The Wish (1)
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         Warmth, wet and gritty, pooled beneath my fluttering eyelids. I opened my eyes and the heat flowed out, trickling down my cheeks and soaking my shirt. I grazed the dampness with my fingertips, then held my hand in front of my face. Shimmering crimson stained the tips of my pallid fingers, the same red wetness that saturated the front of my shirt. My vision was cloudy, a combined product of head trauma and blood flowing over my face. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, and gave a few ferocious blinks to clean away the mental and physical haze. Time to assess the situation.

            The front of the car was akin to a crumpled accordion, wrapped around an oak tree at the bottom of the ravine. I was still buck...

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