THREE
Fat flakes of snow descended around him. The world had descended into a gentle and tranquil temperance that only occurs on snowy winter nights. This time of year is often described as magical, and while it can be easy to ignore the wonders of a night such as this when you are navigating traffic of slogging along an unplowed street, there was definitely an aura of magic in the air.
He walked up the slippery driveway towards the front door and paused. A fleeting motion had captured his attention, something stirring out in the snow. He scanned the lawn quickly, but there was nothing there. He turned back towards the house and was about to ring the doorbell, when a sharp prick stabbed his neck. He reached up a hand and found a tiny icicle there. He looked up towards the overhanging roof above, but there were no icicles to be seen.
A high pitch cackle echoed through the silence.
He spun back towards the lawn and found it still deserted. There was a stick covered in snow, but aside from that, the yard, and even the street beyond, was empty.
He was about to turn away again when the stick moved. It somersaulted quickly through the air, and landed motionlessly a few feet away. The night was calm, and aside from the softly falling snow, utterly still. There was no explanation for the sudden movement.
He looked closer and the stick turned to face him. It wasn’t a stick at all. As impossible as it might seem, a small craggly man stood before him.
“Three,” the tiny figured cackled. “That is all you have.”
“Three what?” he replied.
“Just three. No more no less.”
“Three what? I don’t understand.”
“You will not know when you have taken them, but you will know when they run out.”
“I don’t…”
“Three. Your eyes have seen what is unperceived, and for that you have three. Use them wisely.”
With a cackle, the tiny figure dashed off across the lawn and disappeared into the night.
He stared after it for a moment, wondering whether he had experienced a tiny grand mal or stroke. There was no explanation for the tiny figure. Storybooks talked about elves, leprechauns and sprites. They were secretive creatures and they would often bestow three wishes. It seemed impossible, but maybe that’s what the little figure had meant.
He thought carefully, conscious of all the stupid trappings from the stories he had read growing up. Finally, he decided upon his first wish and as if on cue, he noticed the little man standing next to him.
“I know what I want,” the man announced proudly.
“I’m sorry to hear that," the little figure replied. “Your three minutes are up.”
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