Be Careful What You Wish For

chapter eight: power

Margaret opened her eyes. She felt different. Usually when she woke up in the morning she felt like crap. But something was different today. She actually felt good. Confident. Like she was somebody else... She slowly pulled herself out of bed, and almost fainted. Where was she? The room she was in was much like hers although the decoration and furniture, and overall feel of the room had been altered.

The walls were painted a pastel pink. On the left wall was a white vanity with a mirror, and a door. On the wall opposite was a study table, complete with drawers and a small bookshelf. Next to it was the bed she had just woken up from. The wall inbetween (opposite the door), had pillows against it and a small white rug was on the floor. Next to that was the door to a balcony. Next to the vanity, was a door, and Margaret was curious to see what was behind it. She crossed the room and froze.

Looking into the vanity mirror was Margaret, but looking back in the reflection was an entirely different girl. She had light brown hair that cascaded down her petite shoulders, and bright gray eyes. Her skin was flawless, not a blemish to be found. A prominent dimple formed on her cheek when she smiled. Her teeth were straight and perfect. The bruise on her nose from her basketball accident earlier were gone, too. 

Who was this girl?

She seemed familiar. Margaret stood in front of the mirror in awe. She was beautiful! But... where was Margaret's reflection? This girl wasn't her... or was it? Maybe she was dreaming. That would make sense. Deciding to play along with this strange dream, she opened the door. A light flickered on automatically, and Margaret almost fainted again. The room she was standing in was a walk-in closet. Only, this was more of a "drive-in" closet. It was almost the size of her normal room! In front of her, was a shelf of just shoes. Wedges, ballerinas, sandals, every type of shoe imaginable in every shade and style, in her size! Next to her was a rod, and hanging from it was tops. Just shirts. Button shirts, crop tops, and all types swam in her vision. On the other side of her were bottoms. Jeans in the upper rack, shorts below that, skirts below that, and more. In front of the shoes was a box of jewelry.

Was she really dreaming? Then it hit her. She had wished for this. She, Margaret Herman, had wished for all of this. Last night. But-- where was the necklace? She reached up and grabbed her neck, and undid the clasp. 

"You're a powerful thing aren't you?" she whispered, amazed. The gem was glowing faintly. It wasn't possible though. How could a necklace from some crazy old woman change her life? It didn't make any sense. But... either this was all a dream, or the gem actually did something. Something impossible, maybe even irreversible.

                                                                             ***

After taking a shower in a bathroom that looked nothing like hers, she dried herself with a towel and changed into a crop top and shorts. Margaret chose a pair of shoes and then made her way down to the kitchen in an unfamiliar yet familiar hallway and staircase. The living room was pretty, with upholstered chairs, a comfortable sofa, and drapery in light colors which gave the room a subtle hint of color. Modern, tasteful furniture was this way and that. She wandered into the kitchen. A man was sitting on the dining table, shoveling muesli, in a business suit. He was talking into his phone in a hushed voice. "Um..." who was this guy? Margaret thought of something to say. He turned around, and smiled a little.

She backed away. The man had a small mustache, and dark, hazel eyes and the James Bond haircut. Something about his eyes and nose seemed familiar, and the way he seemed to be showing so much emotion in his eyes. "D-dad?" she whispered in shock. He wasn't yelling, or wearing his scruffy hawaii shirt and capris, he was dressed in a business suit. Actually not looking like he just got out of bed. A smile spread to her face. Hurrying across the room, she got herself an apple and some muesli and sat down with him. Only two minutes later, her dad stood up and hung up the phone.

"Late for work," he mumbled, leaving the kitchen.

"Oh-- bye dad," Margaret replied, waving slightly. No reply, and then the door slammed after he walked out. Not very talkative, is he? she thought.

Moments later, she grabbed her backpack and made her way to school, not sure if she was ready to be "the popular girl.”

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Finally! I got my laptop now so updates will be coming fast :)