water-sculptures

Touch

A #microfiction for peeps who have very specific questions about wishes…

As soon as I made the wish and my robes became a shimmering prison around me, I knew that I was doomed.

I was not stupid. I knew that wishes were vindictive beasts, best addressed with extreme caution if at all, but my kingdom was in such pain. Crushed in the grip of our neighbours - who wished to squeeze out every golden drop until they owned us - we desperately needed funds.

My people were *starving*.

So I made a rash decision.

As we slowly ruled out the options to preserve my life - fruit turned to sculpture, water become gold dust, liquid frozen in the needle as it touched my skin - I had them bring me the largest objects they could and I pressed my flesh against them and felt their atoms fizz.

As I slowly died of thirst, my palace began to resemble a very shiny mausoleum. But, in truth, it was a reserve. Over the course of three agonising days, we put my country back on the gold standard.

As it became clear I hadn’t long left, they laid me in my bed, cocooned in wealth. My daughter came to visit me and the tears dried gilt on my cheeks.

She reached for my hand without thinking.

My eyes clogged with sharp, flaking leaf, I lurched out of bed. Leaving a trail of 24-carat behind me, I felt my way to the lake in the palace gardens.

They still haven’t finished excavating it.

I know, because they haven’t excavated me yet. It has been a very lon time.

And still I feel the golden tears drying on my face.

candiiadolce  asked:

The brunette settles back on the bench head inclined as she tapped away at her cell. A stray strand fell into her face to her annoyance, so she tucked it away. Today was pretty humid with occasional gusts of cool air. Completely immersed into the electronical rectangle, indistinctive conversations, busy streets full of cars, she paid no mind to. The extraordinary sculpture sprouted water had been located in front of her, the sounds of rushing water only added to the tranquil atmosphere.

Feliciano was having a lovely stroll in the park. It was one of his favourite things to do and one of his favourite places to be, not only because there were plenty of animals around for him to pet, but also because walking in the park was exercise that didn’t feel like exercise! He hummed to himself as he walked, watching people go by and trying to guess what their life story was. It was a fun little game he liked to play, though he paused his game when his eyes fell upon the girl on the bench. She didn’t look very happy, and that wasn’t okay in Feliciano’s book! So, the Italian man skipped over, plopping himself right beside her on the bench and whistling happily. After a moment he looked over at her, “hello!” he chirped cheerfully, “it’s a really nice day, isn’t it?”