Wonder (flash fiction contest)

The line was unbelievably long. The people waiting had all sorts of receptacles with them – big lumpy bags, little round pouches, stiff briefcases, swelling purses, flat envelopes, overflowing boxes, tipsy buckets, colorful portfolios, bulging pockets, and cupped hands. She wondered what other people were asking for and what they had to offer, but didn’t want to be pulled out of line for looking interested. They were very strict about that. The last time she was here she saw half a dozen people get yanked and dragged out the door. But she couldn’t look at them either…same deal. You look at the ground or your hands or the back of the person in front of you if you know what’s good for you. Otherwise you disappear for a few days and return unable to remember exactly what happened, but your body and dreams are haunted by dark shadows for a long while after.

After two agonizingly slow hours, there were only three people ahead of her. Now it was impossible not to hear what they were asking for unless you hummed really loud in your head or focused on the giant rattling fans sucking the stale air from the room. She could hear them talking about money and, by the sounds of it, the deal wasn’t happening.

Soon she was only one person away from public humiliation and possible rejection. Her stomach began to clench.

“But the paper isn’t white enough,” the man standing at the window was saying.

The worker looked up from his scribbling and sighed. “What do you have to trade?”

The man dug in his pants pocket and pulled out a clenched fist. He stuck it beneath the bars, but she couldn’t see what it held.

The worker opened a squeaky drawer and dropped the object in. It sounded squishy. “Good enough.”

The man turned ninety degrees on his heel and walked through the open door. His ridiculous request made her feel a little more relaxed. She wondered if he was a dunderhead. Who wastes their potentially only opportunity on something like that?

Her thoughts were stopped dead when the bar in front of her slammed down. A slight shudder in her jacket pocket helped her take the first step. She forced herself to draw a deep breath and walked the long ten paces to the window. The worker looked up with tired eyes the color of weak coffee.

“Yeah?” he asked.

She was about to speak when she noticed the papers in front of him. Was it her imagination or did they look whiter than paper usually looked?

“Well?” His breath smelled of very old cheese.

“I’d like an orgasm, please.” Her voice was but a whispy croak.

The worker was not having a good day but managed a smirk. He was going to have some fun with this one. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t catch that. Could you speak up?”

She cleared her throat and felt the blood rise in her cheeks. “An orgasm. Please.”

She could hear sniggering behind her, but dared not turn around. Even the guards standing stiffly around the perimeter of the room leaned in.

“Could you be more specific?” he asked, thoroughly enjoying her discomfort.

She felt movement in her jacket pocket again and was grateful for this one last burst of courage it gifted her. She coolly looked into his eyes. “Earth-shatterers. For the rest of forever.”

He raised his eyebrows and blanched at her gall. “Whattaya got?”

She reached in her pocket, withdrew her hand and showed it to him. The kidney-shaped stone glowed violet and cast a faint blush on the grey walls and ceiling and on the faces of the onlookers. A gasp rose from the crowd.

She smiled as she remembered when her grandmother gave her the Stone. She was young and still embraced an innocent belief in the Stone (and Santa Claus)…so it didn’t surprise her to see it aflame in her gran’s hand.

“Do you know what this is?” her grandmother had asked.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“This is very special, my sweet girl. It will help you when you really need it and will be your companion until one day when it’ll be time to pass it on,” her grandmother told her.

“Can I ask it for anything? And how will I know when I’m done with it?”

“You’ll know what’s right and when it’s time, honey. Just like I know now,” her gran replied and placed the warm stone on her cool palm.

Now she looked at it in her adult palm and was sure that the time had come.

The worker’s eyes went wide. “Is that a…?” His voice trailed off.

She nodded.

“Where did you get it?” He couldn’t take his eyes off the Stone and the swirling storm beneath its glossy shell.

“Does it matter?”

He shook his head and put out his hand.

She gave the stone one last squeeze, thanking it, then dropped it into his hand. She could see that his mind was racing as he held it.

Should he put it in the drawer with the rest of the offerings or slip it into his pocket and tell them that it was a fake? That the so-called “Stone of Wonder” was just an urban myth and why didn’t they all grow up? But he couldn’t take the chance. People’s families disappeared for lesser offenses than this. He gazed at it longingly as he let it fall into the drawer.

She felt a twinge of grief. Afterall, the Stone had been with her for most of her life, but hopefully it would be a fair trade. As she walked towards the door, she looked up and saw a tall, dark, good-looking guard smiling and holding the door open for her. It wasn’t a creepy or slimy smile, but a genuine one. She felt her skin bloom.

Yeah, I think it’ll be a fair trade, she thought as the guard followed her down the hall.

998 words