Genies don’t grant wishes like they tell you in stories. No, that’s a lie. Actually they’re pretty useless, if you ask me.
I found him on my walk home from school. A group of high schoolers were teasing me again because of my lisp, so I crossed through the field, even though that way takes longer.
Anyway, he came out of this jar I kicked. Not a lamp, that’s another lie. I knew what he was right away, so I wasn’t even scared. I wished for justice on the bullies. I wished they would get what’s coming to them.
The cop gave me a grim nod. “You should wait until your parents get here before you say anything else.”
I shrugged and started to whistle, dry blood flaking off my lips as I blew.
Today’s magic prompts were “a pack of high schoolers, “justice,” and “a genie.” I’m continuing on the horror train because, well, it is just so much fun to write. I love the horrible and shocking (which can be easily ascertained from the Stephen King’s and Chuck Palahniuk’s on my bedside table). And, for some reason, beautiful weather always sends me into reading and writing about the dark and dreadful. It is, I think, how I keep such a sunny disposition.