Lesson: Be mindful of that of which you are desiring—each gain comes at a price tag, and all are not worth the price.
The vendor was sitting in his normal location at the corner of Market Street, under the faint glimmer of flickering lamps 🌆. His booth was a plain wooden cart covered in ragged cloth, but it had small glass vials with a swirling wisp of silver mist on it 🌬️. A sign that was hand-painted said:
WISHES FOR SALE
Price varies. No refund.
Jonas had always been skeptical of the existence of magic, but desperation was getting the best of him that evening. His debt was built to a staggering figure, his company was bankrupt, and chance had never smiled upon him 😞. He hesitated no more than a moment before visiting the vendor
"How much is a wish?" He asked tightly with a skeptical tone
The vendor stared at him with milky eyes gray with age. "Depends on the desire." "Larger the desire, larger the cost." "But the cost is not monetary."
Jonas frowned but smirked. He had nothing left to lose. "I want wealth. Enough to never worry again."
The vendor handed him the vial, and Jonas drank the mist inside of it 🍼 . At once the world rushed by, his mind reeled, and his chest thundered. He woke up in the middle of a flood of wealth in his flat, complete with beautiful furnishings, flashing lights, and piles of cash, all while wearing stylish Louis V clothing. His laughter was disbelieving. Magic had made the dream a reality
But something was wrong
He couldn’t remember the name of the friend of his childhood—the friend with whom he had shared his growing year by year—the friend with whom the echoes of laughter had at least a million times—the friend with a name that somehow got lost into the air
Jonas brushed the criticism aside. An occasional cost to pay to have a life of extravagance.
Days passed, the urge was strong. He again visited the vendor. He wanted to gain popularity this time.
Once more, the vapour filled his lungs with a heady high 🚀. The following day, the entire world knew his name. Paparazzi tailed him to his location, brands stood in a queue to have him endorse them, and the public rioted at his presence.
But his mother’s voice was no longer present in his memories. He knew that she had raised him up, had loved him—but could no longer recall the timbre of her nursery rhymes, the tenderness of her words. She was somehow removed from the very texture of his past.
Still, he rationalized that a small price was worth paying to be remembered by the public eternally.
Thus, it continued happening again and again.
Something was added to him with every wish: love, influence, and power. Every desire resulted in the loss of something. ♈️ The scent of rain after a storm. His father's method of teaching him how to ride a bicycle 🚲. The feeling of being at home.
Yet Jonas was blind to the trend, caught up in the euphoric euphoria of his burgeoning empire—until the night that he stood facing a mirror and saw nothing.
No reflection. 👀❌
Panic gripped him intensely. He ran to the vendor with a shaking hand. "What have you done to me?!"
The vendor sighed heavily. "I made all of your dreams a reality to you without fail. Every time you obtained something you wanted, you lost something you had."
Jonas staggered back, memories pouring out of him like sand between his fingertips ⏳. He could no longer recall his birthday. His laughter. His name. He had wished that all that made him him to depart him.
With a quavering voice, he muttered to himself softly, "I want. I want to turn back time."
The vendor smiled wistfully. "We cannot issue a refund."
And just like that Jonas was no more.
The streetlights flickered. The vendor shifted his vials, humming a forgotten melody of the past.
From the shadows another desperate figure drew closer.
"How much will the wish cost?"
The vendor smiled. "Depends on what you're willing to lose."
And so, the repetition resumed again 🔀