Her Heart's Desire [Short Story]

“Take my hands," the old lady said. She smiled, her face folding into a million creases.

Sarah grasped the leathery palms, barely daring to brush the skin.

“Now close your eyes. And tell me your heart’s desire.”

The world blinked out with a flutter of eyelids. Sarah squeezed down on her thoughts as if they could shoot down her brain stem and into the crone across from her.

She whispered her lifelong dream and felt the rush of it on her breath, filling the room with the murmur of restless wings. The old lady gave a satisfied sigh.

“There you are, girly.” The witch pulled her hands back and popped her knuckles. “That’ll be one hundred twenty-three dollars.”

Sarah cracked open one eye then the next and looked around the room.

The world didn’t look any different. The candles still sputtered in their holders, making their shadows play across the back wall. For a moment, the shadows almost looked like slavering wolves, but then they resolved themselves into two figures, one upright and one hunched, seated across from each other.

The old lady still stared at her, with patience draining from her eyes.

“Oh, s-sorry,” Sarah stammered. She fumbled in her purse and counted out the cash with shaking fingers. Could it really be so easy?

The witch gave a wink while Sarah backed out of the velvet curtain. She caught the bus home with the last of her change and flopped onto her mattress on the floor. Netflix was calling, and before she knew it an entire season of the latest original drama had gone by.

The next morning, Sarah headed to the closest coffee shop. On the walk, she tried to really feel how she was feeling. Normal, really. Maybe a bit more relaxed.

There he stood... the dark-haired barista with the blinding smile. When he handed over her coffee, their fingers brushed and she could have sworn he flashed those dimples just for her. She even managed to say thank you without stuttering.

She carried her latte over to a table. Just before she raised it to her lips, she noticed the heart carved in foamy swoops and whirls on top.

Sarah almost smiled, but she mustn’t get distracted. She reached out to stir the mug, dissolving the heart in a little whirlpool, and licked the cream off her fingertip. Then, she opened her laptop and pulled up local job listings.

She squared her shoulders and took a deep breath in, feeling confidence swell in her chest. Today was the day. Things were changing!

She scanned the first job description. Salary, benefits, results-oriented, team player. Why, this sounded pretty cool!

“Send resume,” she clicked. And again and again and again.

On the walk home, her surroundings faded to a muted blur while she dreamt of office desks and water coolers and spinny chairs. An orange leaf tumbled down and landed in her hair, all crisp edges and earthy autumn scent. She brushed it to the ground and walked quicker in her impatience to get home.

Sarah threw open her front door and strode past the dirty dishes and wadded-up clothes to the easel by the far wall.

She thumbed through her canvases. Dark misted forests with blobs of paint giving the impression of twisted creatures in the shadows. Crumbling castles with clawlike vines choking the old stones.

Oh, yes, she believed in magic. Now it was time to see whether the witch’s had worked.

The paintbrush met her hand in a familiar kiss of wood grain on her fingertips. She ran her thumb over the bristles and closed her eyes and felt… nothing. Absolutely nothing.

No images burned into her brain. No maddening desire seized her to get them out, out, out so that others could see the way she saw. Her heart beat steady, totally and blissfully uninspired.

Thank heavens! She had found the last magic she would ever need.

Sarah felt dizzy with relief while she stooped to pull a trash bag out from under the sink and swept her paints into it. The canvasses followed, and finally the paintbrush that she still gripped in her hand.

The bag made a satisfying thud as it dropped into the dumpster.

Sarah pulled out her phone and punched in a number. She knew the ringing would terrify him since it normally signaled an anxiety attack or other existential crisis.

“Hey daddy,” she said. “No, no, I’m ok. Actually, better than ok. I applied to some good jobs today, and I think I’ve got a good chance of getting one. And of keeping it too.”

She listened to his brightening tone.

“Yeah, I decided to give up on being an artist. For real this time... it just wasn’t working out.”

Sarah turned and looked out the window. It was already late evening, and the sun melted the sky in a wash of amaranth and tangerine and... Huh, the windows need washing. She shifted the phone to her other ear.

“Mmhm, I can’t even remember why I wanted to paint in the first place...”

---

“Oh, it’s already working!” the girl exclaimed. She wiped her sweaty palms on the navy blue skirt of her school uniform. “I just pictured his face and my chest didn’t hurt.”

The witch smiled tersely. “That’s nice deary. Have a good evening.”

She made a flapping motion with her hands to herd the young girl out of the room. Then she pulled her stool over to the corner and clambered atop to reach into the ceiling rafters, where her wish-extraction spell had taken form.

She clucked her tongue. “There, there.”

Her hands emerged from the shadows cradling a bird with deep red plumage and a fluttering heart. The unrequited-love ones always seemed nervous. She carried the creature to an adjacent room and put it into one of the cages there.

“I wish Dennis Chang would love me back,” the bird whispered breathlessly to its new neighbor.

The other bird ruffled its black feathers, revealing a sparkling undercoat of stars. “I want to be an astronaut,” it chirped back.

---

Thanks for reading! Unlike my first story, this one took more than an hour to write thanks to the wonderful editing assistance of @rhondak over at the PAL Discord Fiction Workshop. Image credit Jonathan McIntosh, CC.

Also, this is not an endorsement to give up on your dreams, haha. It just sometimes feels like magicking them away would make things easier.
-Katie @therovingreader