Where Wishes Come True — Patrice Wilton

I knew I had to leave before anyone saw me, so I
walked past the girls and back into the bar. In the corner
I saw Lydia at the piano with her boyfriend, Jed. He was
sitting next to her, gazing romantically at each other, and didn't notice me.
Candy poured flutes of champagne, and Fran walked around with a silver platter filled with the delicious mini crab cakes she'd made. Brett sat at the bar chatting up one of the pretty cocktail waitresses.
And me?
I ducked behind some people and bee-lined it toward
the exit. The lights began to flicker, and the brick walls
were slick with sweat. I heard Candy laugh, and shout to
her customers that magic was in the air.
As I pushed through the door, I felt a tinkling pass
through me. It was so quick and fleeting that it might
have been nothing. I would describe the sensation like a
champagne fizz, a light airy sparkle, nothing more. I do
remember thinking how I'd like to be truly beautiful from
the inside out. Any other thought I may have had was
whisked away when I stepped outside.
Thunder rumbled in the black sky, then a flash
of lightning came bolting down toward me. I jumped and
shrieked. The sky lit up like the Fourth of July as
electricity sparked and flashed and danced, reminding me
of rock concerts, magic mushrooms, and light shows.
By the time I reached the car I was drenched and shaken. Running to the car, I'd half expected to get
zapped, but somehow I managed to get the door open and
slide inside. From my place of safety I watched the
lightning rip open the sky and thought how incredibly
beautiful it looked in all of its menacing, malevolent glory.
I'd never seen the night as eerie before, like something out of a Tim Burton movie, and my fingers itched to paint it.
With a final flash of lightning came the wish -- to
view the world as I saw it tonight -- vividly, with
passion and depth, so I could be the greatest painter ever.