The Wish

I was bored.

School was out, and there was nothing to do in this freaking dull town.

Mom and Dad and the rest of the old people can blather all they like about The Way Things Used to Be. Stubborn old farts, mouthing the exact same things their parents used to say. Blah blah thrilling blah blah battles all along the road, blah blah British soldiers and Hessians. So exciting! So invigorating! Such handsome soldiers!

Ugh. If I get like that, shoot me, OK?

Our town may be the name on the battle, but all that really happened here was the surrender. Ooh, ooh, birth of a nation, yes I bleeping well know. We only drive the ten mile loop and walk the paths every freaking year on our school trips, like there aren't any other places to visit? I can walk to the national cemetery from my back yard, thankyouverymuch.

I've never been to an amusement park, because glorious history.

We have no industry. Nothing. We are a bunch of houses, surrounded by farms. A church or two. And cemeteries, lots of them. All the parental units drive somewhere else to work, then come back. Bo. Ring.

And then they bitch at me for being addicted to video games.

What do you want me to do, go down to the river to fish? Smoke cigars in church? Explore a nonexistent cave? Whitewash a fence with my pal, like they whitewash history?

The moment I can, I am soooo outta here.

When my parents get sick of my headphones keeping them from spouting such crap in my ears, they throw me outside. I usually go down to the cemetery, hide behind a tombstone or two, and try to think of what to do with my life. It's not like I'm being trained for any occupation, no thanks to the retro community elders.

These are supposed to be the best years of my life? Trapped with a bunch of morons who think it's great to raise the few kids in town in perfect safety, but talk about glory days they never even saw like it was paradise on earth? I'm lying among the kids – kids my age, and younger! - who died for the present safety, but noooo, not good enough?

Longest day of the year, and here I sit, at the river, watching it trickle sluggishly past the dock.

Yes, I use big words. I've read a lot. Not much else to do here. We have a public library. I spent a lot of time there before I could convince my parental units to install internet. And with my best friend living four towns over, it's not like we can get together much, except online in a game.

It's not like I could hide in the cemetery today. Some idiot got the harebrained idea to re-create having a public celebration in the park, “you know, with all the dead people, like they used to.”

So, while I was down here enjoying peace and quiet, the whole freaking town was in the cemetery, while kids ran around shrieking to be heard over the speeches being given by pompous Important Town People.

Well, not so quiet. I can hear them, kids and speeches alike. And there's a catbird nearby taking offense, and calling right back. And the robin from the other tree is responding to the catbird, and it makes me laugh a little. But not enough to laugh out loud; all I need is spattered clothing when a catbird decides to target your clothing. And they do, and they have long memories. Trust me on this.

But there's still quiet under all of it. Now that I'm thinking about it, that's my big problem with this place. Like it's all a cemetery – the town, the national park, the battlefields, the old camps, the actual cemetery, the farmlands in between. All of it, stuck in time, unable to move on, upgrade, even acknowledge that things and times change and you need to keep up or die. That's a creepy thought. Like we're lice on a dead body, not knowing we're about to be buried? Eugh. Yeah, I need to get out of town, pronto.

I waited till the sounds of their cobbled-together military band stopped. Like, that's what I want to hear from beyond my grave when I die in battle? That's the music someone picks for me to hear?

Which means my idiot parents would soon start looking for me, demanding to know where I'd been, making them look bad to the rest of town by not being there.

I shuffled around to stand up, and saw something gleaming that wasn't sun on the water. It was under the water, not a reflection.

It's shallow here, no problem wading around. I slid in, carefully scooped up the mud and pebbles around the gleam. It washed off a simple gold ring.

Wow.

Okay, sure, I know there are artifacts all over the place. Can't help it, really. I've found lead shot and even a few cannon balls, and dutifully turned them in. But holding this, tilting it in the light, I just can't. This was someone's life, someone's future promise, and it died here.

I could see the writing on the interior of the band: J'adore Heinrich 1775.

Aw, hell.

Everyone, and I mean everyone, knows about Heinrich von Breymann. Hessian leader, was forced to retreat behind a redoubt, his men wouldn't fight because they were demoralized, he skewered four with his saber in a rage. Like that'll get them moving. One of his own men shot him dead, and they retreated and left his body to be buried by the Americans. Which they did, with the others.

Hoo boy.

He'd never married, but if this artifact was the real deal, he had a sweetheart at home waiting.

Aw, hell. I can't, I just can't. Yes, I know it's important, but the idea of this sitting in a plastic case, or a drawer... Too much like a coffin to my liking.

Aaand here come the troop-wannabes.

Time to skedaddle.

It's easy to fade away in this town. I play strategy games online because that's what I do- avoid adults. So it doesn't take long to fade into the trees, ease around the frontal assault, and do exactly what they wouldn't expect: follow their path back to the cemetery. Even with the hangers-on and breakdown crew, I can easily get to my usual hidey hole without anyone spotting me.

A thought.

What better place to hide the ring?

This grass on the back side doesn't get much attention, so it's not a big deal to pull up the turf, and tuck in a small circle of metal. I put it back with a little pat.

And darkness fell. Immediately.

Above me, a glowing haze congealed into a human form. Eye-like things saw me. “You, person, have done a kindness at midsummer. You have healed a wound. Therefore I may give you a gift. What would you request?”

Oh, one of these tricky ones! But I've played enough puzzle games. I opened my mouth to answer-

And the blowhard mayor came running over! “Oooh! Make this town exciting again, like when the troops came through! Every day!!” The rest were nodding and exclaiming agreement.

I slapped my head in exasperation. So did the being, looking so much like a genie.

“You fools. You wish to look back, not forward? Are you mad? Fine, get your stupid wish. Choke on it.” It looked at me again with some sympathy. “Sorry, kid, they spoke first. Ask me in another hundred years, I'll grant yours.”

As the thing faded, other mists rose from every grave, assembled, and began to set up a camp.

The next day, Burgoyne's ghost army came marching into town, just like they did two hundred years ago. And the next, and the next, and the next, fading at midnight and re-forming to march again. Re-enactors and historians were ecstatic, and flooded the town to watch and take notes.

Locals quickly went mad and moved away. Or were put away. Houses were sold at a premium to the newcomers to watch the show.

I sued the mayor for everything he had by stealing my wish, and won. The evidence was rather overwhelming, plus witnesses. I took the cash and learned a trade, and now live relatively comfortably. Found a nice girl and had a kid with her, and I won't make the same mistakes with my son that my parents did with me.

Them? Nah, I don't talk to them. They're in a cottage on the grounds of the psych institute, and I won't let them anywhere near my kid. Would you?

Don't believe me? Go on, take the new, improved tour. See what happens.

Dare you.

Meanwhile, I'll take my family to an amusement park.