By Beka Gremikova
The wishing tree stood right where Ella had said it would. Ryn stumbled through the graveyard, stopping before a small white headstone. Behind it, a tall, slender tree stood, its dark green leaves veined in gold. Doves cooed in its branches, nestled close to one another as they slept.
It won’t grant every wish, Ella had warned her. But… Her eyes had gone soft, her lips trembling ever so slightly. Sometimes, it offers more than a wish.
More than a wish? What could that be? Ryn didn’t need anything like that. She just wanted to get rid of the Blue. She rubbed at her aching eyes. She hadn’t slept a wink in the two weeks since she’d returned from her travels for Moma’s funeral. In the haze of funeral arrangements, she hadn’t even gotten to see any of Ella and Charlin’s children yet.
She sat before the little tree. Its leaves rustled in a soft, chill breeze that sent tingles down Ryn’s neck in the evening quiet. It was still so small… Perhaps too small for her request. But Ella had wished for and received three gorgeous dresses to catch Charlin’s eye five years ago…
She had to try.
The Blue kept its grip on her as tightly as ever, making every word she uttered feel so much heavier. She glanced down at her trembling hands, at the midnight-blue smudge that perpetually tinted her skin. The Blue. Only Moma had ever seen her body’s outward reflection of her inner, haunting sadness—because Moma had the Blue, too.
It will be all right, Ryn, Moma would tell her. The Blue doesn’t get the final say—you can still thrive despite it. You will have many hard days, but you can also help spread hope to so many suffering in silence.
But Moma was gone now, and it was difficult to believe her words when those closest to Ryn—Ella and Charlin—could sleep soundly every night. When they weren’t struck by sudden, unprompted attacks of sadness… How could she ever be anything like them?
Ryn’s throat closed. She missed sleep. She missed her job, traveling to collect and share stories with everyone she met. She missed Moma so much she could barely breathe. She knew she needed to keep going, to leave again, to travel the world and spread her stories. She just didn’t know how. She felt… stuck.
And it was the Blue’s fault.
She inhaled, exhaled, shook out her arms. She’d never wished upon a tree before. What if she did it wrong?
Something rustled close behind her, disturbing the peace of the graveyard. Ryn leapt to her feet, spinning around.
A little girl in an oversized purple dress gazed up at her with large, doleful eyes. Nirabeth, Ella’s youngest daughter. “Auntie Ryn,” she whispered, “Moma said to let you have some alone time here, but…” She swallowed and ducked her head. “I haven’t gotten to see you yet.”
Ryn clutched her chest, sinking to the ground. “Oh, Ira, I’m so sorry.” She stretched out her arms and Ira ran to her, clasping Ryn’s neck.
“Is this my moma’s wishing tree?” Ira pressed her cheek against Ryn’s. Her skin was clammy. “The one that gave her all the beautiful dresses for Doda’s ball?”
“Yes, it is,” Ryn said absently, leaning back to take a careful look at Ira’s face. Her heart hammered. Three years ago when Ryn left for her latest storytelling voyage, Nirabeth’s cheeks had been rosy-red and gleaming with health. She’d been a bouncy two-year old. Now, her face was sunken, and her skin a light, mottled cobalt. “Ira, my darling…” She stroked Ira’s hair. “How are you feeling?”
Ira squirmed. “I don’t know, Auntie. I feel… sad, sometimes.” Her lips pursed and wobbled. “A lot of the times. And I don’t know why.” Her eyes met Ryn’s. “My skin’s like yours now, Auntie. All blue.” Ira’s eyes were glazed, almost vacant. As though she were terrified to feel too deeply. Terrified of a wave of emotion that might drag her too far into despair to return. “Can the Wishing Tree take it away?” Ira whispered. “Is that why you came?”
Ryn shivered. “I don’t know. But… we can try.” She sat down with her back against the smooth tree trunk, and Ira settled in her lap. The silence in the graveyard deepened. “I—no, we—wish—”
“—for the Blue to go away!” Ira burst out. “Please!”
Please, Ryn echoed silently, and her arms tightened around Ira. Together, they looked up into the branches.
The tree seemed to straighten, and a bright, golden light encompassed its shimmering leaves. That same light surrounded Ira and Ryn, brushing their skin, caressing their hair. Power tingled through Ryn’s limbs… but her skin remained as before.
The Blue didn’t go away.
Ira sobbed quietly.
“Why?” Ryn whispered. “Why couldn’t you…?” She trailed off as light-sluiced leaves drifted from the tree, twirling into her lap, brushing her skin. A tingling sensation tickled wherever the leaves touched—through her fingers, coursing up her limbs, nestling into every aching nook and cranny of her body.
Ira’s sobs quieted, and she sat up, her eyes wide. She stretched out her hands to catch the falling leaves, gasping.
“Do you feel it?” Ryn whispered. “That… tingling?”
Ira nodded emphatically. “It feels tickly, like feathers!”
Ryn trembled under a sudden weight and warmth—overwhelming assurance of comfort and love. Something surrounded her… Something she didn’t dare to name. She shut her eyes tight, but the presence didn’t leave. It lingered, soothing the cracks in her soul, whispering against the crushing weight of her mind.
Ryn sighed, resting her head back against the tree trunk. Ira jumped up and frolicked amongst the falling leaves, her blue face bright. Hopeful. Alive. Assured. Despite the truth of her condition. Despite the sorrow that would come.
“More than a wish,” Ryn whispered. “Moma was right.” The Blue doesn’t get the final say.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Beautiful story. Thank you.
Dawww, thank you Katie! I appreciate that!
It is beautiful. I’m going to miss all your stories now that you’re part of the staff.
Thank you so much, Arlan! Never fear, I’ll still have stories releasing! I’ve got five more coming out for the Prismatic season, and then I’m hoping to have a few Staff Saturday features if my submissions are accepted for Casting Call. :-)
“Only Moma had ever seen her body’s outward reflection of her inner, haunting sadness—because Moma had the Blue, too.”
Thank you for writing this story, Beka <3 This is such a beautiful reminder.
*hugs you* Thank *you* for reading, fren. <3 I'm glad it could uplift you!
I know a lot of people, my sister included, who have spent most of their lives with one degree of depression or another. Thank you for giving them hope and beauty.
Thank you so much, Susan. This is a very personal story for me, and I’m glad I could portray it in a respectful way. <3
That’s a wonderful story about mental health awareness. It made me tear up. <3
Thank you for sharing your gift of stories with the world, Beka!!!
*hands you tissues* Thank you frennnnn. *huggles you*
So sweet! Thanks for always being so heartfelt in your stories :)
I almost missed the famous fairytale reference and a certain color of a gown turned “inside out.” Wonderful story. Thank you.
I love this so much 😭😭😭💙💙💙
Thank you for a beautiful, touching story. I know it will stay with me a long time.
Very true. Sorrow might be more pervasive that joy, but it will never outlast it.
A sweet story that offers hope for those dealing with depression. Lovely.
Beautiful story, Beka <3 thank you for sharing.