Where Do Wishes Go?

(This is a scene from a book I’m currently working on. For a little background, Rachel and Alice are eleven years old.)

Rachel stared at the field full of flowers with carefully considered ambivalence. It was the type of field you only see in childish memories and Hollywood: bright green grass dotted with yellow and white dandelions, violets, clover, and forget-me-nots, surrounded by a ring of trees that led to a mysterious forest, and a slight hill as if the ground hoped to look out over the trees. Rachel, of course, was at the top of the hill, sitting in a small ring of dandelions. She loved to pluck the yellow ones, dab the sap out onto the ground, and stick them in as many places as they’d fit in her hair. But this time, she pondered over the white dandelions with a stern, furrowed brow.

Her eyes crossed as they focused on the miniature umbrellas that detached and floated away, carrying an even more miniature brown seed. The wind blew just hard enough to carry them off one by one, some of them floating well above the forest before finally dropping somewhere between the canopy of leaves. She wondered if any of them would float all the way to her house from there, if they could sojourn on the tree tops awaiting a swift gust and aim themselves in a proper direction. She wondered if they wondered about the places she could go without the wind.

But mostly, she wondered about the wishes they carried when a full dandelion head was huffed and puffed by anyone daring enough to dream. Rachel saw Alice come through the tree line on the path the Children made during their frequent visits to the field, but she still sat there in wonderment. This matter was far too pressing to be distracted, even by dear friends.

Alice was out of breath when she finally reached the top of the hill. “You’re going to ruin your eyes before long if you keep that up,” she said between gasps.

Rachel smirked ever so slightly while maintaining her intent gaze and replied, “Where do you think the wishes go when we blow them onto the little umbrella-ettes?” She twirled the tiny flower between her fingers before looking up at Alice, who was standing, arms crossed and tapping her foot.

Alice asked, “Do you really think breathing produces wishes that cling to the seeds of weeds?”

“What happens if I go to make a wish and accidentally breathe in too quickly and the fluff goes up my nose? Is that what happens to adults when they give up on their dreams? Maybe it traps the dreams in between their brain and the world and never has a chance to escape…”

Alice raised an eyebrow, “So what happens when you sneeze? Does your dream dry up in a booger?”

Alice and Rachel looked at each other in a pointed stare a little while longer until Rachel rolled on her back, giggling. Alice tried to maintain composure but finally fell to her knees, imitating a sneeze as they both yelled, “Ew! BOOGER!”

Fluff

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