The Lantern of Wishes

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 The lantern hit the ground with a soft thud, its paper surface crinkling. The wish, scrawled hastily in ink, demanded a reunion with a long-lost, bonkers mad sister named Lila. I scoffed, for me skepticism overrode sentiment. Family ties that snapped years ago, too fragile to endure. Why would I?


Doubt lingered, but obligation somehow pressed. Bloody conscience - who needs one? Inquiries led to rumours of Lila's seclusion in the distant Whispering Woods. Good riddance, I thought, but, still, something tugged at my mind. I like to think I’ve a flinty heart, but sometimes . . . The journey was arduous, too hard for me on my own. A guide, a hooded figure, hesitated but accepted the thankless task. Grumpy sod.


Lila's dwelling emerged amidst the shadows, a modest cottage, windows dimly lit. Actually, I think it would qualify as a hovel, and therefore, under the legal definition (See Malicious Damage Act 1861, Para. 12) could not safely be riotously demolished. A soft knock on the door instead, followed by the shuffle of hesitant feet. The door creaked open, revealing a face worn by time and hardship. Recognition flickered, reluctant smiles mirroring years of absence.


Speech stumbled in awkward attempts to bridge gaps, but the warmth of shared history smouldered beneath the surface. Lila's eyes, brimming with the weight of untold stories, conveyed her loneliness.


The lantern fulfilled its task, re-tethering fractured kin. Yet, amidst rekindled ties, shadows lingered. Life's complexities, untamed and unyielding, would still win out in the end.




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