Gracie watched wax melt down the sides of the candles. Twelve in all. Small puddles formed in the chocolate frosting of the cake, a flicker of the flame as she sighed.
“Make your wish and blow them out,” Aunt Hildy said with a smug smile.
The wish.
Gracie always wished the same wish. If only it could come true. If only the family wasn’t cursed.
Another sigh. She blew them out with a frown. How many years had she celebrated this birthday?
Her aunt cut the cake as Gracie walked away.
The only wish she had was to turn thirteen.
©Laura L. Zimmerman 2016
Photo cred. Pixabay