Twisted Wishes by M.L. Bullock

Author:M.L. Bullock
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fairy tale retelling, dark fantasy, fairy tale, young adult fantasy
Publisher: M.L. Bullock
Published: 2025-02-26T00:00:00+00:00

​Chapter Nine

Beyond my drawn curtains and the thick hush of midnight, the wind sighed through the empty streets, a low moan weaving through the stillness. I lay sprawled on my bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling where the faint glow of a nightlight cast shifting shadows—restless ghosts mirroring the chaos festering in my life. Each time I tried to close my eyes,

Dad’s pacing footsteps haunted the halls, or that torn note from his room flared in my mind: THE FINAL WISH MUST BE MADE. The words burned, a brand seared into my thoughts, relentless as the ache pulsing beneath the bandage on my wrist.

I rolled over, clutching a pillow to my chest, its worn fabric a frail shield against the dread coiling inside me. If the wand had gripped him so fiercely, what hope did I have to pull him back? The cursed mark throbbed, a cruel echo of the rod’s twisted power, its cold tendrils snaking through my skin. I swallowed hard, fighting tears that stung hot and bitter. Mom would have known what to do, I thought, the old wound tearing open anew. But Mom was gone—stolen by a freak accident that left Dad a hollow shell and me wondering, in the quiet dark, if he secretly blamed me for walking away when she could not.

Just as my mind spiraled deeper into that abyss, a soft tap sounded at the window. I jolted upright, heart thudding like a drum in my chest. Another tap followed, sharper, insistent. Peering through a slit in the curtain, I glimpsed a figure outside—lean, shadowed. My first, panicked thought was Dad?—but the silhouette was too slight. CC! The realization hit, a mix of relief and alarm surging through me.

I hurried over, easing the window open with care. A gust of cold night air rushed in, sharp with the scent of damp asphalt and fallen leaves, rustling the stillness. CC’s face emerged in the gap, breath misting in the chill, his dark hair tousled by the wind. “Mira,” he whispered, casting a furtive glance around the yard’s inky sprawl. “Are you okay?”

My pulse fluttered, torn between the warmth of his concern and the danger of his presence. If Dad caught him tapping my window at midnight, the meltdown would rival the wand’s worst—rage or worse, something I could not predict. “CC, what are you—how did you even know where I live?”

He offered a faint, apologetic smile, shadows softening his edges. “I asked around. Do not worry—no one pried much. You... you vanished after school, and the way you looked...” He trailed off, shifting his weight, boots scuffing the earth. “I had a feeling you needed a friend.”

My throat tightened, a knot of gratitude and fear. “That is... kind of you, but you should not be here. My dad—he is not himself lately.” An understatement, bitter on my tongue, barely scraping the surface of the truth.

He nodded, his gaze steady and serious. “I know you said you were dealing with things. I just want you to know you are not alone.

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