6.
 Then, one year not long ago, as they were getting ready to put everything away after the last door bell chime and the last cry for candy, Marie found a faded little silk pillow just big enough to fit in the palm of her hand. Face filled with wonder, she went into the living room and sat in her chair beside the fireplace, staring at this grayish tuffet with remnants of fine lace frill all around.
"Really, Mother," Bernie said gruffly, "this is no time to be fooling around. You left the kitchen cupboard open and boxes strewn all around."
"I'm trying to remember what this is," she said. "It's something very important."
Bernie lowered himself painfully onto his knees to finish putting Halloween decorations away. "You are probably losing your mind, old woman."
"No, no," she said, "I remember now." She closed her fist around the pillow, and held it tightly in her lap with both hands while reminiscing. "There was a very old woman who lived not far from here when I was a girl. Her name was, let's see, Mrs. Meyer. She lived all alone in a big house, and was the last of her family. Neighbors sort of liked her, but thought she might be a witch. She was always good to the kids for blocks around. She liked to give us candy for tricks and treats, but she had this quaint custom."
"Oh really? What's that?" Bernie huffed in annoyance as he hoisted himself erect and waddled stiffly in to the living room to sit across from her.
Marie waved the little pillow as she spoke. "She had made a bunch of these things she called wishing pillows. When she dropped candy in our bags, she often dropped one of these in. She said it was good for one wish, but we had to return the pillow for it to be effective. When we returned the pillow, she'd sit us down with ice cream, cake, and milk, and ask us about our wishes. Of course we all knew it was silly, and didn't think much about it, except to wish for an extra piece of cake. She was always good for it." She looked into the distant past with fondness. "One day a boy thought he'd try it out, and wished for a boat ride. Just like that, her brother Joe Walsh from North Alders came by and took several kids for a ride in his rowboat on the Beelzebub. Sometimes the wishes worked, and sometimes they worked out into strange results. I always found it safest just to wish for an extra helping of chocolate devil's food cake with orange frosting."
"Sounds delicious," Bernie said. "I wish we could be kids again."
"Now be careful what you say," she said as she gently put the delicate old pillow aside on a highly burnished oak coffee table.
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Copyright © 2018 by Jean-Thomas Cullen, Clocktower Books. All Rights Reserved.
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