The clank of spoons and the soft crunch of cereal greeted Roger as he entered the kitchen the next morning. The bright sunlight was a welcome change from the cold moonlit terror of the night before.
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Roger’s mother, looked up from her crossword puzzle between bites, “First day of the festival, you and Joey have big plans?” His mother was referring to the annual Festival of Wishes. It had been held every year since anyone could remember, in honor of Jeremiah Wish.
Roger poured cereal into a bowl and reached for the milk, “Joey’s out of town. I thought I’d just hang out around the festival, listen to the storytellers.”
The festival attracted the best storytellers from near and far. Roger looked forward to hearing the legend of Jeremiah Wish again. Roger’s father choked on his cereal and muttered something under his breath.
“ Did you say something, dear?” Jeanie asked her husband. James Pine looked up.
James' tired eyes blinked. “I said, Why? They won’t tell you anything you haven’t already read.” Roger’s father didn’t have much use for wishes or festivals, or storytelling for that matter.
“I’m just curious about the fountain. Thought I might ask around, see what people remember about it.” He regretted the words before they even left his mouth but it was too late. Nothing to do now but hunker down and wait for it to blow over.
“Remember? The only thing people need to remember about that stagnant frog pond is that they’re better off to forget!” it wasn’t as bad as he’d expected.
Roger smiled in what he hoped was a disarming fashion, “Yeah, I guess you’re probably right. I just wish…”
His father inflated with rage, stood from his chair and leaned across the table an inch from Roger’s face. “What did you just say?” it came out half growl half whisper.
Roger remembered the sign, the prohibition against wishing and his father’s reaction to it, “I didn’t mean it like that. What I meant to say was it would be nice if…” before he could finish his father cut him off.
“But you didn’t say that, you said…I wish!” His father came around the table and stood behind his chair, “what, what do you wish? Go on Roger, finish it. And you better make it a good one because if you finish that wish in my house it will be the last thing you utter here, do you understand me? I don’t know if your buddy told you, or not, but that little device, right there, on the kitchen counter? Yeah, that is a hotline straight to the mayor’s office, and believe me when I say, they take this very seriously around here.”
James Pine was not a violent man, but something about wishes scared him bad. Roger wondered what it was. What terrible secret could cause a mild mannered, loving father to puff up like a spitting cobra. He wanted to ask. Instead he said, “Yes, sir”, and sat quietly.
Roger watched his father deflate, like a tire with a slow leak. He sat heavily in his chair, “Roger, I’m sorry…it’s just…” James Pine pushed his chair back, picked up his briefcase from the counter, kissed his wife, patted Roger on the head and left for work.
“I’m sorry Dad. It just…slipped out.” Roger said as his father closed the door to the garage behind him. He looked up with tears in his eyes, “I didn’t mean it, Mom. You know I didn’t mean it.”
“Oh, sweety, your father didn’t mean it either. It’s just …some things… change people. Your father wasn’t always afraid like this. I guess being back here just makes it stronger.”
Roger stared into his mother’s face, searching for understanding. Looking for an answer, some clue. “Like what, mom? What does he have to be afraid of?”
His mother sighed heavily, “I wish I could explain it, someday when…” she couldn’t finish it. She knew it wasn’t enough.
Roger decided at that exact moment that he would trust his mother. He was going to tell her everything.
He went to the kitchen cabinet, pulled out a large pan and turned it upside down over the round cylindrical device on the kitchen counter. Joey had told him this was the only way to prevent it from recording or responding. It was similar to something he called a “faraday” cage.
“Mom, I think you’d better sit down.” He took a deep breath and continued, “I don’t know what’s going on in this town but that fountain is not gone, and I can prove it. Old man Winters told Joey bishop that everybody thought the old fountain was buried when they built the court house.
He said the fountain they buried wasn’t The Wish Fountain at all. He said the real fountain was somewhere else, in a place no one remembers. Mom, Joey said Mr. Winters got real serious when he told him. He said he couldn’t die without someone knowing. Mom, he must have been telling the truth, because he died the next day. And there’s something else.”
Roger paused for effect, “I know it’s real, and I know it works because I saw it myself.”
His mother sat, stunned, “How is that possible?”
Roger paused for effect. “I saw it in my dream. Remember? Well Joey showed me a picture of the fountain, it was the same! Don’t you think that’s weird?”
Jeanie Pine looked stunned, or maybe she was…trying not to laugh? “Oh, Roger, honey, for a minute I thought you were serious!”
Roger started to protest. Then it occurred to him that if his mother didn’t believe him, he might be better off with her believing it was all a joke. He laughed. “You should have seen your face.”
“Roger, with an imagination like that, you might be a storyteller yourself someday.” She sat quietly chuckling to herself, “Old man Winters, that was a nice touch. It sounds like something a dying man might say.”
“Yeah it does, right? That’s what made me think of it.” Roger smiled.
His mother hugged him, “Thanks, I needed that after this morning.”