Wish-Granter

Here is a story I came up with for my French class... The french part follows in next post.

As I looked up into the sky and looked for my familiar star, a wish forms in my mind.

“I wish I could go to a magical ball, be in the most beautiful ball gown, and find my prince charming to live happily ever after.”

Compared to all my other wishes this was selfish and whimsical, but it was still heartfelt.

Suddenly, my wishing star blares and a bright light falls towards me. Instead of running, I only shield my eyes. If the world ends, apparently, I’ll just stand still for it. There really is nowhere to run, but as the light fades and no pain follows, I slowly lower my hand.

A young man, not much older than me, stood in front of me. Even in the night, I see the bluest eyes as bright as a warm lagoon. They even shine like the stars. I notice his dark hair that could be black that was just long enough to be windswept. He is taller than me by a few inches that if he was any closer I would be looking up at those eyes. Then I see everything else. A medium body type, but obviously some muscle under the black polo shirt and dark skinny jeans. This is the man from my dreams.

“You can’t be my fairy godmother?” I blurt out.

He cringes. “I like to say I’m your wish-granter.”

“So a genie?” I have to be dreaming again.

He smiles. “Did I look like I came out of a lamp?”

I open my mouth to answer and possibly ask questions but he holds up his hand to stop me.

“We don’t have much time. I’m here to grant your latest wish,” he declares.

“What? Why this wish?” This wish was hardly the one that I would want granted. I hate balls. I just wanted the Prince Charming and the dream of happily ever after that came with a ball.

He shrugs. “It was the easiest to grant”

“Great. I have the lazy wish-granter.” He glares at me. Normally, I would have felt scared by that but I was feeling too flustered by his appearance. I laugh. That made him glare harder.

“Do you want this wish or not?” He growls.

Again I open my mouth to answer but he stops me again.

“It’s too late,” he declares and I sigh. Then with a few hand movements and a few words, I was standing outside in the most stunning burgundy ball gown that fit me perfectly. The satin slippers also fit like a glove.

“What, no glass slippers?” I sarcastically ask.

“This isn’t Cinderella,” he snarls.

I really am good at getting him angry. I don’t know why I am saying all these things.

“Faites Attention,” he warns. “The magic is only temporary.”

“So this is like Cinderella,” I shoot back.

I receive another glare for my statement and a hand motion that has me instantly transported. Any questions for him or directions from him are lost now as I stand outside a mansion. It is obvious that a party was going on inside. I climb the steps. The doorman opens the door. I’m surprised he doesn’t ask for an invitation or my name. He just guides me to the ballroom. Another man opens these doors for me. I take a breath and step inside. I stop. Everyone turns to look at me. I carefully step down the few steps and look to the left. A mirror is there. I hardly recognize myself for I am radiant. My brunette hair is stylishly put up and shone. My skin was clear of imperfections. My lips were glossy. My eyes were bright with only eye-liner and mascara. The gown looked better in the bright light of the ballroom.

I turn back to face the people and standing close to me was the wish-granter. He had changed into a black tux with a burgundy handkerchief in the pocket. I notice first that his hair was not black but a dark brown. His stunning eyes were fixed on me.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

“To grant the second half of your wish,” he boldly states. “I’m your Prince Charming.”

Merde.