Wish Granted Read Free

there. The shadows have gone now. Despite what its eyes tell it, the Kletch can still feel the voice's presence, pulling at the corners of its mind. The Kletch fights against it, fearing an attack. It struggles to fend off the voice while images of the blue globe flash across its mind. The man and woman are walking in the park. It's important. The Kletch knows this somehow, even as it shuts its eyes tight in fear. Through the thick grey eyelids, the images continue to blaze across its mind, clear and sharp. The Kletch struggles to understand what it all means, but there is something else too - sound.
    The Kletch opens its eyes in shock. It leaps out of the crater - an involuntary reflex that sends it high above the ground. It lands just outside the crater's rocky rim. Its muscles are tight and ready for violence as it scans the horizon for the source of its confusion. It can see nothing but the long shadows cast by boulders as they warm beneath the yellow light. Swivelling its thick neck back and forth, the Kletch lopes back towards the centre of the crater. It crouches down in the same dusty imprint that it had just left, and drags its talons back and forth across the ground, leaving deep furrows in the dust. The ground feels warm beneath its hind quarters.
    'These are the sounds that people make,' the voice says.
    The Kletch doesn't trust the voice. It listens to the strange new noises, but it doesn't remember having heard such sounds before. There has only been silence. The Kletch can make no noise, and the voice shares its thoughts without the need for sound. The Kletch wonders why people would want to make such noises. Could they not share thoughts without moving their mouths? The Kletch wants to understand. It stares at the blue globe and tilts its head to one side. The people are making lots of noises as they walk. Their mouths move, and sounds come out. There is a warmth too. The Kletch can feel it somehow, heat on their backs and a thin breeze against their thin pale skin.
    'Katherine, why do you look so sad? Are you not happy for me?'
    The Kletch realises that the man is speaking - making sounds to share his thoughts. The sounds he makes are deep, almost familiar, and they come in short bursts, intertwined in a rhythmic tone. The sounds are forming words.
    'Oh Clarence, you know I have no wish for parlour games,' Katherine says.
    The man - Clarence - laughs and sweeps Katherine up into his arms, kissing her flat pink face until her lacy hat is askew and her flapping arms have surrendered into his embrace. She smells of roses. Her hair is thick and rich, rolling across her narrow shoulders like a waterfall.
    'You know your father does not approve of me,' he says.
    Katherine shines. Her smile fills the park with wonder. 'My father does not approve of any man who would court his daughter. If I were to bring home the King of England he would still find fault.'
    'And will you?'
    Katherine laughs and slaps her lace gloves against his chest. As the trees sway in a light summer breeze, the two link arms and walk onwards through the park. An angry grey squirrel glowers at their impertinence while gripping a fresh nut between its paws, and the couple laugh as they make their way around it. They walk in silence for a time, enjoying each other's company. They savour the clean fresh air and enjoy the warmth of the sun. Clarence swings his uncle's cane by his side as he walks, the silver fox head handle feeling solid beneath his hand.
    'Why must you go Clarence?'
    Clarence pulls her closer and whispers into her pale white ear. 'I must. You know this is a wonderful opportunity. My Uncle's expedition will be incredible.'
    'And what of me? Will you find an African woman to take to your bed?'
    Clarence laughs. 'Oh Katherine, you know I shall not. My heart belongs to you. I shall be gone for just one year -'
    'A year! You speak of a single year, and yet does it not contain so many lonesome days?'
    'Ah, my love. It does. But each day