By all storytelling standards, it should have been a dark and stormy night. It should have been a terribly loud, sad and angry sky that raged overhead, but it was sunny and it was daytime. No one could have guessed the tragedy that was happening underneath it. It was the most terrible day that Vera had ever had in her life. Her now ex had suddenly left her and moved far away with no warning, her father had died in the hospital shortly after, and in the throes of grief, Vera's mother had blamed her. Earlier, she had forgotten her bag on the bus, containing her wallet, her keys, her computer and her phone. She knew that the first thing to do was probably to phone the bus company in hopes that some kind soul had brought her bag to lost and found… But she didn’t have the strength for that. This awful day had beaten her down, drained her of all energy and strength, and as if that wasn’t enough, she was now being told by some police that she couldn’t remain here slumped on the ground, crushed under the weight of devastating tragedy, because the park was closing. After having physically carried this empty husk of a person to the edge of the park, the policemen locked the park gates and disappeared into the crowd.
The crowd – that heartless amorphous entity that would roam the streets day after day had never seemed so cold before. Vera used to relish in the asocial nature of the city crowds, as it afforded her peace and relative quiet on her daily commutes, but the social system that treated normal people with respectable apathy treated those in need with disgust. It was as if the people of the city blamed her for her moment of weakness, as if the mere act of existing in noticeable distress was an immoral assault of guilt upon the rest of the world.
I guess that’s how it works. She thought, Being noticeable makes you one of two things: a passing novelty or a crime against civilised society, depending entirely on whether or not people like what they see, on whether or not you were too different to be acceptable.
Apparently having a face full of tears mixed with mascara and your very soul quietly wailing in agony was too different for these people.
By the time the sky was starting to darken, Vera had managed to curl up, leaning on the side of a bench, having lacked the strength to actually get up onto the bench. This was better, because being out of the way of everyone and half-behind something kept most people from leering at you as they walked by.
A couple of hours later, the early autumn chill had set in to such a degree that it seemed to flip a switch in Vera, kicking some sort of survival instinct into gear, and she found herself stumbling meekly towards home.
With her keys presumably in some bus depot somewhere, Vera ended up sleeping on her neighbour’s deck furniture, as it gave at least a flimsy roof overhead, some distance between her and the cold ground, as well as some unsatisfying, but still softer-than-the-ground seat cushions.
She woke up the next morning to the sun shining through her eyelids, which were glued shut by dried mascara. After what felt like half an hour of repeatedly picking dark mascara crust from her eyes and blinking profusely because there was still some left, she found a note on the deck table beside her.
Oh, right. she thought, I have yet again been an inconvenience plaguing society, and need to be reprimanded in the most impersonal way possible.
She picked up the note, steeled herself for an onslaught of passive-aggressive abuse, then started to read.
“I saw you out here just before going to bed (about 2 AM). Sorry I couldn’t carry you in, out of the cold. I hope the blankets were enough.
When you wake up, you can knock on my bedroom window (the one just behind the lattice) and I’ll come let you in. Just in case I’m out cold, there’s warm tea in the thermos that can help warm you up.
Hope you don’t freeze to death.
-Emma”
Looking around her properly, Vera saw that there were indeed three blankets still half draped over her and a thermos on the table. Tears started welling up in her eyes again, but instead of the sadness she had felt the day before, it was confused tears of relief. The tears hurt her eyes, but she didn’t care.
*****
When Emma woke up it was already bright outside, which was nothing new for her, but she had hoped to be woken up by that pretty stranger on her deck, partly because she was worried about her, and partly because she felt there was a story there, and she was curious.
I guess she ran off. she thought, Knowing the people in this town, she probably took what she could sell and disappeared. I’m probably gonna have to get a new thermos, and some new blankets.
To Emma’s surprise, when she looked out on the deck, not only was there still a thermos and some blankets still there, there was also a girl, still there.
-----
To be continued (if I ever find my way back to it)
Without thinking, she rushed out to find the stranger slumped in her blankets, cup of tea in hand.
"Hey." Emma said. "Are you ok?"
"No." answered the stranger in a flat, defeated tone.
"It must have been freezing out here. I'm sorry, I really thought I would wake up when you knocked on the window."
The stranger seemed to curl up even more at that comment.
"Thanks for the tea and the blankets." She said, changing the subject.
"No worries." said Emma. "Now please come in and warm up. Or perhaps you would rather just get a ride home?"
"Are you sure it's ok if I come in?" asked the stranger. "I don't want to be a bother."
"It's no bother." said Emma, with the warmest, most welcoming smile she could muster, sensing that this stranger might need a little encouragement to to actually accept help.
--------------
With a "Thank you",Vera grabbed the thermos, cup, blankets, and even the note, and slowly shuffled inside what seemed to be Emma's living room, settling down on a couch. It was a bit of a hassle to get everything in without dropping the blankets off her shoulders, but she didn't want to make Emma go to more trouble than necessary. She had gotten surprisingly attached to the note, but didn't have any pockets to put it in, since her bag was in places unknown.
"So..." said Emma, putting on another kettle for tea. "How did you end up sleeping on my deck?"
With the memories of yesterday flooding back in, along with the terrible situation she was in, Vera couldn't help but to start crying again.
Emma blurted out a quick "Oh, no, you don't have to talk about it. I'm sorry." which prompted Vera to start crying even harder. She had actually gotten this sweet, kind stranger to apologise to her. She should be the one apologising, but all the tears and sobbing were getting in the way. She felt Emma sit down next to her on the sofa, saying "Would you like a hug?" Vera didn't want to be more of a bother but she couldn't bring herself to lie to this kind stranger, so she managed a nod, and then felt these warm, strong arms around her, just radiating comfort and kindness into this ball of sadness wrapped in blankets. Vera found herself with tears still streaming down her face, but not sobbing. She was stunned by how comforting and safe Emma's embrace felt.
Then the hug ended. The feeling of comfort and kindness was still coming from Emma, but losing that direct connection to it so quickly hurt. Suddenly she was back in reality, with all of the weight of her problems looming outside the door. She realised that the feeling of safety and comfort she was feeling was foreign to her, which made her more sad, and she found herself just staring at Emma through the blur of tears in her eyes, unable to move or find something to say.
"You didn't like the hug." Emma said, backing away a little. "I'm sorry, I thought it would help."
"No, it was nice." Vera managed to squeeze out, despite her state. "Thank you."
"Oh, good." Emma said, looking relieved, with that warm smile that seemed to want to envelop Vera in a blanket thick enough to keep out everything bad in the world.
Her kindness is more than I deserve. Vera thought to herself. I know it's selfish, but i hope it takes a while before she realises that.
She started feeling guilty for thinking that way, but at the moment the comfort radiating off of Emma was offsetting the negative feelings by a huge margin. However there was still an underlying sadness she couldn't shake.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
By all storytelling standards, it should have been a dark and stormy night. It should have been a terribly loud, sad and angry sky that raged overhead, but it was sunny and it was daytime. No one could have guessed the tragedy that was happening underneath it. It was the most terrible day that Vera had ever had in her life. Her now ex had suddenly left her and moved far away with no warning, her father had died in the hospital shortly after, and in the throes of grief, Vera's mother had blamed her. Earlier, she had forgotten her bag on the bus, containing her wallet, her keys, her computer and her phone. She knew that the first thing to do was probably to phone the bus company in hopes that some kind soul had brought her bag to lost and found… But she didn’t have the strength for that. This awful day had beaten her down, drained her of all energy and strength, and as if that wasn’t enough, she was now being told by some police that she couldn’t remain here slumped on the ground, crushed under the weight of devastating tragedy, because the park was closing. After having physically carried this empty husk of a person to the edge of the park, the policemen locked the park gates and disappeared into the crowd.
The crowd – that heartless amorphous entity that would roam the streets day after day had never seemed so cold before. Vera used to relish in the asocial nature of the city crowds, as it afforded her peace and relative quiet on her daily commutes, but the social system that treated normal people with respectable apathy treated those in need with disgust. It was as if the people of the city blamed her for her moment of weakness, as if the mere act of existing in noticeable distress was an immoral assault of guilt upon the rest of the world.
I guess that’s how it works. She thought, Being noticeable makes you one of two things: a passing novelty or a crime against civilised society, depending entirely on whether or not people like what they see, on whether or not you were too different to be acceptable.
Apparently having a face full of tears mixed with mascara and your very soul quietly wailing in agony was too different for these people.
By the time the sky was starting to darken, Vera had managed to curl up, leaning on the side of a bench, having lacked the strength to actually get up onto the bench. This was better, because being out of the way of everyone and half-behind something kept most people from leering at you as they walked by.
A couple of hours later, the early autumn chill had set in to such a degree that it seemed to flip a switch in Vera, kicking some sort of survival instinct into gear, and she found herself stumbling meekly towards home.
With her keys presumably in some bus depot somewhere, Vera ended up sleeping on her neighbour’s deck furniture, as it gave at least a flimsy roof overhead, some distance between her and the cold ground, as well as some unsatisfying, but still softer-than-the-ground seat cushions.
She woke up the next morning to the sun shining through her eyelids, which were glued shut by dried mascara. After what felt like half an hour of repeatedly picking dark mascara crust from her eyes and blinking profusely because there was still some left, she found a note on the deck table beside her.
Oh, right. she thought, I have yet again been an inconvenience plaguing society, and need to be reprimanded in the most impersonal way possible.
She picked up the note, steeled herself for an onslaught of passive-aggressive abuse, then started to read.
“I saw you out here just before going to bed (about 2 AM). Sorry I couldn’t carry you in, out of the cold. I hope the blankets were enough.
When you wake up, you can knock on my bedroom window (the one just behind the lattice) and I’ll come let you in. Just in case I’m out cold, there’s warm tea in the thermos that can help warm you up.
Hope you don’t freeze to death.
-Emma”
Looking around her properly, Vera saw that there were indeed three blankets still half draped over her and a thermos on the table. Tears started welling up in her eyes again, but instead of the sadness she had felt the day before, it was confused tears of relief. The tears hurt her eyes, but she didn’t care.
*****
When Emma woke up it was already bright outside, which was nothing new for her, but she had hoped to be woken up by that pretty stranger on her deck, partly because she was worried about her, and partly because she felt there was a story there, and she was curious.
I guess she ran off. she thought, Knowing the people in this town, she probably took what she could sell and disappeared. I’m probably gonna have to get a new thermos, and some new blankets.
To Emma’s surprise, when she looked out on the deck, not only was there still a thermos and some blankets still there, there was also a girl, still there.
-----
To be continued (if I ever find my way back to it)
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
One day a woman finds bottle, from which a genie emerges.
"Whoever finds this bottle gets three wishes to be granted by me." said the genie. "However, there are three rules.
1. You may not wish for more wishes, either for yourself or for others. Three is all you will get, and they are yours alone.
2. No wish may interfere with free will.
3. No bringing the dead back to life."
The woman was stunned in surprise, and took a long moment to process before asking "Do i have to make the wishes now?"
"No," answered the genie, "you may make your wishes at any time."
"Then I will think on it." said the woman.
------
After some time to think and prepare, the woman opened the bottle again, summoning the genie. She held up a piece of paper and said "I wish to own every item on this list."
The genie gave a smile and said "Your wish is my command." and there came a poof of smoke.
When the smoke lifted, nothing had changed.
"What happened?" asked the woman "Where are all the items?"
The genies smile grew wider and more smug as they explained. "One of each of those items have legally transferred ownership to you. If you want me to tell you where they are, it will cost you another wish."
The genie looked down at her, smug and said "I gave you what you wished for, so don't blame me." The genie then cleared their throat and returned to their more official tone of voice. "You have two wishes left. Make them at your leisure." Still with just a hint of smugness shining through.
The woman looked up at the genie with an angry scowl, the wheels turning in her head, trying to think of what to say, how to make clear to this... this clearly malicious being that what they had just done is unfair and wrong, and that they don't need to antagonise the people they serve.
After a some moments of thinking and angrily muttering to herself, the woman's face took a look of determination.
"I know my next wish." she said.
"Then speak it." Answered the genie.
A self-satisfied smile crept across the woman's face as she spoke.
"I wish that for every wish granted by you, past present or future, the maker of the wish be presented with the option to have that wish reversed, two months after the granting of the wish, or at the earliest possible time thereafter."
With each well-chosen word coming out of the woman's mouth the genie grew more and more pale, realising that this was a wish unlike any others before it.
"No you can't do that!" said the genie.
"You said I couldn't wish for more wishes, but you said nothing about wishing away other people's wishes."
"Do you realise that I now have to revisit every person I have ever granted a wish to and to do their bidding once again?"
"Yes." Answered the woman simply. "That is is precisely why I worded it like that. And besides, if you did do their bidding in a satisfactory manner the first time, then you wont have to change anything, now will you?"
The genie gave an angry huff, and uttered the phrase they had said so many times before, but now, for the first time with a tone of utter dejected disappointment "Your wish is my command", before disappearing in a puff of smoke.
------
After a few months, the genie appeared before the woman once again.
"Would you like to reverse any of the wishes I have granted you?" asked genie, making it obvious that they were tired of saying the phrase.
"No, thank you." answered the woman, smiling.
"There." said the genie, almost sounding exhausted. "Your wish has been granted, although reluctantly and under protest."
"Good. Thank you." said the woman, with the same air of self-satisfaction as before, almost as if it had persisted since the genie last saw her.
"Now tell me," said the woman, "how many of the wishes did you have to reverse?" she asked.
"A majority." answered the genie, with irritation in their voice.
"And how many of those gave you a genuine and heartfelt 'thank you' for your service?"
After a brief pause, the genie replied, once again "A majority", seeming to understand what the woman was getting at.
"You see, a lot of people don't deserve your tricks, and even the ones who do might change for the better." said the woman. "Now you might argue that some of those people didn't deserve a second chance, and I would probably agree with you, but giving them that is a small price to pay for giving that chance to those who do deserve it."
The genie looked at her, processing for a minute. "You know, I haven't granted wishes to anyone like you before. You've managed to be a real pain in the ass." they said.
"Hopefully, a pain in the ass that managed to teach you something." said the woman.
"So..." continued the genie, changing the subject. "You have one more wish. What will it be?"
"I don't want anything else." said the woman, leaving the genie stunned in surprise. "You can have it. Maybe you can wish to be free from wish-granting, so you won't become bitter again from all of us pain-in-the-ass mortals."
After collecting themself, the genie responded. "That's very kind, but as I said the first time we met, the wishes are yours and yours alone. You cannot give them away."
"You're right." said the woman. She then ducked into the next room for a moment and came back with some paper and a pencil. "You write down what you want, and I'll wish for what's written to take effect."
The genie was taken aback, and almost moved to tears. After centuries of doing the bidding of others, could they finally do something for themself?
"You are too kind." they responded sheepishly. "But I will not disrespect you kindness by refusing. To grant wishes is my entire purpose, I don't wish to give that up, but you have proven that I need some new rules."
"Alright, sounds good." Said the woman.
"If it doesn't overstep," began the genie, clearly talking against their instincts. "could you maybe help me write the rules, so they won't get twisted against me again? Since you seem to be-"
"Better than you?" interrupted the woman, reaching a new level of smugness.
"I was going to say competent, in these kinds of matters."
"I would be happy to," said the woman. "on one condition. That you make sure that this bottle of yours makes it into the hands of the love of my life. After I find her, that is."
A big heartfelt smile grew across the genies face.
