Writetober 2025, Coven of the Quill, Day 4: The Price of Desire
The air in the bayou was a heavy drape smelling of cypress and decaying earth. Ethel leaned over the side of her canoe to observe the lake, her reflection broken by the movement of the water. She knew the creature was there. "I know you can hear me, old one," she whispered, her voice a small thing against the repetitive drone of the cicadas. The water barely rippled. Then, a single, enormous eye slowly rose to the surface. It was not malevolent, nor kindly—only weary. This was The Wish-Eater, the swamp's poorly-kept secret. "You seek a wish," the creature's voice was a heavy presence. It knew what she wanted. "I want her back," Ethel stammered, the words catching in her throat. "I want Gramma back. The way she was before, uh... everything. You know..." The amber eye focused. Not on her face, but on the thread of memory woven into her words. "You know the cost," the Wish-Eater pulsed. "I will grant you your full desire. She ...