magic object

I was scuba diving off Saint Kitts when I saw an old man with a green beard down on the bottom. He was in the grip of an octopus, if tentacles grip. In the grips of the octopus, as at lease six tentacles were involved.

I freed the man by sorting out the tentacles in much the same way you untie a granny knot.

Thank you, he said, for he could talk clearly underwater. As a reward, I give you that magic anchor over there.

He pointed to a sunken ship with its anchor half out of the sand and mud of the ocean floor.

Make wishes while touching it and they will come true.

Thanks, I said, finding that I could take out my mouthpiece and also talk clearly, for the purposes of this narrative. Thanks, but I have to come down to this spot every time I want to make a wish?

Yes, or you could use your damned head.

So I swam over and touched the thing and thought, I wish you were in my backyard.

For this I caught holy hell from my wife when I got home. The thing landed on the kids’ swing set. Fortunately it was unoccupied at the time.

This monster must weigh tons, I said. I won’t be carrying it around like a charm on a bracelet.

I’ve told you already to stay away from my jewelry, my wife said. And my clothes as well. Particularly the dainties.

I rubbed the anchor like a seaweedy lamp.

I just wish it were a lot smaller, I said, and it vanished.

I didn’t mean that as a literal wish,  I said.

It’s like how you’re always accidentily turning on Google by talking around it, said my wife.

I got down on my knees.

It must be really, really small, I said. Like the size of an atom or something. I’ll never find it.

Your son lost the magnifying glass in the woods, my wife said.

Now suddenly he’s my son, I said.

 

For Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie: Tale Weaver

 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: