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Matchmaker waxes poetic to bartender.

I always find your feedback very helpful! There's a real skill in giving good feedback and crit...I just don't have it, hopefully, I'll improve and learn from people like you as time goes on. It means so much to us scribblers of words.

No, you didn't overcomplicate, the wonderful Kat also got confused thinking there were perhaps 2 characters. Of course you didn't because YTB.

She was a girl, he was a boy, could it be any more complicated?

II:

Once, long ago, there was a little old Tinker, with a little old shop, tucked away in the dingiest corner of a little old city that is now gone from the world. Though merely a tinker, the least of all artisans, he was also a genius of his craft: for it was said of this Tinker, that he could make whatever you wished.

He'd work wonders with the humblest of materials: once, a poor farmer came to him for a weapon to protect his family, for a cart of his produce had been looted and wrecked by bandits while his son was taking it to market, and the farmer's son himself beaten and left for dead. From iron band of a broken cart-wheel, the Tinker made an iron blade and crossguard, and crafted a hilt from one of its wooden spokes, bound together with strips of hide from the poor old carthorse the bandits had cruelly slain in their pillaging.

Thus armed the farmer learned to use his uncommon blade through much practice, and thereafter he brought justice to the bandits by the edge of his sword, becoming renowned as a mighty warrior, and a terror to brigands throughout the land.

On another occasion, a simple washer-woman came to the Tinker, and begged him for a dress for her faithful, hardworking daughter, who secretly desired above all else to attend the kingdom's grand ball. She could only offer a small bag of coins, mostly copper, with a precious few silver pennies mixed in. But the Tinker took her coins, and told her to send him her daughter to be measured, along with one of the simple frocks she owned.

When the night of the ball came, the young woman was arrayed in the most wondrous gown the kingdom had ever seen: though woven of simple dyed linen, it was so beautifully adorned with finely wrought copper ornaments, and so intricately embroidered with silver thread, that it outshone garments made from the rarest of silks. The washer-woman's daughter was the belle of the ball that night, and she attracted the interest of a handsome young lord, who would later become her husband.

The Tinker made many such creations for many folk in need, taking but little payment for his services, and sometimes taking none at all. But alas, one night, he fell asleep at his little workbench, and never woke again. The good people of the little old city where he lived mourned the kindly old Tinker sorrowfully, and gave him as a fine a funeral as that of any king.

Amid the pomp and ceremony that surrounded his burial, the Tinker's shop was all but forgotten, for it had been as humble as the Tinker himself, and had contained nothing of any great value.

But one day, a young man from afar who had heard of the renowned Tinker, came to that little old city, with a fervent wish burning in his heart. He was sad when he learned the Tinker was dead, but having come so far he still went to find the little old shop, which had sat untouched since its owner's death.

Within it, he found the little old workbench where he'd been told that the little old Tinker had labored on his last night. Atop it lay the broken pieces of a brazen vessel, whose original form and purpose could not be guessed at from its bent and shattered remains, along with a number of different metal files, resting on a bed of bronze filings beneath a thick blanket of dust.

But in the center of the pile of abandoned tools and metal shavings, somehow untouched by the years of accumulated dust, was the object the Tinker had made from the filed-down shards of the vessel on his last night: a gleaming bronze key. With awe and wonder, not quite knowing why, the young man took the key, and clutched it to his breast.

And then he made the first wish, upon the Wishmaker's Key.

I:

Florian let out a long sigh. The last trap had been foiled, the last puzzle solved, and the many treacherous decoy treasures dismissed. Finally, he stood at the center of the vast underground labyrinth he had painstakingly navigated over the course of the past month, and beheld the object of his search: an unassuming wooden coffer set atop a plain stone plinth.

Hand trembling, he reached out and lifted the coffer's lid. His eyes widened, as the light of his torch caught the glint of the polished bronze object inside.

The Wishmaker's Key.

Many great men and women had benefited from its subtle magic, he knew. Though the wielders of the Key were never simply handed their heart's desire, somehow -- often through trials and tribulations -- they found their way to that which they had wished for. And now, it was his turn.

He did not know where the Key would take him, or what it would require of him in order to grant his wish. But he had come this far, and despite his weariness, he was ready to take the next step on his journey. Reverently, he lifted the key from its coffer.

In appearance, it was a large skeleton key of a simple design, and might have been belonged to the door of any number of humble dwellings. But the untarnished mirror-like gleam of its surface told a different tale. This was something well cared for, something long treasured.

He took a deep breath. He'd thought long and hard about how to word his wish, but in the end, he decided to simply speak from the heart. The Wishmaker's Key was no monkey's paw, nor was it some trickster genie that was eager to twist the words of its master.

"I wish to know your story." Florian said. "What are you, and where do you come from?"

"Interesting. Rarely are the Key's journeys so short," said a voice from behind him.

Florian whirled around to face the source of the sound. An old man in long blue robes stood before, leaning on a gnarled wooden staff. His face was mature, though not elderly in appearance, despite his long white hair, and the white beard that reached below the belt of golden cord at his waist. A broad-brimmed hat with a pointed crown perched on his head at an angle, and Florian's eyes widened as he saw the three white owl's feathers that adorned the ban.

"Alfarinn Owlfeather!" he exclaimed. According to Florian's research, Alfarinn had been the builder of the labyrinth he now stood in, as well as the Key's most recent wielder. But then, according to that same research, he should also have been long dead, by this time.

"Indeed!" the wizard affirmed, with a nod. "And you are a rarity, young sir. Many have Wished for wealth or power, a few have wished for knowledge, but you are the first I know of to ask for a story."

"I thought I wanted those other things, once." Florian admitted, cautiously. "That's why I became what I am, er...a treasure hunter, I suppose."

"Hmm," Alfarinn said, nodding thoughtfully. "What changed, then?"

Florian eyed the old wizard uncertainly. Older magi tended towards eccentricity, and could be unpredictable. He wasn't sure if the wizard considered him a thief or a guest, but he decided honestly was probably the best policy -- wizards often had ways of discerning truth from falsehood.

"Ever since I was a child, my favorite stories were the ones about the Wishmaker's Key," Florian explained. "I loved hearing and reading about all the amazing people throughout history who've wielded the Key, and gone on incredible adventures to find their heart's desire."

"And?" Alfarinn prompted, raising his bushy eyebrows.

"And, after researching the Key, hunting for it, and finding wealth and adventure along the way...it's occurred to me that what I really wanted most wasn't to use the Key for some other end. What I really want is more of the story."

The wizard nodded. "You may disappointed, then. The story of the Wishmaker's Key has no ending -- nor will it ever, I should think."

"I know." Florian said, with a slight smile. "And I wouldn't want it to. That's why I wished to know the beginning."

The wizard smiled back. "Ah, I see now. Then it is as I said -- the journey the Key has sent you on to find your heart's desire is quite short. But considering the journey you undertook to claim it in the first place, perhaps that is only fair."

The wizard raised his staff, and two arm chairs appeared next to the stone plinth. Orbs of light flashed into existence around the central chamber of the labyrinth, revealing it to be a surprisingly cozy-looking study lined with bookshelves.

"Have a seat," the old mage prompted, and Florian obliged.

"If I may ask..." Florian said, feeling bolder now that it seemed the wizard was kindly disposed towards him. "What did you wish for?"

"To become a great wizard and find the secret of immortality." Alfarinn said, with a chuckle. "Rather cheeky of me, wasn't it, working in two wishes at once like that?"

"You're immortal?" Florian asked, excitedly.

"Yes. As are you, and as are all men. The core of who we are is not flesh and blood, and cannot die. This is the true secret of immortality." Alfarinn gestured to his relatively young face. "Oh, this? Merely a few workings of magic that prolong life. My body shall live long and remain hale, Divine willing, but it will still perish one day."

"I see." Florian said, frowning thoughtfully. "And what of the Key, and its origins?"

"Ah, that is something I discovered in the process of granting the first half of my wish." Alfarinn said. He gestured to the Wishmaker's Key that Florian still held in his hand. "Even objects without a mind have a kind of memory, and I found that the Key is no exception. With the right bit of magic, that memory can be coaxed out of them."

The old wizard learned forward, with a mysterious smile. "So, young man, here is where the story of the Wishmaker's Key begins..."

(continued in comments)

To be fair, (pun that I wish was intended) the owner did nothing to get his key switched, so here it WOULD actually flat out grant it in all fairness and just “reroll” which key it switches with.

Lucifer and Hades meet at the once a century deities convention. Sparks fly.

Could you write the censored bit without the censor?

For some stupid reason this thread collapses whenever I try to click the censor

In love with a hot cecaelia

"Genie of the Key, speak to me." A puff of smoke came up as the genie of the key headed out.

"What is it now?"

"Look. You told me you were going to grant me wishes, and you keep going back on your word. What is the deal?"

"I keep granting you the wishes, just as you said."

"Oh really. I wished for untold riches."

"Yeah, you did it many times. I don't know what else I can do. I taught you how to code, I helped you sign up for a Robinhood account and start learning the stock market and get into crypto, I got you into the sports card scene again so you could get into those super rare hits- I did all I could to help you there. Not my fault the bubble burst..."

"You're a genie. You can fix it so it can't."

"No, my power doesn't work like that."

"Well, whatever. And the time I wished for immortality?"

"Did you SEE that one piece you wrote? All you have to do is get it published and you'll live on forever with something that good. You make great works and leave a legacy, you become immortal."

"You keep blowing smoke up my ass, but I don't think that works..."

"And the wish for true love..."

"Hey, I got you some nice clothes that you might look better in instead of those wrestling and anime T-shirts you always wear like you're still a teenager, I signed you up for Tinder, I got your confidence back up, I helped you look for new opportunities to get yourself out there instead of spending all your time shut away from everyone. I did all I could, the rest is up to you to prove you can be a good man...which, I might add, if you had followed the first and second wishes to its conclusion, you MIGHT BE!"

"Can you just give me some quick fix to get some of these?"

"Another person who wants a quick fix. They always blame the life coach and not themselves."

"Genie of the Key, I wish for some quick fixes to make these wishes come to pass."

I waited a bit...and I suddenly felt a big jolt of inspiration. I've been wasting my time. I need to get back to that website to learn, I need to write again. Let me get cleaned up, get back to work, and actually try to make this stuff wor-why the fuck is that genie laughing?

"...you all always think you're so smart, don't you? You're not the first who tried that and you damn sure won't be the last. Enjoy the burst of motivation."

"Dammit, genie, I wish for a billion bucks to show up right at my doorstep!"

I waited- and a huge pile of acorns fell all around my apartment. "Well, I did it. Just open the door and give it time, I'm sure the deer in the neighborhood will be happy."

"This is not funny, Genie, I wish for eternal life!"

I heard a knock on my door.

"Hi, we're with the local church, have you heard the word of our Lord?"

"GODDAMMIT!" The missionaries in the front looked peeved. "Well, clearly this person seems like a real pleasure to deal with..."

"Genie, I wish for a beautiful model to head to my doorstep and be ready for me..." Just then I saw an Amazon truck come by, and hand me that figurine I had been waiting for for a few month "YOU THINK YOU'RE SO FUNNY, DON'T YOU?"

"I told you. I do not grant wishes, I give you the power to grant them yourself."

"Dammit...I will only say this once. GENIE, I WISH FOR YOU TO GIVE ME EXACTLY WHAT I DESERVE!"

A big pounding sound was at my door...

A dog witnesses his owner's date

"Damnit, I wish I had the key I was looking for instead whatever this thing is!" says the new owner

Hey Gaborrero—this was fun!

The title seemed a little off to me. I think you were referring to the idea we were thinking she was a big reporter? If so, I might have brought her status out a tiny bit more at the beginning. I wasn’t sure she was a journalist except for the theme, as everyone pretty much posts and has done for a while.

This ending line was great—perfect payoff: >>But this bombshell wasn't going to write itself, and her twenty followers relied on her to give them an unbiased perspective on cutting-edge news!

While I’m curious about what the bombshell was, I think it works without telling us. So disagree with Fye a little there, despite all of his other great points

But overall, really cool take :)

It switches places with a random key like object anywhere in existence.

Man wasn't that messed up? Anyways I'm Rod Serling.

I think I have a new item for D&D games. I love this concept, and the wizard just wishing for a decent cuppa joe was the perfect way to end this.

Now the question is, when the wishmaker gets their wish, what happens to the key?

the devil knows how to make a good cup of coffee frfr

Hey Lively—I really liked the MC here and her approach to doing the right thing!

A couple small notes—

1. You may want to introduce John Harris by name when you first mention him as the piggy eyed boss. The logic is just it took me out for a tenth of a second because I wondered if there might be two piggy eyed guys in the office. You then can also cut a little bit of either of the descriptions as while they’re fantastic they do repeat the concept of sleazy boss slightly:

>>Not that my new boss had done anything more than give it a cursory glance, his small piggy eyes had been too busy feasting upon my cleavage. The job had been mine from the moment I had left an extra button undone on my blouse. Brains need not apply.

>>”You can’t leave now!”, exclaimed John Harris, his florid face suddenly peering around the door, his piggy eyes running all over my body like slime, apparently still unable to find my eyes.

2. this made me a little uncomfortable as the MC was playing into the game a bit too much for me:

>> The job had been mine from the moment I had left an extra button undone on my blouse.

Otherwise, most enjoyable:)

"I can barely believe I went along with this."

He gazed out from the edge of the rooftop.

It was too dark to see the ground over a hundred floors below.

The wind slamming against his body suddenly lessened.

Someone sat down beside him.

A rookie couple brags a bit too much to a pair of veterans, time to show them what real love looks like.

She was the intended sacrifice in the botched ritual that summoned him.

Thanks for sharing this spooky tale!

I really liked this stuff:

• Using the necklace to help us understand the characters. As well as using it to heighten the intensity of the scene.
• The way you described what Button was hearing on the phone. In a small amount of words you were able to give a distinctive sound to it.
• The way the monster was described. Both ambiguous and specific, allowing the reader to imagine whatever springs to mind.

Thing(s) that didn't connect with me:

• The framing backstory is a little confusing. Is Button looking for two missing people or are they looking for Jack? Same thing?
• The recollection of what the boss said interrupted a part of scene that I wanted to be more engrossed in.

Got a touch of Douglas Adams going there.. Nice work!