

At his words a blood-curdling shriek erupted from the reverend's throat as the demon heaved, ripping both arms, simultaneously, from their sockets. Even as the skin, muscles, and tendons of his shoulders tore, spurting gouts of blood onto the creature’s face, it kept pulling, finally slamming the pastor’s hands onto the giant railroad spikes nailed into the ends of the cross. Upon his crucifixion the pastor screeched even louder, his screams echoing noisily throughout the interior of the big empty building.

‘Open your eyes, Priest.’ The demon cooed.

Pastor Jenkin’s screams faded once again into pained filled whimpers, as he complied with the creature’s command, finding himself unable to resist. Silence reigned over the sanctuary, the sight of the demonic being causing his throat to seize, restricting even his pitiful whines. He stared transfixed, unable to look away from the terror that held him captive, even as the deep ocean blue of his irises were drained of their color, turning milky gray. Helplessly he watched, as a face made up of a single large white, iris-less eye, a mouth that seemed to stretch past the confines of its head, and purple-black skin suffused with hundreds of gnashing teeth and tongues, descended upon him, before the darkness finally took him.

“Good morning city of Midland! Starting off this Monday morning we have some shocking news. Robert Schneider-Jenkins, the pastor, who just weeks ago made headlines, after claiming that God had miraculously gifted him the megachurch of his prayers…was found murdered over the weekend. The reverend appeared to have been dead for several days before his body was found, at this moment police have not ruled out foul play. If you recall, Pastor Jenkins received the megachurch after a snafu, during an auction bid, made him the proud new owner of the recently built Exxon building. Construction on the Exxon building had been halted and any further plans for development, abandoned, due to dropping oil prices. The funeral will be held this Sunday in lieu of regular Sunday services; at the ‘Greater Gift of God’ megachurch, off of Yukon Road and 87th. And in other news! Today at twelve, we’ll sit down with local, lottery winner, Debra Ringold! So, she can tell us all about how a dream turned her into a millionaire, literally overnight! Some people have all the luck don’t they Diane?”

“They sure do Jim—”

The rest of the co-anchor’s words were cut off, as Evelyn Dominguez hit the power button on her remote.

“They suuuure do,” she sighed heavily to herself as she crossed yet another name off the long list of, ‘jobs not hiring at the moment’, that she had written in her money book. The money book was nothing more than a green college-ruled notebook that she wrote in using green ink. Evelyn wasn’t the superstitious or religious type but her ex-catholic recently turned Wiccan of a younger sister had been adamant.

“Write the names of the jobs you want in a green book using green ink,” she had said. Apparently, it was supposed to attract money and luck and coincidentally, help her hydrangeas grow. Not that she even owned, or would own hydrangeas. Why she had ever listened to someone who adamantly believed that every single government on the planet was involved in a collective conspiracy to keep the masses ignorant about the true shape of the earth, was utterly beyond her.

“Desperate I guess,” she groaned to herself before rolling out of the bed. The Jim and Diane Early Morning Show meant that it was 7 am, which meant that she had an hour and a half to make it to La Abuelita’s. As was routine, if she went and woke Josie up now, they’d have enough time to brush their teeth, wash, their face, get dressed, and have a nice thick bowl of instant oatmeal; before shuffling out the door to catch the 8:00 bus from Dixie to Meta. After the fifteen-to-twenty-minute bus ride to Josie’s daycare, a ‘quick’ ten-minute walk would take her to La Abuelita’s, where she busted tables, and on especially busy days, earned a little extra cash by helping with the dishes. “Josie,” she called softly, peeking her head into the little girl’s room. “Es hora de despertar mi amor! It's time to wake up!” Her sing-song voice, rising in volume as she entered fully into the room. “Josie?” she exclaimed in confusion, a cold fear gripping her heart. Her wide eyes, already filling with unintended tears, desperately swept over the small bed, a bed that was noticeably lacking the sleeping body of her daughter. “Josie!?” she yelled again running her hands over the bed with its blue ice-princess comforter, her panic-stricken mind not wanting to believe her eyes. “Jo—”

“Hi, mommy!”

Evelyn spun around. Grinning unabashedly from ear to ear, with a mouth full of frothy white toothpaste bubbles, and wearing her favorite Elsa and Anna pajamas, was her four-year-old little girl.

“Ay, Dios mío!” Evelyn shouted at her daughter, her anxiety instantly turning into frustration. “Don’t do that! You almost gave me a heart attack!” She berated the cute little girl, and pushing herself from the floor. “What are you even doing out of bed already?!”

“I was brushing my teeth!” Josie said happily, in clear expectation of praise for her endeavoring. When none was forthcoming, her expression turned confused then comforting, as she asked, “Did I scare you, mom?”

“Yes mija, a little,” Evelyn admitted, wrapping Josie up in a hug, causing the little girl to giggle. “Did you think a monster got me?”

“I don’t know what I thought.” Evelyn sighed, releasing her daughter from the hug and giving her shoulders a rub before standing.

“Mommyyyy,” the little girl’s voice grew stern. “I told you! Monsters cannot. Get. To me!”

“Because you have superpowers, I know! I know! Sorry!” Evelyn said, hiding her grin behind her hand, and affecting an air of complete and utter contrition. “So, what are you doing up anyway, little one?” she asked as the two made their way down the narrow hallway to the cramped bathroom.

“Um, I don’t know,” the little girl said, carefully avoiding her mother’s inquisitive gaze as she hoisted herself up onto the turned down toilet seat, her usual perch for brushing her teeth, as it allowed her to look in the sink mirror as she brushed. “Not ti-yerd, I guess,” she said shrugging her shoulders up to her ears, an overly exaggerated attempt at nonchalance. Before Evelyn could probe into her daughter’s sudden caginess, the harsh brassy sound of her alarm going off her, interrupted thoughts.

“Shoot! It's 7:20 already?! Okay, prima! Let’s get those teeth brushed! Remember your clothes are on your dresser. I’ll go start breakfast.”

“Mommy, can we go to the trampoline park today, if I be good at daycare and I don’t go to timeout?” Josie asked batting her eyes, as Evelyn cleared the table.

“Uh. We’ll see honey, okay? But if not, how bout we go to the park; huh? How does that sound?”

“If daddy was here could we go to the trampoline park?” the little girl asked sadly, the crestfallen look on her face, threatening to break Evelyn’s heart. Kneeling down, she took the child’s hands into her own.

“Yeah, maybe. But daddy’s gone and he’s not coming back, sweety. Now go get your backpack so we can go.”

“Daddy comes back when I’m sleeping sometimes.”

“Yeah, those are called dreams honey, they’re not real life”

“But you said dreams come true.”

“I-”, she paused, thinking. “It’s true that dreams come true. Just not ones about people who went to heaven, okay?” The little girl sadly nodded her understanding. “Now, hurry, go get your backpack or we’re gonna be late.” Josie jumped down from the chair, and Evelyn stood, wiping away a tear that had fell down her cheek, in the process. It had been just over a year ago that Cal had died. Without him, and then the sudden onset of a viral pandemic, that had forced all employers to cut hours and reduce manpower, making end meets had become an almost impossible task. It was doubly worse for someone like her who depended on tips for the majority of her wages. But with the mandate for everyone to say inside, restaurants across the nation had turned into ghost towns.

“Ready!” Josie called out cheerfully, stomping down the hallway.

“Okay! Meet me at the front door,” Evelyn called back, doing her best to hide the sudden thickness of her voice. With a quick swipe of her fingers, she wiped under her eyes once more, despite knowing oil-based didn’t run; old habits die hard, she shrugged. Finally, she pushed Josie’s chair under the table, grabbed her purse from the back of it, and headed to the door.

“Oh, come on,” Evelyn said impatiently, tapping her foot as she checked her watch. It was 8:15. At this rate, she’d be late, and thanks to the 8 am bus’s dawdling driver, it would be the third time in as many days. She fanned her uniform collar, the midsummer morning starting to heat up, the temperature already reaching the high seventies. She sighed looking up into a bright cloudless sky. “God, if you’re there, hell, if anyone is there. Please, please, send a little luck my way.” The sound of the big bus engaging the air brakes, startled her away from her appeal to a higher power. “Come on, baby!” she reaffirmed her grip on Josie’s hand as the two hustled onto the bus. The question of why she didn’t hear the large bus approaching, never crossing her mind. She hustled Josie to the back of the crowded bus, squeezing in near the back door, she gripped an overhead grab-bar with one hand, and her daughter with the other. She watched through the large tinted windows as the city rushed by. As the bus rounded a corner, Evelyn looked to see a tall black billboard, with tall white letters in the center of it reading: WHAT WOULD YOU DO WITH $20,000? JOIN—. The rest of the message had been torn off by the dry, west Texas summer wind no doubt, leaving a bright brown scar across the blacked-out advertisement. ‘Hmph,’ she chuckled to herself. ‘What would I do with twenty-kay

Well, a car wouldn’t hurt. Maybe then, I could finally let Josie get some real sunlight. She’s a good kid, but I know she’s tired of being cooped up in the house day in and day out.’ She grimaced at the thought of her parenting failures. ‘Ugh, being poor is expensive, would I even be able to get a car without paying off that godforsaken credit card? Right, card and a car, that’s basically…pshh…ten-grand, down the drain already. But,’ she continued, visibly brightening at the new thought. ‘After that… I could put a little away for bills, and a little away for Josie! And who knows? I might have enough left over to finally take Josie on that trip to Japan me and Calvin promised her, or even focus on writing full time! LOL.’ That last internal giggle, actually making its way up her throat to bubble off of her lips.

“Uhh, ma’am?”

The confused voice of the elderly man that had apparently been trying to get her attention for a while, broke into her musings, bringing her back to the present.

“S-Sorry, uh. What’d you say?” she looked down at the still seated man, just as confused as he seemed to be.

“I said, I’m getting off at the next stop. And if you’d like, you and your daughter can have my seat.” He replied, offering her a wide grandfatherly smile.

“Ohhh, well thank you!” she chuckled a little embarrassedly.

As if on cue a Ding, played over the bus’s P.A. system and the automated voice of the bus read off the street name of the swiftly approaching stop.

“Welp, that’s me,” the elderly gentleman said, standing with a groan, as the bus driver engaged the brakes. Smoothly, the two traded places, Evelyn taking the seat, and Josie taking her lap. The old man descended the few steps to the concrete sidewalk, Evelyn sparing him a final glance as the bus pulled off.

“Mommy! That man forgot his wallet!” Josies suddenly cried out, waving a little black leather-bound book in her mom’s face. Hurriedly, Evelyn grabbed the small leather-bound booklet from Josie and stood, whether to yell at the bus driver to stop or at the man to wait, her conscious mind never decided, immediately surmising that it was too late to do either. With an awkward smile, to the few fellow riders that had looked over at her daughter’s outburst, Evelyn sat back down.

“Are you gonna give that man back his wallet, mommy?” Evelyn’s inquisitive four-year-old asked. A look of impending rebuke already creating crease lines in her small face should her mother prove herself to be anything but an honest and upstanding citizen.

“Well, it’s not a wallet sweetie, it’s a book.”

“Ohhh.” The little girl said, sitting back, resting against her mother’s bosom, seemingly mollified, as if that fact somehow changed the ethical ramifications of keeping another person’s property. Chuckling to herself at the mysterious ways of children, Evelyn decided to open the nondescript little black book.

“Let’s see what it says.” She said, instantly garnering the little girl’s attention as she opened it. The pages felt parchment-thin beneath her fingertips, but despite their ancient feel, they possessed a sturdiness that left them smooth and without crinkle. Attempting to dogear a corner left her even more confused as she had to apply much more force than paper should require, in order to do so.

“Weird,” she muttered to herself before she began reading the first page.

WISH EATER:

Upon my pages make a wish,

Write the name receive the gift,

A wish that’s wished for you, bladu,

The time the gift wished next comes true.

“Okay, even weirder,” she mumbled, turning the page. On it was a long list split into two columns. On the left side of the page, were names and on the right, it seemed; were wishes.

Jacob H. Lattimore: A million-dollar book idea that’ll help save the world

Lisa Stannis: 12 New Clients for my business

Bethany Thompson: Heal My Mother

Abigail Constanza: $50,000 for me and my friends

Jake M. Jones: A new house for the family

David Ike Turner: Help me to quit using

Rob S. Jenkins: A building for my congregation

Debra Ringold: Let my husband win the lottery

Evelyn’s brow furrowed as she read the last name in the entry.

“Debra Ringold? Why do I know tha—"

“Is it a magic book mommy? The little girl asked, breaking into Evelyn’s thoughts, her tiny voice suddenly serious. “For wishes?”

“Uhh yeah, honey. I mean, no. I mean…Wait, how’d you know it was for wishes!?”

“Umm, I think, daddy told me,” she said, suddenly shy at her mother’s sudden, and from her point of view, excessive attention.

“Qué es esta charla acerca de su tu padre?” Evelyn shouted, a little louder than she intended, causing the little girl to flinch. Evelyn took a breath to calm her frayed nerves, before following up, more softly. “Ya te lo dije, bichito. Papa esta en el cielo—"

“Dad is in heaven. I know, mom.”

“So, what is this talk about your father? And how did he tell you about the book?” Evelyn countered.

“I thiiink. It was a dream, I think.” The little girl shrugged brightly, fully recovered from her mother’s outburst; and clearly ready to get back to more important observations; specifically, the phone that she had somehow wrestled from Evelyn’s pocket when she wasn’t paying attention. Evelyn didn’t press, having a four old, even one as precocious as Josie, had taught her that trying to pry her for any extra details, especially when Peppa Pig was involved, would be about as fruitful as trying to squeeze blood from a stone. Instead, she sat in a semi-stunned silence, fingering the pages of the little black book and staring at the names and wishes. She shook her head. What Josie had said didn’t make any sense, she knew that, was totally sure of that. Right? But what made even less sense than her dead husband visiting their daughter in her dreams, were magical books that granted wishes.

*DING* Now arriving DIXIE and META Drive.

The computerized voice of the bus announcing their stop, broke out over the loudspeaker.

“Come on sweety. Phone,” she said standing, unconsciously sliding the little black book into her pocket as she shuffled off the bus. The Rainbow’s Promise daycare was less than twenty yards from the bus stop. Already late for work Evelyn and Josie quick-stepped to the door.

“Have a good day mijita.”

“Okay, mommy! Te Quiero!”

“You be good for tia Melani, and I’ll see you when I get off, okay?” She said, giving Josie a peck on the check and standing to leave.

“Okay! Mommy?”

“Yes, mi amor?” Evelyn said stopping and turning back around, something in the sound of her daughter’s voice giving her pause.

“Can you make the wish for me?”

“…Huh?”

“When you make the wish with the wishing book!”

“Uh, okay honey. Hurry and go inside”

“Promise!?”

“Yes, yes,” she chuckled. “I promise, now shoo! Go to your class.”

“You’re fired.” Oscar Maldonado, Abuelito, said to the brunette beauty forlornly.

“What?!” Evelyn exclaimed, perplexed.

The old man shook his head sorrowfully. “Lo siento chica, pero we just can’t afford to keep anyone on. The virus, everything is slow. Me and Abuelita are thinking of just closing down until all of this is over.”

“Abuelo—”

“I’m sorry, chica, but there’s nothing I can do.

Evelyn stared at the old man as he hobbled back inside the restaurant, hot tears stinging her eyes. Even after the tinted glass doors closed, Evelyn stood in stunned unbelieving silence.

“What am I supposed to do?” She finally managed to get out, staring at her reflection in the glass.

After her unceremonious firing, Evelyn found herself walking, almost aimlessly, in the midmorning heat. But only almost, since she had lived in the city long enough to know the general direction she should be heading in if she wanted to wind up at home. At first, Evelyn had walked, hurt and embarrassed, to the bus stop. Silent tears ran down the young woman’s face as she sat on the hard metal bench, awaiting the bus that would take her back to her small two-bedroom apartment. In the rapidly rising humidity of the plexiglass bus shelter, she had given herself over to her emotions, the sticky heat plastering her long brown hair to the back of her neck as she dropped her face into her hands.

‘What am I gonna do?’ She thought ruefully. What could she do? ‘Nothing,’ her melancholy mind supplied. With the virus running rampant, stores and restaurants closing left and right, there was little hope of her finding a new job any time soon. On top of that, she didn’t even have a car to get to these nonexistent jobs should any of them deign to call her back. The tears came heavier as she replayed her life up till now. If only she had finished school, if only she hadn’t fellan in love, if only Cal hadn’t died, if only she hadn’t had… She stopped, unable to condemn or blame the birth of Josie for her problems, and it wasn’t like it was Calvin’s fault that he had died, just the fault of some drunk asshole of an off-duty cop, who didn’t take kindly to being told to keep his grubby hands to himself. Maybe, if she hadn’t gone out with him that night, or wore that dress…

“Fuck that,” she stopped herself again from falling into the vortex of self-pity and self-doubt. Besides, no amount of blame was going to bring him back, or overturn a grand jury decision, and blaming herself would only result in her emotionally distancing herself from Josie. She had seen enough Lifetime movies to know that all psycho mothers started off as bitter mothers’ first. She didn’t know how long she sat in her sorrow, but eventually, her grief turned into anger; the transition undoubtedly bolstered by the sweltering heat, and the lackadaisical driving of the city’s bus operators.

Now, however, she was nearly home, neither sad nor angry, just hot and tired. She checked her phone as her beleaguered feet carried her forward, in a browbeaten trundle up the stairs. 12:15. Numbly, she entered the code that allowed her access into her apartment, and after letting herself in, made her way to her bedroom, where she collapsed in a weary heap onto the bed. Knowing the danger of being alone with her thoughts, she grabbed the remote that she’d thrown on the bed earlier that morning, and turned on the television. Just before she changed the channel, the words of the cheery news-anchor froze her finger above the button.

“So, Debra, tell us! Had you had this dream before? Or played these particular set of numbers before Friday's drawing?”

“Noo! Never!” the blonde, sixty-something-year-old woman, drawled in her west Texas accent, her huge smile threatening to unhinge her lower jaw from her plump round face. “It’s gonna sound crazy, but I’d never played the lottery b’fore I’d won! I remember praying on Thursday night, that my husband and I would win the lottery, and then we went to bed. That night, I had the most vivid dream I’d ever had, about playing those numbers. When I woke up and told my husband. And well,” she chortled. “He just ‘bout broke his foot tryna get us to the nearest gas station! And the rest is history!”

“Wow! That is amazing! So, the power of prayer and positive thinking transformed your life literally overnight?”

“Y-Ye-Yes!” Debra Ringold said grinning, and if that grin was a little forced, as if her answer wasn’t entirely truthful. No one was the wiser.

“So, do you have any plans for your new millions?” The jolly anchorwoman asked, but Evelyn was no longer listening.

She had sat up on the bed, her fingers prying at her pocket. Her heart beating fast, and a strange tightness in her chest, as she pulled the little black book free, and flipped to the page of wishes and their makers, quickly running her fingers down the thin parchment until she reached the last entry.

“No way,” she said breathily, trying her best, and failing, to will away the flower of irrational hope that was blooming in the center of her chest. But there it was, in flowing old-lady script.

‘Debra Ringold: I wish for my husband to win the lottery.’

Some of the details didn’t exactly match up, for example, the old lady had said that she had had the dream, not her husband, but to be fair, she’d also said she owed her newfound fortune to the power of prayer and positive thinking.

“Pensamiento positivo mi culo.” Evelyn said, no longer trying to deny herself the hope. A part of her told her that she was crazy, that magic wasn’t real, that little black books didn’t grant wishes, that this was all a symptom of her desperation. Another part, a larger part, didn’t care. She searched about the bed for something to write with, a half manic laugh of joy escaping her lips as she happened upon the green pen her witchy sister had prescribed for these exact situations.

“No point in going half-crazy,” she said, sending herself into another bout of frantic giggles. “Wait till I tell Josie what I did tod…” ‘Josie…’ she paused, thinking of their earlier conversation.

‘Can you make the wish for me?’ Josie’s voice filled her mind’s ear. ‘When you make the wish with the wishing book!’… 'Promise?!’

Josie, who was her everything. For whom she would do anything. Images of her wise-beyond-her-years daughter filled her head. Her daughter, who was the physical embodiment of an infinite love lost. To whom she owed all her happiness. Whom she would always fight for. Josie, whom she wished the world for. With a grin, Evelyn gripped the pen, and added her wish to the bottom of the page.

Jacob H. Lattimore: A million-dollar book idea that’ll help save the world

Lisa Stannis: 12 New Clients for my business

Bethany Thompson: Heal My Mother

Abigail Constanza: $50,000 for me and my friends

Jake M. Jones: A new house for the family

David Ike Turner: Help me to quit using

Rob S. Jenkins: A building for my congregation

Debra Ringold: Let my husband to win the lottery

Josephina Gabriella Dominguez-Harris: 20,000 dollars!!!

With a satisfied sigh, she closed the book, a little let down when the act didn’t send a mysterious magical wind rustling through her bedroom. Setting the little black book on her nightstand, she finally changed the channel, and sat back to relax a while before catching the one clock, and surprising Josie with an early pick up.

Debra Ringold opened the door to her single-story ranch style home, immensely grateful for the cool air conditioning already blasting away, giving her an instant reprieve from the summer heat.

“John!” She called out, setting her keys on the hallway desk and making her way into the den. “John, y’home?”

‘Jooohnnn’sss not here Debra,’ a voice like molted snake skin rubbing together echoed throughout the house.

Startled, she turned screaming in the direction of the voice, another yelp erupting from her lips as she took in the tall gaunt shadow clad figure before her. “W-wha-what… what d-d-do you w-want!?” she stammered, her entire body trembling so violently her heels could chatter divots into the ground.

‘Mheeee?’ the creature asked, lifting an incredibly long arm to point at itself then cocking its head sideways, as if genuinely confused, and considering. Then it grinned hungrily, an impossibly large rictus of sensational malice and avarice. ‘That’sss eeeeeassssy, I want myyyyy duuuuueee!’ The demon flowed forward toward the frightened woman, three more arms springing from its tattered cloak. Debra screamed as the monster’s lowest set arms gripped her tightly around the waist, its sharp claws ripping through her shirt, and piercing into the soft fat of her belly and back, drawing blood. The monster then lifted her into the air, until she was high enough to be eye to eye with the dark demon. Slowly its tattered black cowl receded, revealing its hellacious visage.

“No, no, no, no,” she mewled in desperation, as its other taloned hands cupped her face almost lovingly before its sharp nails began to dig into forehead and the soft places behind her ears. Instinctively, she brought up her hands to grip the wrists of the gigantic creature digging into her face.

“P-P-Please! Please don’t do-AHHH!” she screamed, ripping her hands away as if she’d been burned. Great globules of blood fell from her wounded hands, splattering the thick carpet below. She looked down with panic-stricken eyes to see blood, her blood, running in crimson rivulets down the fiend’s emaciated arms. Her eyes bulged as the creature’s skin seemingly sprang to life, along the entire length of its arms, hundreds of tiny mouths, full of sharp savage teeth began mashing gnawing incessantly. Teeth that had apparently been tearing chunks from her flesh. She watched in horror and disgust as blood red tongues lashed out from in between the chewing chompers in lascivious circles, lapping up her dribbling lifeforce.

‘Yes. Yes. Yes. You read the contract, Debra, and now, the payments due; to start, I think I’ll take your face from you.’ Debra’s screamed turned ragged as the stress caused her vocals cords to snap, her face letting out a sickeningly wet squelch as the Wish Eater’s talons disappeared into the folds of her neck, and it began peeling her face away from her skull.

Evelyn awoke with a start, the braying of her phone yanking her from the depths of an apparently- if the lakebed of dried slobber on the side of her face was any indication- very good nap. The early evening light that streamed through the second story window pricked her eyes, sending an icepick of pain directly into her brain.

“Ahh, shit! Uhm, hello?” she said sleepily, answering the phone. “What?! Are you Sure??” she asked, a sudden surge of adrenalin flooding her brain causing her to bolt up in bed. “Yes? Yes!? Oh my God. I’ll be right there!” She screamed into the phone; all vestiges of fatigue instantly washed away. As she made her mad dash to the door, she checked the time on her phone; 3:07. She’d slept longer than she’s intended, but if she left now, she had enough time to make the 3:15 to the daycare. Tears flowed freely as she made her way down the stairs. She couldn’t believe this was happening, not everything she had been through. ‘Josie.’

Several eternities passed during the fifteen-minute bus ride to the daycare, miraculously, the bus driver wasn’t late or languorous. Still, the steadily building anxiety kept her bouncing on the tips of her toes the entire ride. By the time Evelyn arrived, the bottoms of her feet were throbbing in syncopation with her heartbeat, each step sending sharp spikes of pain up through her soles and into her shins. Despite the pain, as soon as she was off the bus, Evelyn broke into a sprint, dashing to the daycare doors. Flinging them open, she ran inside and stopped. She looked around franticly, squinting her eyes to better take in the entire front room of the daycare, as she searched for Josie.

“Mommy!”

“Josie!” Evelyn exclaimed, as the small girl came racing from one of the back rooms holding a manila folder triumphantly in the air. Evelyn took the few steps to meet her daughter, wrapping her up in a big hug before setting her down and grabbing the orange folder from her hands. As she turned it upside down, two small pieces of paper fell out. Grabbing the larger piece, Evelyn began reading.

Dear Evelyn,

After some consideration, Abuelo and I, have decided to close down the restaurant, and go into retirement. It’s something we’ve been thinking about doing for a little while now, but could never bring ourselves to see it through. But now, with the craziness of the Virus, and all of the election drama, we figured now is as good a time as any. We’re old mija! So, we want to relax for as much time as we’ve got left!

That being said, we understand that this will make things even harder for you and little Josephina. After your husband died, we watched you nearly kill yourself with work in order to continue making a way for you and your daughter. And so, to show our appreciation for all your hard work, and to give you some peace of mind in the trying times ahead, we wanted to give you a little gift.  Love You Always, Abuelita.

P.S. Tell Josie, I’ll be calling to see if she kept the secret!

Evelyn’s shaking hands dropped the letter, tears streamed like rivers down her face blurring her vision as she knelt down to retrieve the second fallen slip of paper. Letting out an audible sob of joy as she saw, written in Abuelita’s elegant handwriting, a check, made out to CASH, in the amount of 20,000 dollars.

“ITS MONEYS!!!” The little girl suddenly shouted, startling her mother. Evelyn now crying uncontrollably looked up smiling, first at her daughter, and then the gathered daycare attendants who were themselves smiling and crying; all of them basking in the ambience of Abuelita’s goodwill.

4 Days Later

“And…done,” Evelyn said triumphantly, pressing ‘enter’ on her computer’s keyboard.

“Done with what, Mom?” Josie asked sweetly.

“Just booked our tickets for the first flight to Japan, once the pandemic is over!” She said with a smile.

“Shu-shushiiii!” Josie exclaimed excitedly, throwing her hands up in celebration and running in figure eights, before latching onto her mother’s arm. “Thank you, mommy, oh thank you!”

Evelyn rolled her eyes at her daughter’s ham acting. “Haha! You’re so extra child, just like your daddy! Did you brush your teeth and use the potty?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Okay, then it’s time for bed!”

“Aww¬—”

“Aww, nothing. I don’t wanna hear it. You’ve got school in the morning.”

“Okaaay.” The little girl held the word out dejectedly, before suddenly brightening “Will you read me a story?!”

Evelyn’s face screwed up into a grimace before she thought better of it. “You know what? I will you read you a story.” She said bopping her daughter lightly on the nose. “Now, go get in the bed, I’ll be there in a sec.

“Yaaay!” Josie screamed, running out of her mom’s room and down the hall to her own.

‘Chiiilllldren, they grow up so faassssst, don’t they?’

Evelyn spun around, the scream she had been about to release, catching in her throat. Fear gripped her heart as she stared at the gangly monstrosity stepping out of her closet. The one-eyed monster stood easily seven and a half feet tall, the top of its greasy black head of shoulder-length hair nearly scraping the ceiling. She watched as it unfurled, what she had at first took to be a ragged and worn black cloak, but was instead row upon row of tattered and torn raven black wings that ran the entire length of its back and even a portion of its legs. It had black writhing skin that seemed to be constantly in motion, like the black and white grains of an old-time television without a signal. Instead of two, it had four elongated arms, each with talon tipped hands. The bottom set of arms ending just above its ankles and the top set ending at the wrist of the bottom set.

“Wha-Who-Who-What What are you?”

The lanky nightmare cocked its head to the side curiously, examining the women intently with its single eye before answering.

‘Ihhh am the Aspiration Devourer, the Hhhope Guzzler, the Wishhh Eaterrrr,’ it grinned toothily, revealing a mouth that spread the entire width of its face. Evelyn’s eyes grew wide as she placed the name.

“What do you want?”

‘Only to meet the beauty who beat my book,’ it said, stepping closer.

Evelyn shrank back, letting out a small gasp when she saw that his writhing black skin was actually thousands of tiny mouths, perpetually chewing and slurping at the air around the creature. “What do you mean?”

‘Upon my pages make a wish, write the name receives the gift, a gift that’s wished for you, bladu. The time—’

“The gift wished next comes true,” the fear-stricken mother finished in rhythm with the creature.

‘Wunthriel Bladu, the thirteenth angel, at your service,’ the creature said giving an exaggerated bow. When Evelyn didn’t move the dark angel continued. ‘You know, I have feasted on the life force of many a gluttonous soul, my due for fulfilling their wish. And while some names in my book only owed a portion of their lives none of them have escaped owing nothing. None that is, until you. I am curious, how did you figure out my riddle?’ The black angel asked, stepping ever closer.

“I-I didn’t,” Evelyn stuttered. “My d-d-dead husband t-told my daughter in a dream.” She said, thinking back to the night they had gotten home from the daycare after depositing Abuelita’s check, when she had asked Josie almost the exact same thing during her bath. In all honesty, Josie’s answer hadn’t revealed much, only that in her dream, Calvin had insisted that when she got the wishing book, she had to make mommy promise to make the wish for her.

At her answer, Wunthriel the Wish Eater, bent forward, craning its sinewy neck until its white bottomless pit of an eye, was staring directly into her face. Too afraid to do anything except breathe, Evelyn sat there under its demonic scrutiny, until with a putrid sigh the gangly angel stood.

‘Hmmm, I couldn’t purr-hapsss purr-ssssuade yhouuu, to tell me the naaaame of your deccceased rrriddddler, could Ihhhh?’ The demon entity preened, absently ruffling its feathers. Evelyn thought on it, fear demanding that she give this damned creature whatever it asked, before finally shaking her head. There was no way in hell she could give up Calvin’s soul to this thing. ‘Ahh well, what it is a fiend to do.’ It said with a huge smirk and four-armed shrug, before turning back toward the closet.

“Wait!” Evelyn called out to the demon not believing her own ears as they registered the sound of her own voice. “How did I beat the riddle?”

'Simple,' the Wish Eater answered without turning around. 'No wish for you, no blood was due.' Then suddenly, it was gone, vanished into thin air. A single floating feather slowly turning into ash, the only evidence that anything had been in the room with her.

“Mommy my storyyyyy,” Josie yelled from room.

“Coming!” Evelyn yelled jumping from the bed, stopping at her bedroom door to look back once a thin smirk on her face. “Thanks, Cal,” she whispered, patting the door frame once before bouncing down the hall to Josie’s room.