《What do you wish for?》 1. That One Night Norman hated his life. He was ostracized at school. Kids teased him behind his back. For every possible reason. One day it was his looks. The next, his clothes. The next, because he was poor. He had never heard them out loud. But he knew. And it made him terribly self-conscious. His home life wasn¡¯t much better. His beloved father was never around. Constantly working hard at his job. His mother was always home, but she constantly nagged him. And stared despondently at those letters. He¡¯d never bothered to ask what they were about. Norman was truly a boy forsaken by God. Every night, he prayed for a miracle. Every night, he was disappointed. He asked God for many things. Money. Fame. Looks. Women. The usual stuff. He received no response. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. But he never stopped praying. Eventually, his wishes just became more outlandish. He wished for a pet dragon. A magic sword. Even to become God. None were granted. Until one night. On one sweltering summer evening, in mid-June, fourteen-year-old Norman wished for the ability to astral project. For a while, nothing happened. He just laid in bed and listened to the crickets chirping. Then, in a reddish cloud of dust, a strange creature appeared. It was essentially a cube of flesh. It had a thousand eyes, but no mouth. The way it moved was¡­ indescribable. Something that humans were probably never meant to see. Norman and the cube studied each other for a long while. ¡°Are you god?¡± Norman finally asked, breaking the silence. The cube vibrated in a way that could only be described as a laugh. ¡°Sure,¡± it replied, ¡°If you want me to be.¡± The boy considered this carefully. ¡°Well, okay,¡± he said, ¡°What should I call you?¡± The cube vibrated again, softly. ¡°How about¡­ Cyubo.¡± 2. A Mundane Existence Two Years Later Before Cyubo¡¯s departure, Norman had asked for and received the ability to astral project. At first, he had been absolutely elated. He had begun to have dreams of traveling the world. Of finding treasure. Of working for the CIA. It had felt like his wildest fantasies were about to come true. But Norman had quickly realized that his power was limited to a mere ten-mile radius. There would be no epic adventures in Egypt. No spying on the Russians. Norman had been crushed. It was as if all of his aspirations had been stolen from him. He became bitter once again.
Beep. Beep. Beep. It was seven in the morning. Time to get up. Norman got dressed. Snatched a bagel from his mother. Caught the bus. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. At seven-thirty, Norman arrived at school. He had to drag himself into the building. Immediately, he felt on edge. He could feel a thousand pairs of eyes boring into him. Judging him. He glared at everyone he saw. Tick. Tock. Tick. It was eight. First period. Math. Over the years, he had grown to hate math. Too many letters. Not enough numbers. He felt his teacher hovering. Watching him. Thinking he was stupid. Norman distracted himself for a while by astral projecting and spying on the neighborhood girls. It got boring fast. He¡¯d done it a million times, after all. Norman canceled the projection and stood up. He was leaving. When Norman arrived home, his mother was still there, sitting at the kitchen table. With her letters. Not working. He glared at her. He hated being poor. She just smiled at Norman sadly. ¡°Did you have a rough day?¡± she asked. Norman just scoffed and went upstairs. Dumb bitch. Probably didn¡¯t even notice he¡¯d skipped. He wished his dad was home. 3. Losing It Beep. Beep. Beep. It was seven in the morning. Time to get up. Today, though, Norman didn¡¯t want to. Yesterday had sucked. So he went back to sleep. Fifteen minutes later, his mother entered his room. ¡°Honey,¡± she whispered, gently shaking him, ¡°You need to get up to go to school.¡± Norman shot up to a sitting position, nearly colliding with her. He glowered at the woman, completely done with her nagging. ¡°Get the fuck out of my room,¡± he spat. She just stared at him sadly. He lost it and started screaming. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. ¡°I said get the fuck out! Go get a job. Or go stare at your dumb letters. I don¡¯t care. Just Leave. Me. Alone.¡± She slowly nodded and left his room. Norman couldn¡¯t help but resent her. Maybe if she wasn¡¯t so depressed all the time, his dad would be home more often. Norman often thought back to the good times, years ago. When he¡¯d been happy. When his dad came home everyday and played baseball with him in the park after work. When his dad bought him ice cream and didn¡¯t yell when Norman dropped it. Everything had changed so quickly. For the rest of the day, Norman astral projected. He mostly spied on the neighborhood girls. It did, of course, get boring quickly, but it was the most interesting thing he could do. His mother brought him dinner at seven. It was spaghetti, his favorite. He scarfed it down quickly. At least the woman could cook. Norman laid in bed for a while. At around ten, he heard the signature creak of the front door. His mother was leaving the house. Again. Doing God knows what. He could easily figure it out if he wanted to. But he didn¡¯t really care. He quickly fell asleep. 4. The Impossible Made Possible Day after day passed, and Norman¡¯s resentment towards the world grew. It felt like no one noticed him. Like the world had turned against him. He started to wonder whether anyone at school would care if he was gone. How would they react if he died? How would his father react if he died? Norman wanted to find out. So he decided to fake his death. After some online research, Norman realized that it would be too difficult to pull off. The logistics were too complicated. The police would see through it. It would be impossible. He felt disheartened and angry. And then he had an idea. The impossible had been made possible once before¡­ So, on one cold winter evening, in early January, sixteen-year-old Norman prayed to Cyubo, requesting aid in faking his death. The fleshy cube materialized in a puff of red smoke. It had taken only a few minutes to arrive. Significantly faster than its first appearance. The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. The cube moved in that indescribable way it moved. Its thousand eyes seemed to peer into his soul, but, strangely, not in a judgemental way. ¡°You called?¡± it asked, vibrating a tad. ¡°Yes,¡± Norman replied, ¡°I did.¡± The cube floated in the air next to him, waiting. Norman continued, ¡°Help me fake my death. Let me see how everyone reacts when I die.¡± ¡°Understood,¡± Cyubo said, ¡°For one day and one night you will be able to see the effect of your death through your astral projection. Is that acceptable?¡± Norman nodded. The cube disappeared. Norman laid down in bed. Tomorrow, he would finally see what the world truly thought of him. He would reveal the true colors of those bastards at school. The ones who quietly watched. Judged. Gossiped. Maybe his father would come home. He could hardly wait. 5. The Not Letters Day (Part One) When Norman woke up, it was morning, and he was an astral projection. Laying on his bed was his corpse. The sight probably should have alarmed him, but he felt nothing. His death was only temporary after all. Norman waited in his room for about an hour for someone to discover his corpse. No one came. He was supposed to have been at school already, so he was surprised his mother hadn¡¯t come to nag him. Bored, Norman decided to go find the woman. He found her slumped over on the kitchen table, asleep. Next to those damn letters. Weirdly, she was wearing a uniform. A fast-food uniform. Did she get a job recently? When did she have the time? She was always home when he got back from school. Always. The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. The uniform looked worn. She had clearly been working for a while. Norman was confused. Could she have been on the night shift? Maybe¡­ all those nights when he had heard the front door creak... She was¡­ Oh¡­ Norman was starting to feel a bit bad for all of those times he had yelled at her to get a job. Why hadn¡¯t she just told him that she had already gotten one? He didn¡¯t understand. He shook his head and glanced around, spotting her letters. For the first time ever, he looked at them. They weren¡¯t letters. They were bills. Expensive bills. Now he could understand why she was depressed. But why did she owe so much money? Why didn¡¯t his father just pay off the bills? Norman was stunned. It was like he knew nothing about his own family. The whole faking his death thing was hardly going as planned. He suddenly felt a bit worried about how his mother would react to his body. 6. Mom Day (Part Two) She didn¡¯t react well. Norman had expected her to call 9-1-1. Which she did. Immediately. Norman hadn¡¯t expected that she would scream so much. Or cry so much. Or desperately try to give him CPR. He hadn¡¯t expected that she would tell him that she was sorry. That she wasn¡¯t a good mother. That she should have worked harder. Should have found a way to pay the bills. Should have kept the family together. Norman felt like shit. He wanted to cry himself. When all of this was over, he would be better to her. He promised that to himself. And really meant it. If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. The police came. Twenty minutes later. After a while, Norman had enough of listening to his mom tearfully explain what had happened to the cops. He was feeling worse and worse. Norman knew that some of his gossipy classmates had relatives in the police force. By this point, everyone at school would know that he was dead. He flew over to the school. People were talking about his death. But, not in the expected way. They weren¡¯t bad-mouthing him. Many, in fact, were praising him. This absolutely infuriated him. Norman knew that a lot of them had teased him when he wasn¡¯t aware. Had looked at him funny. Had judged him. He¡¯d never actually witnessed them in action. But he didn¡¯t have to see to know. He glided around the school for most of the day. Pretty much everyone was having similar reactions to the news of his fate. It made him hate everyone in the school even more. Why did they not show their true colors? Why? They were making him feel as if he had been wrong about them. But that couldn¡¯t be true. It just¡­ couldn¡¯t. Norman flew home angrily. 7. A Five-Dollar Bill Night (Part One) By the time Norman had made it back, the sun had set. He spotted a familiar blue car in the driveway. His father was finally home. Norman hadn¡¯t seen his dad in months, and he suddenly felt worried. What if his father reacted badly to the news of his death? Seeing his mom like that¡­ It had been awful. Norman¡¯s fears were unfounded. He rushed into the house to find his father just standing in the living room. His mom was on the couch, looking at the ground. His father wasn¡¯t screaming. Wasn¡¯t crying. Wasn¡¯t doing much of anything. He looked completely composed. Norman felt a sickening sense of disappointment. Which was silly, really. It¡¯s not like he¡¯d wanted to see an extreme reaction¡­ And yet, for some reason, the sickness lingered. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. His father started to speak. Norman froze in anticipation. ¡°Annette, sweetie, did you, by any chance, take out a life insurance policy on him?¡± ¡­ ¡°What?¡± Norman¡¯s mom choked out. ¡°I mean¡­ Did you?¡± Both Norman and his mom stared at the man in disbelief. He continued hurriedly, ¡°I mean¡­ we could pay off a lot of those bills! We could sell this house, pay off the rest, move, and start a new life together!¡± He suddenly grabbed her hands. Stunned silence. ¡°I¡¯ve quit gambling!¡± he tried. More silence. He let go of her hands, taking the hint. ¡°Oh, well¡­,¡± he paused, rubbing his neck, ¡°I really am sorry about those bills... Thanks for paying them off.¡± The man rummaged around in his pockets, producing a five-dollar bill. ¡°Here,¡± he tried to hand it to Norman¡¯s mom, ¡°Every bit counts.¡± She let it fall to the floor. ¡°Get. Out.¡± He left. Norman watched as his mom bent down and snatched the bill off the floor. 8. Goodbye Night (Part Two) Norman stood in the kitchen. Screaming. ¡°Cyubo!¡± he cried. The cube appeared in a plume of red smoke. There were strange reflections in its eyes. Reflections that no human was meant to see. ¡°You called.¡± ¡°Cyubo, I know it hasn¡¯t been one whole night yet, but you have to bring me back to life! Right now!¡± The cube remained silent. Norman¡¯s heart sank. ¡°Please, Cyubo! I need to talk to my mom. Bring me back. Please!¡± The cube floated above his head. ¡°I am sorry, Norman. But, as you have seen with your astral projection power, my abilities are not limitless. I cannot bring you back.¡± If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Norman felt like he was choking. ¡°I asked you to help me fake my death. Not for you to actually kill me!¡± The cube whirred. ¡°I told you that for one day and one night you would be able to see the effect of your death through astral projection. Nowhere did I mention bringing you back to life. You accepted those terms.¡± ¡°Please,¡± Norman whispered. ¡°I am sorry. You have five hours, twenty minutes, and six seconds left on this earth. I suggest you make the most of them.¡± The cube vanished. Norman wanted to collapse to the floor. He didn¡¯t. He floated up the stairs. To his mom. He found her on his bed, asleep. Norman wrapped his astral arms around her. For five hours, nineteen minutes, and seven seconds, he apologized. He apologized for all the times he had sworn at her. For the times he had told her to get a job. For the times he hadn¡¯t understood. For the times he had chosen his father over her. Norman told his mom that he loved her. That he wished she could hear him. Then he told her goodbye.