The Wishing Dice

a very short horror story about throwing the bones

The first time I used the wishing dice, I asked for a child. I rolled evens. A year later, my daughter was born.

The second time, I asked for a bigger home. I rolled odds. My house burned down with my family inside.

The last time, I held the dice over the stairwell of my new apartment, half wishing for the courage to throw them away, half wishing to see my family again.

I shut my eyes and dropped them.

I don't know which wish the dice heard, but I know that years later, I still lie awake at night, waiting to hear if they‘ll ever hit the ground.

Short story written by Peter Chiykowski

Story prompt taken from a photo by pxhere