Latest Fiction Post

  • Mystical Objects Part Three “And I want my grandparents to come back to life.” My cousin’s words ring in my ears. It’s like all of the air is sucked out of the room. “Done.” The genie picks at her nails and turns to me. “Two wishes left for you. What do you want?” My brain locks up. “Our grandparents are alive? Just like that?” “Yes, that’s how wishes work.” “But where are they?” Ness asks. She’s on her feet, eyes ringed red. Her car keys jangle in her hand. “Wherever they were before.” Ness grabs my arm with her cold fingers. “Jessica, wish for them to be here.” “What?” “Don’t you want to see them?” “They–they’re supposed to be dead.” “Do you want them to be dead? I brought them back. They’ll be happy. Everyone will be happy.” “I miss them too, Ness, but they’re supposed to be dead. Bringing them back…it’s not right.” Ness’s grip tightens on my arm. “Please, Jessica. Wish for them to be here.” “But what if?” The words stick in my throat. What if they’re decomposing? “How are we going to tell everyone that they’re not dead anymore?” “We show them the lamp. And grandma and grandpa can explain it to them. Please, Jessica.” My stomach twists so tight I’m not sure if it will ever untangle itself. “I wish our grandparents who you just brought back to life were standing in this basement, healthy and not d-decomposing.” The genie, who had been completely ignoring our conversation, perks up. “Done.” One second its the three of us, and then my grandparents are sitting on their ugly ...
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Latest Poetry Post

  • Flying Little Mandy dragged her parents’ plastic purple broom out of the garage. Today was the day she was going to fly. She tucked a still sticky bubbles container full of flight potion up her jacket sleeve. She poured the potion, dissolved bath salts and grass, over the broom, bristles to handle. Crisp autumn leaves blew down the street as she mounted the broom. She just had to believe and try hard enough. No neighbors were out to witness it, but after a few minutes of rocking onto her tip toes and jumping around, she could swear she actually hovered a minute.   Teenage Mandy loved Halloween. She went as a witch every year, but this year she wanted to be pretty. She wanted to be a fairy. She bought sparkly make-up, blue wings, and a short, sequined gown. Of course, her costume wasn’t complete without a bag of pixie dust. She sprinkled some over her blonde hair before her party, and though it was silly, part of her believed that it would make her fly. Enough of her believed. At the stroke of midnight, he kissed her and damn if her heart didn’t soar.   Adult Mandy bought candy. She’d just moved out and saved up to splurge on decorations for her favorite holiday. After setting everything up, she laid down on her living room rug, an ornately designed blue and gold one that she loved. Though she didn’t think she’d be flying over the New York skyline on it, she believed it would take her places, that it would help her fly, that it would make anywhere home. And despite her fear, she knew that she was doing the right thing. *** Like this poem? Read more like it: http://www.wedbushwrite.com/flying-away/
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About

WedbushWrite is the official website of Sydney Wedbush the fantasy and speculative fiction author. Here you will find her fiction and poetry posts as well as updates on her writing projects and articles from her study abroad in London. Learn more about her on the About page.