Wishes

By Emily Hutnyak

Wishes drifted past my balcony in a dreamy river of light. If only I could make more than a handful of them reality.

I tried to swallow the lump in my throat as I looked down through the host of floating lanterns at the streets below. It was impossible to see even a scrap of the cobbled pavement since the people were packed so tightly together.

The harvest festival was well underway, and even from my perch near the top of the palace spire, I could hear raucous cheering as the Release of Wishes continued.

So many of my people celebrated, daring to hope that in this time of abundance, their dearest wishes captured on paper would fly somewhere beyond the sunset and come true. I wished I had their faith. It was hard, because I felt like their happiness rested in my hands and not in some legend we all wanted to believe in.

My brother was down there somewhere, laughing with the commoners, hearing their woes, and comforting them wherever he went. As usual. The people would go home late at night, whispering stories of how a prince sang with them, participated in the games, and helped the little children light their lanterns.

It was kind of him. The people needed someone to look up to, and Rian was the perfect candidate. He’d not yet felt the crushing weight of a ruler’s responsibility, and if all went well, he never would.

Life had been kind in giving him the place of younger sibling, of ambassador instead of heir. Not that I was complaining.

Hadn’t my wish been that he would always stay so happy and free? Hadn’t I sent it before any other lanterns rose into the sky so that—if the legends really were true—it would have the best chance of being granted?

But I didn’t dare believe in children’s tales anymore, not with an empire to rule. I carried the weight of all these hopes and dreams on my shoulders—because those wishes would never come true if I didn’t help them do so. Upholding peace and prosperity was no easy task.

I had no place here in this festival. Not in the celebration or laughter, and certainly not in sending off wishes.

Yet I stayed on the balcony and watched the glowing paper lanterns drift by. Some had only childish sketches to adorn them. Others were scrawled over with delicate calligraphy. A few had both drawings and words.

By the time the sky was inky black, my fingers long ago went numb from gripping the carved stone railing. The lights spun closer to me, and already regretting it, I strained to catch glimpses of the words they bore.

I wish for lots of food…

I was trying to provide that.

The next lantern danced past, covered in one word over and over. Happiness. The lump returned to my throat, and I followed that wish with my eyes till it was too far away to tell it apart from the others.

“Good fortune,” I whispered, half to the flimsy craft and half to the soul who’d sent it.

The wind picked up, bitingly cold. I shivered and turned away, back towards the warmth of the palace. I’d been out long enough.

The new strength of the breeze carried a wish over the edge of my railing. It bumped into my head, then bobbed around my shoulder.

I caught the lantern more out of shock than intention. Before I could push it back into the sky, the handwriting caught my eye. I bit my lip and stared at my brother’s thick handwriting.

A tight place in my chest fractured and melted as I read his words once, twice, three times. Tears pricked at my eyes as the golden light washed over me, feeling far warmer than I knew it was.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered as I nudged Rian’s wish into the sky, where the last of the lanterns joined the sea of stars. “I didn’t realize I’d forgotten.” But this, too, is a wish I’ll do my best to help come true.

It dipped down to face me like a friendly butterfly as it floated away, the message visible again.

I wish my sister would remember how to smile.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Emily Hutnyak is a young writer with dreams that touch the sky and an overactive imagination. She spins stories about teens like herself finding their place in the world and tales of the light and hope that can be found even in the darkest of places. When she’s not writing, you can generally find her hanging out with friends and family, reading, or, on rare occasions, venturing outside to get some fresh air and sunshine.

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