Fulfillment Office
Written for Tidbits under the theme ‘Wishes’.
Also available in audio on the podcast Story Time with Darcie: Episode 7.
by Darcie T. Kelly
Prayers, wishes, dreams, even letters to Santa arrive at the Fulfillment Office as wisps of mist. In recent years, the room has been murky and stifling under the weight of selfish, entitled demands. I remember when prayers were translucent, pastel, and flavoured the air with sweetness. I can’t recall the last wisp that glinted the golden pecan pie taste of pure gratitude. With a frustrated glance at the dark clouds of twenty-first century ‘prayers’, I clear the air, marking each ugly desire Unfulfilled Return so the wishers themselves suffer under the fetid weight.
Knowing the next wishes will arrive too soon I close my eyes and breath deep, taking in the freedom of this moment, unburdened of humanity’s thankless demands. Unexpectedly, the air takes on a shimmer, a tickle, the innocent sweetness of cotton candy. As I approach a newly arrived iridescent wisp, a dung cloud invades the room. I send it via Unfulfilled Return without a second glance and block the Incoming portal so I can appreciate this wish, bask in its beauty and promise.
I carefully unfurl the wisp and enter Mila’s birthday wish. As she blows out the flame on a waxen number five, silent words forms. Hi Birthday Fairy! Thank you so much for the train set last year. I thanked Daddy too, but I know it was really you! Daddy isn’t here today. He’s in the hospital. I try to be brave, but is it OK to wish he comes home safe?
Finally, a worthy wish!
With reverence for its delicate nature, I examine Mila’s wish, searching out the threads that tie hers to others’. I track down five well-wishes tainted with her friends’ greed. A blurred intention from her mother wavering between sending Mila a perfect birthday and sending everyone away. A couple dozen hopes that taste of bitter pity. Tirelessly, I remove each infecting filament, mark the attached wisp Unfulfilled Return, and watch as Mila’s wish strengthens.
At length, I find the core of this precious birthday wish. A strong fiber spun from a sunbeam leads to a father’s love. His longing to be near her, hug her, laugh with her. I dance along that sunbeam, unfolding this wish-within-a-wish to find still more threads. Discarding those that whine with impatience, resentment, jealousy, and ill-will, I spy a golden string attached to a surgeon’s prayer. May my hands remain steady, the patient find strength, and the procedure be successful. This thread connects directly to the Fates. With it, I can weave a new ending.
Taking my time, I braid the three. Mila’s wish is loving and pure. Her father’s desire is strong and anchored. The surgeon’s prayer is selfless and earnest. Together they create a tapestry of such beauty I weep tears of silver and gold. I weave those in as well, adding luster to a future made of wishes.