The Land of Stories: The Wishing Spell (15 page)

I don’t know how, why, or where you found this journal, but since it has found its way into your possession, I hope that it will be of use to you.

What I am about to tell you is going to sound ludicrous, but I ask that you allow me to explain. Had I not seen it with my own eyes, I would have never believed it myself.

I am but a simple man from a simple village in the Charming Kingdom, but I have been to another
world. It’s a world with people and technologies that our world has only dreamed of and places we can only imagine. I know it seems absurd, but I promise you that an extraordinary place exists out there. We just can’t see it.

During my visit, among the many things I experienced, I fell in love. I fell into a love so deep it was unlike anything I’ve ever known.

I never thought this kind of love was real. It’s as if I am no longer living for myself anymore, but for her. So, I must find a way back. I must find a way to see her again.

The first time I traveled into the other world was simple. A fairy that knew of its existence allowed me to travel with her. She warned me not to get attached to anything or anyone, but while my brain was obedient to her request, my heart betrayed it.

The fairy has hence banned me from traveling with her. So, this time, I must find my way into the other world on my own.

Naturally, I didn’t know where to start. How does one go about traveling into another world? Who was I even to ask? How would I even be able to ask without appearing like a lunatic? Cinderellian society is very judgmental, and I surely would have been ridiculed if my mission were discovered.

I came to the conclusion that I’d have to ask someone who was crazy in their own right, so no one
would believe them if they spoke of what I had inquired. I needed someone I could trust, but who would never be trusted by the world.

I figured such a person didn’t exist, and I lost hope, until I remembered the Traveling Tradesman. He was infamous for finding naïve children in the woods and trading their items of value for items he claimed to be magical. He was rumored to have given Jack the beans that grew his beanstalk.

Surely if anyone had heard of another world, it would be him. He was on the move at all times, since warrants for his arrest had been issued in all the kingdoms. He would be nearly impossible to find, but then again, my entire quest was virtually impossible.

Late one night, I traveled to a tavern up the stream from my home. There I befriended two farmers, and I proceeded to buy them round after round of drinks. After we had had a few laughs about childhood adventures and adolescent mistakes, I asked them if they had ever heard of the Traveling Tradesmen.

They both grew very quiet and were almost offended by the question. I assured them it was purely out of curiosity, and I wasn’t accusing them of anything. I purchased another round of drinks, and after they were consumed the farmers confessed they had done business with him in earlier years.

“I traded two goats for a watering can that was supposed to magically water all my crops by itself,” one
of the farmers said. “The damn thing never worked, and it had a leak! It was the biggest mistake of my life.”

“I traded two cows for a goose he told me would lay golden eggs!” the other claimed. “The goose was male! He gave me a gander!”

They tried convincing me to call off my search for him, but after one final round of drinks, they told me of the routes he covertly took through the woods.

I must have searched every patch of trees in the Charming Kingdom. Finally, in the woods just south of the Red Riding Hood Kingdom border, I found him.

The Traveling Tradesman was an odd, elderly, disheveled man. He wore several layers of raggedy clothing, and he had a long, gray beard. There were dark circles under his eyes, and one of the eyes wandered to the left, so it was difficult to tell what or whom he was looking at.

He traveled with a large cart that was pulled by a single mule. He was making a deal with a small boy holding a chicken when I first saw him.

“Wear this bear claw and you’ll grow up to be the strongest boy in the village,” the Tradesman told the boy, and then placed a necklace with a large bear claw around his neck and took the chicken from him.

The boy smiled and ran off. The Tradesman placed the chicken in the back of his cart. He must have made other trades that day, because he had already collected two geese and a pig.

“Are you a friend or a foe?” the Tradesman asked me.

“A friend, I believe,” I said.

“Oh, good,” he said with a jolly clap. “Then what may I do for you, friend? Would you like a bag of magic pebbles that grow into boulders? It’ll only cost you a duck! Or perhaps you’d like to trade a swine for a loaf of bread that’ll make you never be hungry again?”

“No, thank you,” I said cautiously. “I’ve come to ask you for advice.”

“Advice?” the Tradesman said. The eyebrow above his wandering eye rose. “That, my friend, is something no one has ever asked me for. What do you wish to know?”

“I am wondering…” I started, but wasn’t sure how to put it into words. “What is the farthest distance you’ve traveled?”

The Tradesman scratched his beard and thought about it.

“Well, I’d honestly say there isn’t a place in this world I haven’t been,” he told me. “I’ve traveled from the Southwest to the Northeast and from the Southeast to the Northwest. I’ve been from the bottom of the Corner Kingdom to the top of the Sleeping Kingdom and from the tip of the Elf Empire to the coast of the Fairy Kingdom—”

“What about farther than that?” I interrupted him, fearing he might continue listing every journey he had ever taken.

“Farther than that?” Both of the Tradesman’s eyebrows were raised now. “What’s farther than that? Only ocean is beyond that, and that’s it.”

“What about a different world? Have you ever heard of one or how to travel to one?” I finally asked.

The Tradesman got a funny look in his eyes—or should I say eye.

“Young man, I’ve been all over the world, and I have never seen any suggestion of there being another,” he said.

This topic upset him somehow, and he hopped aboard his cart and took the reins of his mule.

“Wait! Please don’t go!” I pleaded.

“You youngsters always take pleasure in harassing an old man. Well, I won’t allow it,” he said.

He began to travel up the path. I was so desperate, I stood in front of his mule and was nearly trampled.

“I mean you no harm, old man!” I assured him. “You don’t understand! I’ve been to another world, another place and time, and have seen extraordinary things! I need to go back! It may be the greatest wish I will ever have.”

My arms were spread out, and I fell to my knees. I felt like an imbecile, confessing a preposterous need to a preposterous man.

The Tradesman sat still with his good eye fixed on me.

“Is it truly the most desired wish in your heart?” he asked.

“Yes!” I pleaded. “I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.”

“If it’s a wish you desire, then there’s only one thing you need,” he said.

“What is that?” I asked him.

“The Wishing Spell,” the Tradesman said.

At first I thought he was joking.

“The Wishing Spell?” I asked him. “You mean the childish legend?”

“It’s as real as the nose on my face,” the Tradesman said. “Many men have spent their lives trying to obtain it. Legend has it that if you collect a series of objects and place them in close proximity, the collector’s one true wish will be granted.”

I didn’t know whether or not to believe him. Perhaps he was harassing me now. My brain was critical, but my heart chose to learn more.

“And how do I find these items?” I asked.

“I don’t have the slightest idea,” he said.

Now I was frustrated with him. All of that explanation for nothing! I turned my back on him and began heading back home.

“But I know someone who does!” the Tradesman called after me.

“Who?” I demanded.

“I never trade for free,” the Tradesman said, and extended an open palm toward me.

I placed a few gold coins in his hand. He kept his hand extended, and I placed a few more coins into it until he was satisfied.

“Her name is Hagatha,” the Tradesman said.

“Where can I find her?”

“Take this path west into the Dwarf Forests, past the three boulders, and then follow the smoke,” the Tradesman said, and that was all the direction he gave. He took the reins of his mule and traveled away from me.

Had I been thinking clearly, I would have chased after him and asked for more instructions, but instead I took off running toward the Dwarf Forests.

I had never been inside the Dwarf Forests before. I had been told of their dangers since I was a child, and once I was there I knew why I had been warned. The trees grew so thick and close that someone could be standing three feet away from you and you would never know they were there.

It took two days to find the three boulders the Tradesman had spoken of.

They were three large rocks that stuck straight out of the ground and were tilted in a peculiar position. I thought perhaps they might have been pointing at something, so I lowered my head to look in the direction they pointed.

The boulders pointed directly between two trees separated just enough that you could see a wide patch of the sky, and in this patch I could see smoke!

I ran toward the source of the smoke. Wherever it was coming from was completely off the path, and I almost seriously injured myself jumping over bushes and tree roots as I went.

Occasionally, I could see the sky through the tree branches and could tell if I was off track. I must have traveled in circles for hours. Every time I thought I was just about to find the place from which the smoke came, the wind would shift it in another direction.

I was lost. Every way I turned looked exactly the same. I felt as if the forest had swallowed me.

The sun was setting, and the smoke became harder to see. I started to panic; there was no shelter in sight. I thought for sure a treacherous beast would find me during the night and make a feast out of me.

I started running again. I could barely see where I was going at this point. I could hear howling in the distance. I tripped and fell straight through a large thornbush.

I landed hard in the grass on other side of the thornbush. I was scraped, scratched, and bleeding.

I got to my feet and looked around; I was standing in a large, circular clearing in the forest surrounded by a large wall of thornbush. In the
center of this clearing was a small hut with a hay roof and a brick chimney. And rising out of this chimney was the smoke I had been following.

No wonder it had been so hard to find! I must have been wandering in circles around it, not knowing it was hidden behind the thornbush.

I approached the hut slowly. It had one door and two windows, and that was all. I went to knock on the door, but it burst open before I had a chance.

“Who are you?” said the woman who emerged from the hut.

I knew from the second I saw her that it was Hagatha. She looked like a human tree stump. She was short and wore a brown hooded cloak. Deep wrinkles circled her face, and one of her eyes was squinted. Her nose was one of the smallest I had ever seen and was neighbored by a gigantic mole.

“Are you Hagatha?” I asked her.

“How did you find me?” she snapped.

“I tripped through the thornbush,” I said.

“But how did you know I was here?” she asked. Her squinted eye squinted even more.

“The Traveling Tradesman,” I told her. “He said you knew of the Wishing Spell.”

Hagatha grunted and sighed at the same time. Her lips wrinkled and looked me up and down. Reluctantly, she gestured me to follow her inside.

“Come in, come in!” Hagatha said.

The inside of the hut was an utter mess. There were vials of strange liquids everywhere; some bubbled, some glistened, some steamed. There were dozens of glass jars containing the strangest things: dead and alive reptiles, insects of every species, even a glass jar of various eyeballs. Even though they had been plucked out from their owner’s lids, I swear one of them blinked at me.

I was surprised to see how many animals were inside the hut as well; everything from geese and chickens to hummingbirds and monkeys all resided in cages. They were all restless, prisoners no doubt.

“Have a seat,” Hagatha instructed. She pointed to a chair at the end of a table so large that it almost took up the entire hut.

“I see you are a collector of sorts,” I said.

She didn’t welcome the conversation. She ignored me and collected a few items around the room, a bowl here, a vial there.

“The thornbush surrounding your home is very clever,” I said. “It must keep out most unwanted visitors.”

“Most,” she said, and glared at me. “That thornbush is from the Sleeping Kingdom. I planted it here and it grew around my home in a perfect circle, just as it grew around the castle while the queen was
in her one-hundred-year slumber. You are the first to break through it.”

“I do apologize—”

“This will cost you fifteen gold coins,” Hagatha said, and took a seat across from me.

“For what?” I asked.

“You want to know what the Wishing Spell items are, don’t you?” she asked. “That is why you’re here, is it not?”

I reached into my pocket and laid all the coins I had left on the table. Unfortunately, doing business with the Tradesman had left me short.

“I only have fourteen coins,” I told her.

Hagatha did not look pleased. “You stupid youth and your wishes. Very well,” she said, and scooped up all the coins with one swipe.

She placed a bowl in front of her and emptied the contents of two vials into it: one red liquid, the other blue.

“One eye of an eagle, the wings of a pixie, and the heart of a newt,” Hagatha said, and added these items into the bowl. “Plus three drops of giant blood, the big toe of an ogre, and a straw of gold hay. That completes the potion.”

With all the ingredients added, the liquid in the bowl started to smoke and glow. Hagatha leaned over it and breathed it in. She closed her eyes and lost herself in a moment of deep thought.