Anything your heart desire

“There’s a green lady somewhere in the old Candy District-where-where all-”
An impatient friend interrupts, “The Alley, right? All the black market shops,” she cups her lips in her palm as she speaks the last of it, leaning in to the group she adds, “all the FREAKS.”
The girls are in a crowded train heading to Market 3-many people are listening. Though no one really cares. People rarely do.
The first begins again, “Yes. They say,” she lowers her voice and head, “there’s a green lady-a witch,” pausing, the three exchange glances, “that can tell you anything.”
“Anything…” the girl who’s yet to speak gasps her eyes wide with possibility.
The impatient friend scoffs unimpressed, “Yeah, yeah-there’s always one: a red one who can boil bathwater, a yellow one who can make you see heaven, and a-”
The first interjects, “Shush! And lower your voice,” the last words an actual whisper, “It’s just what Jimmy told me, okay, sheesh.”
She pouts scanning the train cart praying no one they know can hear them. No one likes FREAK talk. Though, everyone loves FREAK talk.
Miss Impatient rolls her eyes as their wide eyed friend breathes, “But what if-like-what if it’s true?“
All three gasp, their eyes hungry, their plans change-it’s not a long walk from the market.
Making eye contact, each nodding firmly-the new plan is go.

Once off the train they link arms. All dressed in University uniforms showing their Pinkerton pride, pleated skirts brush up against each other as they move taking each step with purpose.
Three hungry young women pushing through the crowds as a wall. It makes the older generation smile, the Liberated love to smile.
They get to the walkway those lovely little inbetweens each girl thinking-what if.
All this dreaming makes the journey go faster as they reach the border-the district gates: open.
“They don’t close it anymore, do they?“ the wide eyed friend asks. Her heart sad for reasons she can’t comprehend. She stops so they all stop. Her big brown eyes begin to water-why?
Hearing the sadness The Impatient just sighs, “No-why would they?” Shaking her head she pulls the trio forward through the threshold, “What would they be protecting?”
Once in the new district the air changes. Of course it’s different in the inbetweens. You’re inside but Miss Impatient hates how the atmosphere changes in some places-just like the sky.
They enter closest to Manufacturing where the other district shadows The Alley, shielding everything from the light.
They shiver.
“I think it might be early,” our impatient girl states to annoyed to be terrified.
Looking around. It’s empty, but they’d have a walk to get anywhere with life.
The leader opens her mouth to speak, but gasps instead as a green light flashes across their vision.
Huddling closer they turn toward the source: the front window of a dilapidated building. Each tilt their head to the right-frozen. Silent and holding their breath they stand still. Again the green light flashes, again the girls gasp-it’s calling them.
Eyes wide they march forward. Swallowing hard, this is what we came for, they push open the soft wooden door-once a beautiful shop entrance, and walk in. The front room is empty, but another door to the girls’ left calls attention to itself. Smoke seeps from underneath-green fog beckoning them.
They press on, crossing the next threshold with bated breath. When they enter the room it’s internal pressure pulls them in-or so it feels. Their eyes all drawn to a crystal ball sitting at the source of the smoke. A cackle-they see the witch!
Her green skin becomes they’re entire focus as she hisses, “Sit-sit my guests-I have been waiting,” And, she has-the benefits of networking.
Chairs come into view as the smoke begins to move. They shuffle to the seats. Eyes yes still wide, breath: still bated.
“W-wh-who are you?” the first asks, her mouth dry.
The witch cackles again throwing her head back as the sound of thunder crashes over them.
“Who-who am I? Ha!“ green lightning strikes hitting the crystal ball then dissipating into a ghostly figment of death. “I am the one who can tell you, all you desire-SPEAK-child and tell me what you want to know,” she demands her voice raspy and full. She’s pointing a long devilish finger at the leader of the trio.
Frozen, but trying to speak the dryness holding down her tongue, “Uh… I uh… um-should I say yes to Billy?!” the words escape fat though they bleed together, her tongue slow to pronounce producing a sluggish panic.
Her friends are both in shock-say yes to what?
Lowering her head the wicked witch places two green palms just over her crystal ball and hisses. Green fire appears within its depths-the room growing hot.
She growls, “no.”
The girl’s heart sinks, but she’s silent.
“You,” a green finger extends to the wide eyed friend who now shivers with insecurity.
Swallowing hard those wide eyes close-what to ask?
Then-inspiration strikes.
“Who is my real father?!” when she opens her eyes again they’re wide, wide with panic. Her friends are mortified realizing together-no middle name.
Green lips twitch as our witch summons green flames, her crystal consumed as she growls.
“Fred R. Miller,” wide eyes sing-Mr. Miller!
“Now you,” her finger points to Little Miss Impatient.
She’s been waiting.
“Should I break up with Billy?” her voice is poison. The kind our Wicked loves.
Our green soothsayer smirks not bothering with tricks growling, “Yes”.

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