The Wishmaker's Key, one of the fabled artifacts of the arcane that grants your wishes, and the most sought after. Not cursed like the Monkey's Paw that twists your wish and grants it in such a way that guarantees your suffering. No dreadful price to pay like with the Devil's Bottle, which summons a demon that grants wishes but condemns your soul to Hell. No, the Wishmaker's Key was never described as cursed or dreaded. Every ancient libram of legends had it as the Fair Artifact.

However, few people knew that the Key was truly a fair artifact. Having your wishes granted for free, with no effort on your part, is not fair. The Key does not do that. It grants your wishes, but you have to work for them to come true.

Annette the Red, a scullery maid from Maracanor, once found the Key and wished to become a great sorceress. She lost her job at Baron von Koffinus' household and was hired by the wizard Solomon Craque. Soon she became the wizard's all-around assistant, and the cranky old mage agreed to teach her some of his craft. One hundred years later, Annette became a member of the Grey Council, an exalted order of archmages.

Sir Glorius, a poor landless knight, was the next owner of the Key. He did not believe at first that this was the fabled Wishmaker's Key, and jokingly wished to become King of Caramanor. The next day, the infamous pretender, Balderac the False King, started his rebellion in the Eastern Holds, and the local count declared a call to arms. Sir Glorius was accepted into the count's personal guard and rode into battle against the pretender. In the long and harrowing civil war, most of the old nobility died, and new heroic warlords arose, one of them Sir Glorius, who ended the war by capturing the capital of the Eastern Holds, returned triumphantly into the deserted Isle de Caramanor and was crowned king.

Finally, the Key found itself in the hands of the traveling wizard Albendalf the White. Having immediately recognized the Key for what it is, the wizard decided to test it by wishing for a cup of good coffee as he was walking down the streets of Barmalion City. And lo and behold, just around the corner was a fine little coffee shop. Albendalf entered and ordered some Al Shaytani coffee, and damn, that cup was a good one and worth every penny.

The old man shuffled over to the counter with a cloth wrapped around something in his hand. When he placed the cloth on the counter, he slowly unwrapped it, careful not to touch the item inside. It was a brass skeleton key, approximately 5 inches long with a Skull at one end, and a very ornate key head at the other. It looked like it was generating its own light, but it was the end of a long day, so I can't trust my memory in some ways.

"This... This is what you came here for." The old man whispered.

"No. I don't think it is. I thought you were the last owner of the Monkey's paw. That is what I need. I can make the wishes and not screw it up." I was desperate, and he knew it, even if I didn't at the time.

"The Paw, everyone wants the paw, everyone thinks they can outsmart the paw. You cannot. I could not, and look at me, I'm OLD, and allegedly wise." He coughed for a moment and I thought he was actually going to die in front of me before continuing after spitting out a glob of lung butter the size of a dollar coin. "This is the Wishmaker's KEY!", he stopped like I should know what that meant. He continued, "Nobody appreciates a good intro. Look, this will provide you with the best way to get what you want. 3 wishes, but they are, opportunities, not gifts, so you have to work for them once the wish is made."

"I've HAD opportunities, everything I touch just turns to shit! I need the Paw!" I paced in front of the counter, barely able to keep from staring at the key.

"The Paw is no good. Besides..." He looked away, "I used it to create this, it is no more"

"What? How is that possible?"

"I bought the Paw for a single penny. It must be sold for less. I used the last of it's magic to create this. " He motioned at the key. "I will sell you the key for 100 Dollars. You can sell it for..."

"Yeah, I know, $99.99, I get it. Okay, I'll buy it." I handed him a hundred dollar bill.

"Take your merchandise."

The moment my fingers touched the key, I was standing on the sidewalk in front of the store I had just been inside. However, this building was burned out. I wasn't sure how this happened, but I knew I wanted to leave, to get home and make my wish.

---------------

​

"I wish my family's business was thriving and had never failed." Similar to the paw, the key had markings and one of them disappeared as I felt a shock through my arm. I was suddenly imbued with knowledge of how to revive my family business. But that was it. "Well shit, I still have to do the work? That sucks." I decided to get in bed and start in the morning....

Little did I know...

There were a lot of rumoured ways to have your wildest dreams, all with just enough truth to them to spark hope in the lost. Wishing stars asked for nothing but a keen eye and pure heart. Genies needed nothing more than careful wording. Birthdays offered everyone the same opportunity every year.

Whispered wished offered to those methods were wasted on the wind. In the end there was only one method that I'd found in years of study that seemed to be true, seemed to be something that people like me could verify.

A wishmakers key.

I didn't know where they came from, or where they went once they'd been used, but Wishmaker's keys offered the simple promise, they would make anything possible. The keys could wrestle the laws of the universe and force them into a place where the user could grant their wish for themsleves.

Of course, in most cases, this meant the Wishmaker's keys faded away without having done much at all. Fairytales might have belabored the point, but it was true that most people's wishes were already within their reach.

You wouldn't even know if you wasted your wish, because you could, eventually, make it.

The rusted but somehow still glittering key on my desk tempted its spot in the lamplight. It whispered things, promised solutions to problems I didn't have, offered to make my dreams come true, even as the dreams that idly came to mind were things I could easily manage without the assistance of the key.

I didn't need a magical artifact to make me tea, all I had to do was walk downstairs to do it.

But the whispers didn't stop.

I made a quick note in my journal about the behaviour and took a look at my phone on the desk. It was well past the witching hour and I didn't have anything other than idle observations about the key I'd gotten my hands on this afternoon.

Well, the key I'd made myself destitute over this afternoon. They might have only been a way to unlock the doors of life, but keys certainly carried the price tag of catch-all solution to your every whim.

Of course, the key could help me get money. It could ensure that I didn't need to worry about that ever again. It could-

I shook my head and stared down the key, pushing the affected thoughts out of my mind. "Why do you want to be used?" I asked the antique brass.

All I needed to do was ask it formally and I could be sure that I would eventually get the answer...

I grabbed the key and put it back into the box that I'd bought it in, securing a key behind a lock. I was too tired to have something else trying to convince me of a solution. I needed sleep, and I certainly didn't need it to tell me how to get that.

---

I woke up closer to morning than the middle of the night, whcih wasn't hard considering that was when I'd gone to sleep. Dawn was just getting around to arriving as I sat up in the bed and stared over at my desk, and the lockbox on it.

Inspiration stuck at strange times, but usually I was at least awake for it.

I slipped over to the desk, putting on a housecoat on the way to make an attempt at modesty. Once I was sitting down I found a hairtie I'd left out last night and pulled my tangled hair our of my eyes.

Years had bled away as I'd burned the university's grant money on wish research. It had always been an easy topic to get funding for, afterall, everyone wanted to know what they could do to wish the worst parts of their life away.

I pulled the key out of the box and sat in the middle of the desk this time, leaving it between my and my well-worn sage notebook. I drummed fingers on the desk, and waited for it to talk to me.

For the first time since I'd gotten it, the key stayed quiet, waiting for me to speak to it instead of offering it's constant opinion on how useful it was.

The last thirty pages of notes from last night were a slow read, a mostly rambling mess that had come from the frantic idea that I'd finally found something that wasn't a placebo, but-

I flipped past the last notes I'd made to the first blank page and put pen to paper. Just when I was about to write I pulled back from it, leaving an ink stain on the page.

The key looked dull now, even in the waking light of dawn.

"Just another wishing star," I sighed to the key. That was the philosophy of the Wishmaker, it opened doors, but as it stood anything was already possible. It didn't matter what wish I offered the key, becuase even the impossible was possible if there was an artifact out there that could grant wishes, "isn't that right?"

The key itself didn't have a voice, it had always stolen mine by putting words into my head. That said, even voiceless, it laughed.

The Wishmaker’s Key

A trio of disturbing tales that hold a mirror up to your innermost fears, and that shine light on the bleakness of the human condition. Join us today for the first of these horrific stories, starring Richard Bankins, a milquetoast layabout who wishes to change his ways. A chance encounter with a mysterious stranger might just give him the supernatural impetus to do so.

Everyone has a story hidden behind the locked door of their soul. A door that can only be unlocked by… The Wishmaker’s key!

​

The Internet Falls

The internet was down.

The fucking internet was down!

Richard wiped sweat off his forehead as his eyes flicked between the red light on the router and the Netflix error message. He shovelled in a few more Doritos for a dusting of courage. The new episode of Picard would be out by now — and yes, true, he despised the show and believed it ruined the legacy of a something he was too young to have ever watched, but still! He loved to hate it, and that meant something.

And now… Now no Picard. What a cruel twist of fate. What had he done to deserve this?

The key! Of course, it had to be the key the old hobo had given him yesterday. Richard had flicked the scraggly bearded man a dime as he’d left Walmart. The man caught the coin in a dirty palm and rose from his nest of threadbare blankets as if Richard had charmed some kind of human looking snake.

“Many thanks, friend, for the cents. Now let me do you a favor in return.”

Richard thought the flash of silver to be a gun and had raised his hands, squirmed, begged for his life. But it was a key! A key as large as a good-sized child’s hand.

“Make a wish on this key and there’s a decent chance it’ll come true.”

”You’re kidding?”

”I kid you not.”

Richard had taken the key, partly out of fear, mostly out of curiosity. And later that evening, after binging The Last of Us for a third time and declaring on IMDB that it was overrated and overhyped, he made his wish.

“I wish I wasn’t so lazy and so addicted to the net. I want to go out and meet people. I want a real relationship, be it friendship or love. But I’m a compass pointing towards the magnetic north of the internet and I just can’t look away.”

Now, as Richard stared at the red light of the router, he thought of the key and knew his wish had been granted.

He was free. Totally free of it! Like a genie who had wished itself out of bottle it’d fallen inside of and then corked up. Free!

The world was his oyster.

Where would he go first though? The gym? The park? A walk in the woods? A nice soak at a hot spa perhaps?

A hot spa…

A hotspot?

He pulled out his phone and quickly, dextrously, set up a network.

Soon Picard was dottering through space and Richard was typing up his comments for Reddit.

"Genie of the Key, speak to me." A puff of smoke came up as the genie of the key headed out.

"What is it now?"

"Look. You told me you were going to grant me wishes, and you keep going back on your word. What is the deal?"

"I keep granting you the wishes, just as you said."

"Oh really. I wished for untold riches."

"Yeah, you did it many times. I don't know what else I can do. I taught you how to code, I helped you sign up for a Robinhood account and start learning the stock market and get into crypto, I got you into the sports card scene again so you could get into those super rare hits- I did all I could to help you there. Not my fault the bubble burst..."

"You're a genie. You can fix it so it can't."

"No, my power doesn't work like that."

"Well, whatever. And the time I wished for immortality?"

"Did you SEE that one piece you wrote? All you have to do is get it published and you'll live on forever with something that good. You make great works and leave a legacy, you become immortal."

"You keep blowing smoke up my ass, but I don't think that works..."

"And the wish for true love..."

"Hey, I got you some nice clothes that you might look better in instead of those wrestling and anime T-shirts you always wear like you're still a teenager, I signed you up for Tinder, I got your confidence back up, I helped you look for new opportunities to get yourself out there instead of spending all your time shut away from everyone. I did all I could, the rest is up to you to prove you can be a good man...which, I might add, if you had followed the first and second wishes to its conclusion, you MIGHT BE!"

"Can you just give me some quick fix to get some of these?"

"Another person who wants a quick fix. They always blame the life coach and not themselves."

"Genie of the Key, I wish for some quick fixes to make these wishes come to pass."

I waited a bit...and I suddenly felt a big jolt of inspiration. I've been wasting my time. I need to get back to that website to learn, I need to write again. Let me get cleaned up, get back to work, and actually try to make this stuff wor-why the fuck is that genie laughing?

"...you all always think you're so smart, don't you? You're not the first who tried that and you damn sure won't be the last. Enjoy the burst of motivation."

"Dammit, genie, I wish for a billion bucks to show up right at my doorstep!"

I waited- and a huge pile of acorns fell all around my apartment. "Well, I did it. Just open the door and give it time, I'm sure the deer in the neighborhood will be happy."

"This is not funny, Genie, I wish for eternal life!"

I heard a knock on my door.

"Hi, we're with the local church, have you heard the word of our Lord?"

"GODDAMMIT!" The missionaries in the front looked peeved. "Well, clearly this person seems like a real pleasure to deal with..."

"Genie, I wish for a beautiful model to head to my doorstep and be ready for me..." Just then I saw an Amazon truck come by, and hand me that figurine I had been waiting for for a few month "YOU THINK YOU'RE SO FUNNY, DON'T YOU?"

"I told you. I do not grant wishes, I give you the power to grant them yourself."

"Dammit...I will only say this once. GENIE, I WISH FOR YOU TO GIVE ME EXACTLY WHAT I DESERVE!"

A big pounding sound was at my door...

I:

Florian let out a long sigh. The last trap had been foiled, the last puzzle solved, and the many treacherous decoy treasures dismissed. Finally, he stood at the center of the vast underground labyrinth he had painstakingly navigated over the course of the past month, and beheld the object of his search: an unassuming wooden coffer set atop a plain stone plinth.

Hand trembling, he reached out and lifted the coffer's lid. His eyes widened, as the light of his torch caught the glint of the polished bronze object inside.

The Wishmaker's Key.

Many great men and women had benefited from its subtle magic, he knew. Though the wielders of the Key were never simply handed their heart's desire, somehow -- often through trials and tribulations -- they found their way to that which they had wished for. And now, it was his turn.

He did not know where the Key would take him, or what it would require of him in order to grant his wish. But he had come this far, and despite his weariness, he was ready to take the next step on his journey. Reverently, he lifted the key from its coffer.

In appearance, it was a large skeleton key of a simple design, and might have been belonged to the door of any number of humble dwellings. But the untarnished mirror-like gleam of its surface told a different tale. This was something well cared for, something long treasured.

He took a deep breath. He'd thought long and hard about how to word his wish, but in the end, he decided to simply speak from the heart. The Wishmaker's Key was no monkey's paw, nor was it some trickster genie that was eager to twist the words of its master.

"I wish to know your story." Florian said. "What are you, and where do you come from?"

"Interesting. Rarely are the Key's journeys so short," said a voice from behind him.

Florian whirled around to face the source of the sound. An old man in long blue robes stood before, leaning on a gnarled wooden staff. His face was mature, though not elderly in appearance, despite his long white hair, and the white beard that reached below the belt of golden cord at his waist. A broad-brimmed hat with a pointed crown perched on his head at an angle, and Florian's eyes widened as he saw the three white owl's feathers that adorned the ban.

"Alfarinn Owlfeather!" he exclaimed. According to Florian's research, Alfarinn had been the builder of the labyrinth he now stood in, as well as the Key's most recent wielder. But then, according to that same research, he should also have been long dead, by this time.

"Indeed!" the wizard affirmed, with a nod. "And you are a rarity, young sir. Many have Wished for wealth or power, a few have wished for knowledge, but you are the first I know of to ask for a story."

"I thought I wanted those other things, once." Florian admitted, cautiously. "That's why I became what I am, er...a treasure hunter, I suppose."

"Hmm," Alfarinn said, nodding thoughtfully. "What changed, then?"

Florian eyed the old wizard uncertainly. Older magi tended towards eccentricity, and could be unpredictable. He wasn't sure if the wizard considered him a thief or a guest, but he decided honestly was probably the best policy -- wizards often had ways of discerning truth from falsehood.

"Ever since I was a child, my favorite stories were the ones about the Wishmaker's Key," Florian explained. "I loved hearing and reading about all the amazing people throughout history who've wielded the Key, and gone on incredible adventures to find their heart's desire."

"And?" Alfarinn prompted, raising his bushy eyebrows.

"And, after researching the Key, hunting for it, and finding wealth and adventure along the way...it's occurred to me that what I really wanted most wasn't to use the Key for some other end. What I really want is more of the story."

The wizard nodded. "You may disappointed, then. The story of the Wishmaker's Key has no ending -- nor will it ever, I should think."

"I know." Florian said, with a slight smile. "And I wouldn't want it to. That's why I wished to know the beginning."

The wizard smiled back. "Ah, I see now. Then it is as I said -- the journey the Key has sent you on to find your heart's desire is quite short. But considering the journey you undertook to claim it in the first place, perhaps that is only fair."

The wizard raised his staff, and two arm chairs appeared next to the stone plinth. Orbs of light flashed into existence around the central chamber of the labyrinth, revealing it to be a surprisingly cozy-looking study lined with bookshelves.

"Have a seat," the old mage prompted, and Florian obliged.

"If I may ask..." Florian said, feeling bolder now that it seemed the wizard was kindly disposed towards him. "What did you wish for?"

"To become a great wizard and find the secret of immortality." Alfarinn said, with a chuckle. "Rather cheeky of me, wasn't it, working in two wishes at once like that?"

"You're immortal?" Florian asked, excitedly.

"Yes. As are you, and as are all men. The core of who we are is not flesh and blood, and cannot die. This is the true secret of immortality." Alfarinn gestured to his relatively young face. "Oh, this? Merely a few workings of magic that prolong life. My body shall live long and remain hale, Divine willing, but it will still perish one day."

"I see." Florian said, frowning thoughtfully. "And what of the Key, and its origins?"

"Ah, that is something I discovered in the process of granting the first half of my wish." Alfarinn said. He gestured to the Wishmaker's Key that Florian still held in his hand. "Even objects without a mind have a kind of memory, and I found that the Key is no exception. With the right bit of magic, that memory can be coaxed out of them."

The old wizard learned forward, with a mysterious smile. "So, young man, here is where the story of the Wishmaker's Key begins..."

(continued in comments)

The burly soldier-for-hire furrowed his brow. "A key?... What's it open?"

"pfft.. never needed a key before, not looking for one now. Pass." The fair-skinned elf excused herself from the table. She didn't go far; leaning against a nearby post, scanning the tavern's crowd for a loose pocket or two. But not quite far enough to be unable to listen in on the negotiations. Clearly a well practiced thief.

"Plenty of keys out there," a cleric of some unpronounceable deity stated flatly. "What makes this one special enough to hire anyone to find it?"

The fourth member of the group, a wizened old crone, listened intently. I sensed she already deduced what I was looking for. The feeling of a mental scrying spell worked its way over my scalp. Lying now would be a poor decision.

"It isn't a key in the traditional sense. It's not designed to lock anything away; it's meant to open possibilities."

The scrying spell receded. The crone leaned forward, a small smile appearing in the corners of her mouth. "I believe I know the object you seek." Her voice was strong and deep, certainly not what you may expect from her external appearance. "What do you know if it, young scribe?"

"Not enough." Breathing deeply, I began my tale. "I had been foolish. I hadn't realized what it was... the Wishmaker's Key."

The cleric and soldier looked at each other with confused looks. The thief slightly - almost imperceptibly - cocked her head to better hear the next part of the story. The crone's smile remained. "Please... tell us."

"I was with a group similar to yours; but very different circumstances. They had hired me to record their ... for lack of a better term... exploits. Low-stakes adventuring, work-for-hire guard duty, so on, so forth. But they got a job from a local baron to pilfer a local monastery."

A disapproving glare stabbed into me from across the table. It seemed the soldier had a negative opinion of raiders. And had an even lower opinion of those that would compare them to his adventuring group.

"The monks put up no resistance; almost welcoming, in fact. The raiders grabbed the loot as instructed, I wrote... some nonsense that would paint them as the aggrieved party or some such rubbish. Don't worry, I burned it later."

The cleric yawned deeply. "Clearly not a temple of the Faded One. You would not have walked out alive. Kindly, get to the point."

"As we were leaving, one of the monks pressed an oiled leather pouch into my hand. 'Take this,' he said. 'May it show you another path.' I hid the pouch from the others, and parted ways with them soon after. Once I had returned to the local inn, I retreated to my room and emptied the pouch onto window shelf. A single key clattered out. No larger than a standard key, no distinct adornments. Simple tooth pattern, seeming made of brass. But something unexplainable. The air around it seemed to... warp, almost. I knew immediately there was something magical about it. I decided to visit the academy to research it further."

"I looked through every book about legendary treasure; every book about less legendary treasures. Even the back pages of those adventuring guides for beginners. Nothing about this non-descript key."

"And that's when I made my mistake."

"I had been absorbed in reading these storied tomes about magical artifacts; the florid stories about their creation and the results of their use. I took the key out of my pocket, looked at it from all angles. And, in a moment of exhaustion, I said - out loud -"

"I wish I could write a story about a magical artifact and have it carry down through history."

The thief had returned to the table; I hadn't even noticed. "What happened then?"

"Nothing, really. I sat their a bit longer, thinking about my next steps. It occurred to me to try and revisit the monk who gave me the key in the first place. I put the key back in my pocket, and gathered up the tomes to return them back to the stacks. I ordered my notes, packed up my bag, then got ready to leave. I instinctively moved my hand to my pocket to confirm the key was still there..."

"And it was gone."

"I panicked. Searched the desk I was working at, emptied my bag, scoured the floors and ransacked the stacks where I had been earlier. No trace. Dejected, I eventually found my way back to the monastery. I spoke to the monk that gave me the key, stating what had happened. He simply smiled and said 'I am glad it has given you what you needed.' I stood there in profound confusion. He then handed me a tattered scroll. It was in an ancient language, which took weeks to translate. It described the key perfectly. Even the way it had disappeared was part of the legend. And gave it a name: the Wishmaker's Key. The scroll described as having vast power, but applied it in an impossibly subtle way. You had to work for it... but the key can grant wishes."

I let that last word hang in the air. Wishes... every adventurer knew the unfathomable power of a wish.

The cleric broke the silence. "When do we start?" The thief grinned broadly, and looked to the soldier. Already he could see twos 'ayes' to take the job; no point fighting the tide.

"Alright, we accept. Be ready to ride at first light."

The others eventually drifted off to drinks or delights, but the crone remained. "So... what drives you to find the key again? More wishes?"

It was my turn to smile. "No, I just want to write about the journey to find it. I can't think of a better way to grant my own wish."

I lie on my bed watching Wishmaster when I hear my dog barking.

Mail's here... I sigh to myself.

The postman hands me a small package as I rush out. "But I didn't..." Too late. He's gone to the next house.

"Uncle Abraham? What's this? What'd that old codger send me now?" I read the letter: it's almost in an illegible script.

"Dearest William, how are you? Enclosed, I send this key. I picked it from a market stall in Tehran. The seller has informed me to please be careful and not to make wishes out loud as it will come true in the worst possible way... it's said a jinn possesses it. Please do not make the same mistakes I did: I lost my fortune, Aunt Anya died suddenly, of a stroke, and bad luck now follows me. Warmest wishes, Uncle Abraham.

P.S.: Please do not try and get rid of it."

"Yeah, right, I---"

The dog continues to bark incessantly. "WILL YOU SHUT UP?! HE'S GONE!" I yell at the dog to be quiet.

"I wish that I couldn't hear that stupid dog anymore..." I say to myself and the key glows red in my hand, then fades.

Nothing. "I knew it. Piece of junk. Feeble old man---"

My hearing has vanished mysteriously and I can't hear the dog anymore.

I look wide-eyed at the key in my hand. The number 1 has vanished.

I run outside and throw the key in a nearby river.

As I walk back to the house and unlock the kitchen door, there it sits, dry as a bone and unharmed.

"Stupid piece of... I could've sworn I... meet garbage disposal!" I pick the key up and throw it in.

And that's the end of---

The blades whir, then stop and smoke. The key is unharmed, but the blades are bent. The key gets spit back out.

Something taps me on the shoulder.

"Having trouble, are we?"

A grotesque, humanoid form covered in blue marks stands behind me, grinning toothily.

"Go on. Make another wish and this'll all be over. Do you wish that?" This must be the jinn.

"Yeah, I wish---" I catch myself before saying it. Wait! NO! Don't do it! This sounds like...

"Oh no, you don't, you little tattooed putz!"

His face falls, like he'd just been foiled for the first time in 800 years.

"Bravo. You've got 2 wishes left, you know. Why don't you wish for a place better than this dump? Or perhaps you'd like SOMEONE gone."

"You must think I just fell off the first turnip truck that rolled into town. Didn't you hear me the first time, you tattooed freak? I ain't buying, so shove it"

I'd never seen it before. I think I would remember it if I had. But there it was, an old rusty key, lying on my desk.

"I wish I knew what lock it's for..." I mumbled as I traced the surprisingly intricate engraving. "It's beautiful."

On a whim, I decided to go visit the antique shop next door, thinking maybe they'd know.

‐--‐---------------------

"That's something quite peculiar you've got there.", the old man at the antique shop said, as he pored over it with his jeweler's loupe. "It's way too intricate to fit into any lock. I think this might be a Wishmaker's Key."

"A what?"

"A Wishmaker's Key. Basically, it's a good luck charm, of sorts. Supposedly, when you touch it and make a wish, it opens up an opportunity for you to get what you want. All superstition, of course, but people did believe in it back then."

"So it's like a genie in a bottle?"

"Oh, no, not at all. That's what I like about this particular superstition. It doesn't just grant your wish outright. All it does is give you an opportunity. I think it's a beautiful reminder of the value of hard work."

‐----------------------

Maybe it was just a coincidence. A hundred-year-old good luck charm. Nothing more. Maybe someone just left it there on accident and forgot about it.

But I kept thinking... what if it wasn't? How could I test it out? What should I wish for?

"I wish I had a million bucks.", I muttered to the key, thinking I might as well go with the obvious.

A few minutes later, my boss called. I'd been promoted.

Sure, I wouldn't be a millionaire right away, but the promotion did come with a significant pay increase. It worked, sort of. I decided to keep the key on me from then on. It couldn't hurt to have a good luck charm around, even if it's just superstition. Besides, it's pretty.

A whimsical thought struck me as I walked down the street. What if I wished for something physically impossible?

"I wish I had a pet dragon.", I whispered under my breath, fingering the key in my pocket.

As I thought to myself that there was no way the key could fulfill this wish, I noticed I didn't recognize the streets around me. I'd gotten lost. And wouldn't you know it, there was a pet store right across the street.

Sure enough, there were no fire-breathing mythical creatures in sight. I figured as much. But there was this rather handsome lizard chilling in a tank, somewhere in the back of the store. I checked the name tag that was stuck on the side of the tank.

"Name: Larry Species: Bearded dragon"

Well, what do you know. It actually worked.

Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.

Reminders:

>* No AI-generated reponses 🤖 >* Stories 100 words+. Poems 30+ but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* [RF] and [SP] for stricter titles >* Be civil in any feedback and follow the rules

🆕 New Here? ✏ Writing Help? 📢 News 💬 Discord

I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please contact the moderators of this subreddit if you have any questions or concerns.

[removed]