Lying in bed, I found it impossible to close my eyes and rest. The silence of the room, rather than being soothing, seemed to amplify the loud thoughts unleashing chaos in my mind. I delved deep into my own thoughts, replaying and analyzing the events of the past week. As a twelve-year-old, the concept of death was something I didn't fully comprehend. This internal conflict was compounded by the unusual experiences I had encountered – interacting with children that apparently only I could see.
Witnessing my parents in distress over a situation they couldn't control was incredibly heart-wrenching. Seeking to divert my thoughts from the pain around me, I found myself reflecting on the old lady who had visited me. I remember the pleasant time we shared during her presence in this room, which brought a measure of comfort amid the current difficulties.
In my mind, I continued to remember the time we spent together, the one person who brought me peace with just a smile. Initially, I had thought that elderly people might be dull, but she was different. Despite not knowing her name, her presence was far from boring. She possessed a captivating smile and a personality that could instantly warm your heart.
Suddenly, I sensed a presence in the room, an eerie feeling as if someone was watching me from the shadows. My thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a voice.
"You shouldn't think about other people like that." An old lady said, appearing near my bed out of the dimness. "It's distracting how much noise you're making on the other side."
The lady standing near my bed was entirely different from the one I had been thinking of; she had dark skin. Despite her different appearance, there was a familiar warmth emanating from her, similar to the comforting presence of the previous lady.
"Who are you?" I asked, more as a matter of formality than genuine curiosity. Deep down, there was a sense of recognition, a feeling that I already knew who she was. Yet, I wanted to confirm my intuition, to ensure I wasn't mistaking her for someone else.
"Do I really have to answer that question?"
"You look different from before."
"Oh!" She let out a light giggle, acknowledging the observation. "I have been doing this for quite some time. I can't keep the same image for too long. I am old, you know?"
As she smiled, I noticed the golden necklace she was wearing. It had a pendant of an angel playing a trumpet, strikingly similar to the one Pirate Boy had worn. This resemblance caught my attention and awakened my curiosity, leading me to wonder if there was a connection between her and the Pirate boy. Despite this curiosity, I hesitated, unable to voice my question about any potential relationship they might have.
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My attention momentarily shifted away from the mysterious woman to my parents, who were sound asleep on the couch next to my bed. "My parents... they might hear you."
She glanced over at them, her face reflecting a sense of compassion. "They are going through a lot. The pain in their hearts is evident, and it saddens me. But at the same time, I'm happy for you. They are the kind of parents that are rare to find these days. Your mother, in particular, has such a strong spirit. Unfortunately, they cannot see this charming lady. It's only you who can see me."
"Why I am the only one? My mother would love you if she saw you."
"I understand, but the answer is simple; you are almost at the finish line."
Her words were puzzling to me, yet they reignited my interest in resolving unfinished matters. "Are you here to finish the guessing game with me?"
"Only if you can guess my name in 2 minutes. We Godmothers have our bedtimes as you kids do."
With only two minutes to guess her name, the challenge initially seemed daunting. However, the hint she provided was a crucial clue. It sparked a realization in my mind, making the answer suddenly appear clear and obvious.
"The Godmother! That's your name."
Her reaction was one of playful shock. "Oh, my goodness!" she said, covering her mouth with her hands. "You did it, Sammy!!"
I couldn't contain my laughter at her reaction, but I quickly quieted down, remembering that my parents were asleep in the same room. Despite the ease with which she revealed the answer, there was still a sense of joy and achievement in having guessed her name correctly.
"I am a woman of my word, Sammy. Here is my gift to you."
As she extended her hand towards me, a bright, otherworldly glow emanated from it. The room transformed before my eyes, lights flickering and papers swirling in a sudden gust of wind that seemed to originate from her. It was as if her presence brought a touch of magic into the room.
Then, as the wind calmed and the papers settled, something extraordinary happened. In her hand materialized a peculiar fountain pen. It was a striking object, black in color, elegantly accented with gold adornments.
"Wow. What is that?"I asked, fascinated by the elegant pen she held.
"This is one of my personal favorites, The Godmother's Pen. With this pen, you can write your heart's desire and it will come true."
I was completely mesmerized by the pen, its delicate details capturing my full attention. I took a closer look and noticed a unique feature: a three-wheel dial on the pen displaying the number nine hundred and ninety-nine. Intrigued, I felt compelled to ask her about its purpose.
"What are the dials and the numbers for?"
She responded with a warm smile and gently handed the pen to me. "Every word is gold. Once you have written a word with the pen, the dials will count down, until it reaches zero."
"I can write anything I want, and it will come true?"
"Yes, but there are rules."
Her confirmation that the pen could make written desires come true was thrilling, yet the mention of rules tempered my excitement. At a young age, the concept of rules often felt like constraints, making things less straightforward and more complex.