Charm and Punishment
As you are reading this I am all sweaty, disgusting, hot and on mimimum sleep. That’s right! While you read this I will be at camp! Anyways… this is going to seem like it’s really long. But it is a five minute short story I am entering into a contest. Through the magic of technology this will appear while I am miles away from cell service.
I had to rewrite a fairy tale! My love of fairy tales being what it is, I was totally up for this challenge! I decided to rewrite Aladdin. For starters Aladdin, becomes Miss Adalyn… the rest you can read for yourself! 🙂 The winner get’s published in a magazine and a free Kindle Fire! How cool is that?!
Just thought you might be in need of a smile today, and I hope I can help you out! Enjoy!
PS. Please pray I’m still alive, haven’t broken any bones, or broken any kids! Love ya!
One very well executed senior prank, and what was I doing? I got stuck sorting through the basement of terror for the next two weeks. Only me! Everyone else dodged the bullet somehow.
Oh yeah, I remember. My “friends” sold me out to the principal.
The crypt’s only “school board approved” purpose was storage for several decades’ worth of lost and found items. It was also served as the school’s hot spot make-out zone, and a torture chamber, namely for me. It was either this, or no walking the stage at graduation. I’m pretty sure it’s child abuse to have me down here against my will. There’s probably mold down here, I gasp, or poisonous spiders.
At my funeral they’ll realize how cruel-and-unusual-punishment-y this was. But by then it’ll be too late.
All we did was set the principle’s ’66 Mustang GT Convertible on the roof… He had a total meltdown, like try-to-call-the-coast-guard-to-save-his-“baby” meltdown. Slight over reaction if you ask me.
Note that I said “we”. That’s because there were four of us. After months of planning, weeks of drills, hundreds of dollars, and a perfect execution, they ruin the moment and sell me out so they don’t get ‘suspended’. What a bunch of pansies. I grudgingly brought myself back to the task at hand and picked up an old retainer with some form of food still attached to it. I threw it across the room, resisting the urge to scream. I am in dire need of new friends, and gloves.
I decided to tackle the boxes from last year first and leave the 1970’s in their place, buried deep in the basement, hidden among rolls of orange shag carpeting and boxes of bell bottom jeans.
I spun around the room, looking but seeing no one. Great, 20 minutes down here, and I’m already starting to lose it.
I shook my head and decided to open the box marked from last year. The thin water damaged cardboard was practically dissolving into the floor. I start to reach my hand in, using the screen on my phone as a pathetic flashlight. Dear God, may all rats, mice, spiders, and anything else that moves or has teeth please disappear from this box, never to return. Amen.
I closed my eyes, and began to expose the contents of the box. A retainer, no two retainers… Three library books. One pink sparkly converse shoe. Ew, one moldy sock. A pocket knife. And… ooh, what’s this? A cell phone!
I picked it up, and rubbed the dust off the screen. It flickered to life. Now that’s what I call battery life, geez. I examined the phone. I’m halfway tempted to see what kind of dirt –metaphoric dirt—it contains.
A strange woman popped up on the screen, wearing a total punk outfit. Blue hair, black miniskirt, and fishnets included. Strange.
“Adalyn! Finally!” I dropped the phone. It said my name. It moved. The phone. Spoke my name.
“Stop being ridiculous! Pick me up this instant,” she (it?) commanded, voice muffled as the speaker was now lying against the concrete floor. I don’t really want to, but I kind of do, who am I kidding? Of course I want to. I pick up the phone and turn the screen to face me.
“Thank you! Didn’t you hear me call you?”
“What is this? Is this a joke?” I am talking to a cellphone, ‘to’ not ‘on’, yep I’m losing it. “Am I on TV?”
“Shut up, and let me give my spiel.” I nodded my head in compliance, she gave me an annoyed half smile and continued in a completely uninterested monotone.
“Hello Adalyn, I’m Trixie. I’m a genie. I’m here to make your life amazing, your wildest dreams a reality, and ultimately,” she rolled her eyes and glared at me with distaste, “to make you smile.” The over-rehearsed script obviously engrained into her mind, much to her disdain.
“Where are the hidden cameras? Am I gonna meet Ashton?” I asked a little too excitedly, scanning the room quickly.
“No, not unless you wish it!” she shouted. “Now pay attention to the rules.”
I rolled my eyes, rules.
“Humans almost never get anything right when telling people about supernatural beings, but they somehow managed to get one detail right. Three wish limit, no exceptions, no extra wish wishes. Three. Oh, and absolutely no raising people from the dead. That’s just gross.” She shuddered at a bad memory.
“No seriously, is Ashton here?”
“No!” She shouted so loud it hurt my ears, “You senseless human! Do you not understand? I’m magical! Charmed! Enchanted!”
“Don’t genies, like, come in lamps? Lamps buried deep in caves?”
“Our homes change with the times, duh.” She rolled her eyes. “The lamp was much roomier than these preposterous ‘smart phones’,” she said with disgust.
I looked at her with furrowed brows, and she sighed dramatically before crossing her arms over her chest and quickly bobbing her head once.
We were soon floating up to the ceiling!
“Put me down!” I screamed as the ground became smaller, and the mess in the basement seemed to grow. The room began to spin wildly, or was it just me? Shag carpet, retainers and hundreds of boxes flew past in a blur. “Okay. I believe you’re real! Put me down!”
“You’re not exactly valedictorian, are you? Didn’t think so.” After insulting me, she became an actual little five inch tall person standing on my phone screen. “Now let’s make this snappy, three wishes. I have a wish quota to fill before I get some vacation time, and Atlantis is calling my name.”
“You mean I have to decide now? But that wasn’t in the rules!”
“You were actually listening?” She asked, completely irritated.
She stomped her foot like a irate five year-old.
“Why? It’s not like you don’t have plenty of time.”
She had the best death glare I’ve ever seen, and started to open her mouth.
“Your manners are a little rusty, you really need to get out more,” I smirked and she growled, literally.
“Okay,” I put my hands up in surrender. “I’ll try and decide on what to wish for.”
Ummm… Panic began to set in. Maybe I should be responsible and wish for like world peace or something. Nah, who am I, Gracie Lu Freebush? Trixie began to tap her foot impatiently and clench her jaw.
“I can’t choose this quickly!” I yelled, stress building.
“One night, I’ll give you one night to dream, imagine, and decide on your final wishes. After 24 hours, I start to get testy.”
“24 hours? You started to get testy -” I stopped. One look at her face told me this wasn’t a welcome conversation.
I tried again, “24 hours sounds lovely.”
“Well, have fun with this,” she glanced around the room, and her eyes lit up. “Let me help you out with the 70s.”
With an impish grin and a flick of her head, all the 70’s boxes opened and began to organize themselves, Hot Stuff by Donna Summers played in the background. The disco ball even hung itself on the ceiling.
I almost got maimed by a flying afro pick. I dodged it Matrix-style and she smiled.
Three wishes. It was my turn to give an impish grin. This punishment might not be so bad after all, might even be a little fun.