Wishing For Truths

By Jemma Weir

Vanessa considers her mother's drinking and crazy schemes her biggest problem. Until she meets a Genie. 

 

When Vanessa finds a bottle on her doorstep, the last thing she expects is a wish-granting Genie. What could go wrong with a wish for her two friends and herself? Everything.

 

On top of that, her mother's newest scheme is starting to unravel, and the only help Vanessa can think of is the Genie. But he's refusing to come out of his bottle. Now, Vanessa must use nothing but the truth to help her friends before her mother ruins everything.

 

This is a story about wishes gone wrong and a Genie who isn't telling the whole truth, served with a dash of Romance.

 

Buy this Short Story now and join Vanessa as she learns what it means to 'be careful what you wish for.'

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jemma Weir
• Release date: Oct 31, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393292470

Jemma Weir

Too many Ideas - Never enough time How many jobs let you build your own world? Create strange magic? Develop a diverse cast of people who will live on in the minds of others? ​As an author, Jemma Weir gets to do all these things and more, as her cats chase unicorns across the breakfast table, and werewolves dig holes in the garden to torment her chihuahua, it is always an interesting day. ​Fantasy books have always been her first love, from dragons to werewolves, and vampires to elves. Now as she writes her own stories, she pulls together myths and legends, and all the crazy worlds that are her own to create stories she loves. Working from her Scottish home, she writes fantasy, with a dash of humour, and a pinch of sass. Find her at: Web Page Https:\\jemmaweir.com Facebook https://www.facebook.com/JemmaWeirAuthor Twitter https://twitter.com/JemmaWeirAuthor Goodreads https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6540172.Jemma_Weir

Book preview

Chapter One

Vanessa paced the length of her living room; it was a short walk. The movement did little to improve her frustration, but it did help her resist the urge to hurl the phone at the wall.

Are you listenin’ to me, Vee? Her mother’s voice held a faint slur. Vanessa glanced at the clock; it was almost lunchtime. But then her mum didn’t really believe in restricting drinking to any particular time of day.

Yes, I heard you, Vanessa said, aiming for a calm and reasonable tone, though she felt anything but. I’m just trying to understand what you want me to do?

Her mum snorted, the sound turning into a deep, chesty cough that rattled down the phone. Vanessa fought the urge to ask if her mum was okay. She wasn’t—had not been for a long time—but that had more to do with the alcohol and drugs than anything else. Regardless, it was a useless question. It would only add leverage for her mum to use against Vanessa.

I just need you to keep somethin’ for me, just for a few days, her mum said when she finally caught her breath. The vague word ‘something’ set off every warning bell Vanessa had. To say her mum had a loose sense of following the legal system was like saying fish could breathe underwater. It’s the least you can do for me.

Vanessa ignored her mum’s normal addition to any demand she made, like there was some imaginary debt that Vanessa could never repay. She needed to find a way out of this conversation. This was not how she wanted to spend her birthday; to be fair, it was not how she wanted to spend any of her days.

I’ve already told you; I have people coming round, Vanessa said, trying for a firm tone this time. Her stomach knotted as she waited for her mum to respond. The word ‘no’ was not something her mum took well.

Your friends won’t even notice, her mum said. The sound of glass clinking against glass told Vanessa what drug of choice her mum was on today.

Vanessa debated on her answer, taking a slow breath, trying to ignore the smell of mildew that was starting to lay claim to her living room again. It was a continuous battle in the old apartment, especially when winter rolled around. No matter how much she cleaned, it never really went away.

The flat was small, with one box-sized bedroom, a tiny bathroom, a narrow kitchen, and a slightly above miniature living room. But even as small and run down as it was, it was all Vanessa had; it had become her haven. She couldn’t risk it against one of her mum’s less-than-legal adventures, not after all the work she had done building this life for herself.

A knock made Vanessa jump. She turned to stare at the peeling paint that was her flat’s door, half expecting her mum to shout through the thin wood. But her mother continued to drone down the phone, talking about how no one would notice and how much Vanessa owed her.

The door had one small spy hole; Vanessa peered through it cautiously as her mother accused her of being ungrateful. Vanessa exhaled with relief when she recognised who was there.

James was built like a swimmer, tall with broad shoulders and a slim build, though how he stayed that way, she didn’t know. His idea of exercise was walking to the local takeaway. His hair was cut in a messy style that came more from negligence than actual choice. Thankfully for him, the sandy-blond locks required little maintenance.

He had three boxes of popcorn balanced precariously on top of each other. She hesitated before letting him in, taking the time to stare at him through the distorted fisheye lens. Look, but not touch. He would never know how glad she was to see him or what he had just saved her from. Her mum’s voice was an all too real reminder of why James could only ever be her friend.

No one deserved her mum, not even