Under the Wishing Well

1 || Tire Swings

Do you believe in magic? Do you believe in fate? Do you believe in 'meant to be'?

I don't. And I've always wondered about the science behind wells that grant wishes. Maybe it's the magic, or the secret under the wishing well.

I looked at the smeared golden words on my old notebook, and gently closed the diary. My thoughts travelled back, through memories lanes and emotion jumping around, until I pushed open the rustic golden gates at the very end, I was back.

The gold glint of the gates was concealed by dust, but through the layers of old you could imagine the glory it once had. I find myself younger again, in that red hoodie and those neon-coloured shoes. The little girl who found herself enthralled by the enchanting garden, and never forgot the place once. The little girl who started it all.

I remember that the garden had an eerie glow. At the very centre of it stood a willow tree, meek and tall, I used to wonder how it was hidden among the city as it was taller than a lot of buildings around the neighbourhood. A small swing set made of tires hung on a thick branch, which translated into the most eye-catching object in the garden.

I ran across the patch of grass and swung on the tire as if no one was watching. After I got tired, I moved on to tracing the patch of flowers growing on the walls of the garden. I would go on about the colours of Autumn, but we have a story to tell.

While I was drawing on the walls with my finger as if I didn't have a care for the world, someone else looked at me with disbelief as my fingers danced around the cold stone bricks. I never figured out how long he stared at me, and how long had I been doing that, but I all knew was that when I turned around, he stared at me with the bluest eyes I've seen.

I'd remember our first conversation even when it is now sixty years from that day, I remember it as if it were just yesterday." What are you doing?"

"I'm tracing the flowers on the wall," I said and rolled my eyes, laughing at the stupidity of the boy.

"What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to come here, so I did."

"You can't just do something because you want to do it," he said, crossing his arms in front of his green-shirted chest. I remember filtering through his words and only listening to parts I wanted to hear from his speech, mainly because I was too busy staring at his mesmerising blue eyes.

"Yes I can."

"No you can't."

"Yes I can.

"Stop arguing with me, you're the one who trespassed into someone's garden first."

"Wait, this is your garden?"

"Not exactly, but I don't need to tell you the details."

"Please! I want to know!" I begged him.

"Okay fine, follow me," he sighed and started walking down the paved stones to beyond the huge willow tree in the middle. I trailed along, cackling at how easy it was to convince this boy.

We stood by an ancient looking well as the boy explained," This is a magical wishing well. I'm in charge of operating it. You know, occasionally clearing some spider webs and maybe changing the water once in a while." He pulled the crank and the rope started moving." Do you know how a wishing well works?"