1: A wish granted
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I have rewritten most of the earlier chapters, so please note that most comments made before August 2020 are probably outdated.
Thanks to Zea for helping me with the editing.

 

Since I can remember, my life was dull and boring. I developed a mild depression early on. At the time I could handle it pretty well, I was only eight after all and didn't know what was happening. I was sure with time these feelings would disappear but when puberty happened, it got worse.

My father wasn't the understanding type which didn't help matters at all. I don't remember him being affectionate or parent to me at all. He was just there, judging everything I did. There are some blurry memories of him getting angry at me for making the wrong friends, behaving the wrong way. I always have to think about one memory in particular. It was kindergarten and I hurt myself while playing with my friends. My father had to be called and when he arrived he made a scene about me needing to man up, stop crying. When we arrived in the security of our won four walls he gave me  a good telling off about how I needed stop my stupid dressing up games, I should look for other friends that wouldn’t “corrupt” my mind. That's how I remember it at least.

I don't know why he got so angry or what I did wrong. What I know is that I stopped playing with my friends after that, I didn't want my father to get mad after all. It was also around the time my depression started, even if I didn't know it back then.

From that day on I would keep to myself and just watch as the others played dress up or playing house. It was hard in the beginning. I got jealous almost every day, I wanted nothing more than to play with them again but my father was against it after all.

The more I kept to myself, the more I drifted apart. Now it wasn't so bad in kindergarten but once I hit middle school, I became the target for bullying. Might not come as much of a surprise since isolating yourself and anti-social behaviour is a pretty great way to draw a big red target onto your back.

I've learned to deal with them since and most things people say nowadays don't bother me. I got quite good at ignoring other people’s comments. What did hurt however, was when they started talking about my mother.

I never knew her. My father was a single parent and he never spoke of her. I tried to start a conversation about it multiple times but he always changed topic. I wasn't able to get even a small bit of information out of him, and if I was too demanding he would tell me to go back to my room.

Once puberty hit, thing got worse and worse after that. Not only made it my depression worse, but also my father’s attitude towards me. I often got the feeling he was hiding things from me, but I had no proof and this was all speculation. He would often tell me how much he was looking forward to me finally growing up to become a real man.

He didn't miss a single opportunity to tell what recent changes I underwent. “You're finally growing a beard, proud of you son”, “I've noticed your shoulder got wider, the ladies will love it”, “Oh, your voice is finally cracking aren't you excited?”

Those were just a few I could think of out of the top of my head. Maybe it was just his way of trying to make me feel better. And even if his intentions were good, it never had the desired effect; I just felt worse after.

For me to cry without good reason wasn't a rare occurrence at first. A wave of unidentifiable emotions hit me and I had to cry. Hiding this from my father wasn't the easiest, our walls were thin after all. If he did find me crying, yelling would ensue. “You have to be in control of your emotions.”, “Men don't cry.”, “I didn't raise you to be a fucking girl.” Especially the last one was a favourite of his. Any sign of weakness was to be punished. Men don't cry after all, men have to be leaders, and I was to be one after all. Making me ashamed of myself for showing emotions was something he was exponentially good at.

At this times I really wish I had a mother like all the other kids. Someone who would care for me. Someone I could talk to. Tell them about my problems. But that wasn't my reality. And no matter how much I wished for a miracle to happen, it never did.

I learned to deal with these feeling a long time ago. Maybe not in the healthiest way, bit it was a way nonetheless. I attributed my inability to get enjoyment out of most things as a result of me being unable to socialise properly. That was the most logical explanation after all. It wasn't that there wasn’t anything that could give me at least a little bit of joy. I soon found out that I really liked fantasy. I felt so drawn to it that I read novel after novel after novel. Something about a world with magic, where everything was possible just spoke to me.

When I finished one I got this crushing feeling of emptiness. I had to pick up a new one right after or reality would set in again. Reality was a thing I didn't like in the least. I do know I'm strange that way and maybe that was also one of the reasons I lacked friends, but my obsession with fantasy was so overwhelming that I was sure I should have been born in one. Or at least any world with magic, really. But I had to accept that fact that it was only fiction after all, and my escapism was going way too far.

Until recently my life didn't change much. I was still obsessed with books, didn’t have many friends and couldn't live up to the expectations my father had for me. Then, about six months ago he had a work accident.

Everything happened so fast after that. I wasn't allowed to visit my father in the hospital. Calling his work didn't help, they told me there was no “Jared Sypha” working for them. Trying to reach him via phone didn't work either and not a day after I was brought to my Aunt Ida.

The whole affair seemed so suspicious to me. I remember with certainty his work calling me to tell me about his accident. So why wouldn't they have any records of him? The more I thought about it, the more I worried it was my fault. I was sure he was sick of me not being the son he always imagined me to be, unable of becoming the great man he wanted to make me.

After moving in with my Aunt, my life did change quite a bit. I was still depressed and felt like I never belonged anywhere but Ida was very caring. She never yelled at me or made me feel bad for not being man enough. I could talk to her about my problems and she listened, it was a nice change of pace.

Another thing I really loved about her were the stories she told me about my mother. They sounded just as amazing as some of the books I've read. Of course I know they were all fictional. There was no way that my mother was an arch mage, summoning spirits, and shaping young people into capable mages. But these were nice stories nonetheless and every time Ida told me another one of her antics I felt a little bit closer to her.

I also had to stop myself often from thinking too much about them. No matter how close I felt, it was clear what they indicated. Meeting her was a non-existent dream, and she wasn't on this planet anymore. Suppressing the urge to cry every time I thought about it was hard, and while I knew the truth, I still only had one wish every year. Even if it was just in my dreams, that would be enough.

And so I laid on my bed an wished for the impossible again, when a knock on my door brought me back to reality. “Come in.”

Ida stepped in and made herself comfortable in my desk chair. “So I was thinking, since tomorrow is your birthday, maybe we could do something special?”

“Special?”

“You know, exploring the town a bit. Getting to know some of the locals.”

“Doesn't sound interesting, sorry.” It was the depression speaking out of me. Ida was right, since I have moved in all I did was go to school and come home again. Getting to know the small town and the people living here wasn't a bad idea at all but I lacked the motivation for it. And the prospect of meeting new people also didn't sit well with me.

“There's also someone I want you to meet. Actually I would have liked to introduce you to her a lot sooner.” she said as she put a finger to her lip and looking up at the ceiling.

Was she trying to set me up with some girl again like my father did so many times? I could do without these things forced onto me and my expression showed as much.

“Humour me?” she said with this damned pleading look. After all this time she was so nice to me and I knew she only did it for my well-being, so I reluctantly agreed.

“Great, I will wake you at midnight.” she said as she left and closed the door behind her. Midnight was the perfect time I wanted to get up at. Oh well, I already agreed, there was no turning back now. I guess one night without sleep wouldn't kill me.

Waking up at such an ungodly hour was harder than I expected. I wanted nothing more than closing my eyes again and fall back into my comfy pillow.

I managed to dress myself and meet Ida eagerly awaiting my arrival in the kitchen. She was a morning person, yes, but to think that she could be so full of energy at this time of day...weird.

Pulling out one of my few winter jackets, we made our way to the central park. Not one soul greeted us on our way and the park itself was just as deserted.

“So... why are we here?”

Ida made sure we were alone. After she was sure, she snipped her fingers. “This is why” she said as before us a small vortex started to appear. I took a step back unsure of what I should expect.

 “Just take my hand, nothing bad will happen.”

I did and we stepped through the vortex. It spit us out on the other end. The first thing to assault my mind was the brightness. My eyes had already settled on the darkness of night and now, wherever the vortex brought us, it was already brightest daylight.

It took some time adjusting to the difference again but once I did I noticed we were in a park again. The trees and plant looked different, I have never seen plants like this before. I tried getting closer to one, when I touched it, it burst into small flames.

“Wow.”

“Amazing isn't it? That's a phoenix flower. If you touch it, it burst in flames. At midnight the ash rises up into two new flowers again.”

This was crazy. I soon came to the conclusion that this was a dream. Maybe I had overslept, or Ida wasn't able to wake me, or maybe, just maybe by some miracle my wish was granted and I got the chance to meet my mother for once. Even if all this was just a construct my mind crafted out of all the amazing stories Ida told me, if it meant I could met my mother for once, I wasn't gonna complain.

Ida led me around the place a bit and I asked her some more question about the flora. We made our way to a small café and Ida told me to take a seat. After ordering a coffee for both of us, Ida started to get nervous.

“She should already be here. It's so typical for her to be late.”

“Who are we waiting for?”

I had a feeling I knew. To this point the dream was so realistic, there was no doubt in my mind I would meet my mother sooner or later. Shortly after our drinks arrived, a feminine voice rang from behind. “Sorry I'm late. Had to do some extra work Olaf gave me.”

Was this her? I wasted no time, leaped of my seat and turned around. Before me stood a woman a head taller than me, with long green hair that she wore down. She was dressed in casual clothes,  jeans, a blouse and a light jacket. Looking up at her I saw the similarity, she looked exactly like Ida had described her, forest green hair, matching eyes and soft welcoming face.

The way she looked at me was full of disbelief and it was obvious she had to hold back tears.

“Mom?” I was sure she was it, she had to be, but better to be safe than sorry.

She didn't say a word, instead she opted to pull me into a bone crushing hug. This dream was so  damn realistic, too realistic. I could feel the warmth that was radiating off her, and wanted this hug to never end. And I may have started crying just like she did.

“Ida you did it, I can never thank you enough. I thought I would never meet my child again.” The sorrow in her voice left no doubt about how much she cared for me. I had to remind myself multiple times that this a dream, it wasn't real and everything that happened was just my idealisation.

After breaking the hug, she sat herself next to me, ordered her own drink and we started chatting. It was mostly me asking question about all the fairy tales Ida told me. She recounted them in her words, adding her own flavour to it and even told me some details Ida left out. It was amazing what the mind could come up with.

We continued talking until sunset when my mother retuned to a more serious demeanour.

“I think it's time I gave you this” - she rummaged around her purse for a bit before pulling out an empty envelope - “please read it and think about it.” When I tried to grab the envelope, she pulled it back for a second, “This is not a light decision to make, please consider carefully and take your time.” she said and let go of it.

Once in my hands, an ornament appeared with the inscription To Elinora. I opened the envelope and started reading. At first the letter was blank but soon words started to appear one after another.

To Elinora,

I know this comes as a surprise, maybe a shock even. Under the circumstances you grew up, you never knew your mother, your father wasn't there for you and the world you lived in was one you never belonged to. Your true nature was hidden. You got punished for expressing thoughts you never understood and was forced to live a lie. But there is a place where you belong, a place that can help you discover your true self. The journey won't be easy but your mother and many others will help you along the way, guiding you to becoming the sorceress you were always meant to be.

 

It is your decision to make.

 

- Your Soul 

I laid the letter on the table and looked back at mom and Ida again. “I don't think I understand it. What does this letter mean?”

 

Ida took a long breath before explaining the letter to me. “It's a personalised letter. There's no content in it until the one who is supposed to get them touches it.”

“So it's a magic letter? But what about the content?”

Now my mom chimed in, “The content is different for everyone. It's written by your soul, your subconscious if you will. Revealing secrets, dreams and fears that are locked deep inside you. Offering you a way inside a life that was withheld to you. But it is your decision to accept it or not.”

I looked back down at the letter, reading it once again. My soul wrote that? In this moment I forgot this was all only a dream. If it meant I could be with my mom again I would accept anything. I pressed the letter close to my heart and silently wished for this dream to never end, for the words to become true and for me to never be without her again.

This dream was really getting to me, everything felt so incredibly real. And because of that, saying goodbye was harder than I had ever imagined.

“I understand that it's selfish for me to say but I do hope to see you again.” There was short pause before she continued , “I do understand if you don't wish to.”

We hugged one last time and Ida and I were back on our way home. Ida tried to make some small talk but wasn't in the mood for it. Going home meant I was close to waking up. Back at the other side of the portal it wasn't as dark anymore. The sun would soon rise and by that time I would be awake again, mourning the loss of this wonderful dream.

I climbed inside my bed and made peace with the fact that I would probably never experience a dream like that again. At least my wish was granted.

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