Charley sat in quiet contemplation on the sofa, in his little house in the woods, a cup of tea in one hand, contemplating the dreams that he had been having over the last few months. He was thinking of all the time that he felt lost and lonely almost empty in some way; though what did he expect really when two men had come along with a lovely lady several months ago and removed one of his hands. He had feared that day that his soul would be lost in much the same way that the hand had been, that they had taken a whole bit of him away and so he had done the only thing he could think of, and had cursed it. Not that he supposed now that it would in actual fact work, these things never did really.
But then there were these dreams. The ones that had in a way made him happy and at the same time haunted him for the past few days, unsure of what they were.
In the first few months he had dreamt of an old man, then a young sailor. And most recently it had been a fairly old family; though it was the family who disturbed him the most.
These dreams had happened in stages.
Monday, he sat and watched as a small family picked up his hand and wished for 200 pounds, (what these were he didn’t in the slightest understand). With this wish came a great roar of music, dark and sinister that the family did not seem to be able to hear. They did, however, see the finger move and in their entire surprise scream and through it on the floor. Charley found this all very amusing and couldn’t help but role into a fit of laughter.
When a few minutes later he regained composure he though back, things did not end there. Something came out of the hand and took him to a factory where, who he could only assume was the son of the family, was caught in the mechanisms of a machine which slowly drew in his entire body bit by bit, nothing could stop him being swallowed and no-one tried to until it was too late.
It seemed the family would get their wish though as he watched three men in a room hurriedly talking about the catastrophe that had occurred and what it would take to keep the family quiet . £200 seemed to be sufficient. The man with the very white face then proceeded to the front door of the house he had been in before, though all be it very slow indeed.
The mother cried and yelled and the father sat in a complete stupor. “Stupid family” thought charley to himself.
The second dream hadn’t come until a week later. He saw the father again, very white faced and very scared indeed. Slowly he held the hand and in a very hesitant voice said “I wish that my son was alive” very poor wording for a wish but in any case it had happened. The same music occurred but this time as he watched there was something coming out of his hand. Almost a glow which carried him out of the window down the garden path and some three miles to a very large cemetery he watched as the earth on one of the graves began to move. It shuddered and shuddered very slowly as if there was a mole underneath. As the surface started to crack Charley knew that it was not a mole but the fingers of a very dead young man. The hands reached out of the grave and the disfigured body of the son appeared mangled and not entirely still there. The sickening feeling in Charley’s stomach began to rise as he realised that the boy was returning to his father just as he had wished for but not really in the same state that he had hoped for.
The sickening feeling in Charley’s stomach stayed until lunch the next day, which was quite disturbing as breakfast was always a favourite of his.
The following dream occurred a lot faster than the previous one, Charley was in fact napping in the garden in the following afternoon sun.
The trees had begun to shade him as he drifted off
The son from the previous night was knocking on the door of the family house hoping to be let in. The father on the other side of the door was pleading with his wife in an hysterical manor not to let the boy in. The mother on the other hand, though she sounded slightly unhinged, was willing to let the boy in though in a rather comical turn was not big enough to reach the latch in order for him to do so.
The voices continued for a good five minutes and then Charley was thrown to the other side of the door. And in a very hushed hurried and petrified whisper the man wished, the mother flung the door open, but nothing. There was no longer any boy, there was no noise and the mother was left kneeling on the door step with a broken heart and a lost look on her face.
That look thought Charley will remain there forever as a reminder to her about what wishes can do.
The following weeks the dreams were gone and Charley began to realise that he was ok without his hand, it had after all been green, and where was the fun in that when he couldn’t use it. The trees were still easy to climb and the men opened his bananas.