Hurricane Punch by Sue DeCrescenzo

Hurricane Punch

by Sue DeCrescenzo

Mystical Maidens Series

The weather forecast wasn’t good. A category 5 hurricane was aimed directly at Florida’s Gulf Coast. The sounds of hammers nailing plywood over windows were heard all around Sydney’s neighborhood. Her parents left her the family home and moved out west. They were tired of the humidity and the threat of storms. Most of the neighbors left were her parents age. Several of Sydney’s friends came to help shore up the neighborhood in exchange they could come to her house and shelter during the storm. Sydney made sure there was plenty of batteries, candles, matches, granola bars, bottle water, snacks, and peanut butter sandwiches. Her friends brought pizzas, beer and “fixins” for the hurricane punch.

After several hours, the winds picked up, but Sydney’s friends had done a great job of securing neighbor’s windows, loose patio furniture, potted plants, etc. They were as ready as they could be. Sydney did a final check of her lanai and watched the sky. The clouds moved in one direction, the winds another. The sky was pea soup green. The humidity was so thick it was almost hard to breathe. Syd could see the ocean off in the distance. It was boiling and turning like a pot of water about ready to boil over. The air conducted an electrical current as another lightning bolt crashed on the horizon. Sydney had lived all her life in FL, and she hadn’t seen anything like this before. Something didn’t feel right, but she shook if off and joined her friends inside.

Her friends had already decided, the heck with it –let’s party. Someone made up a batch of “hurricane punch” in a garage pail. Music played, people danced, and laughter drowned out the winds and rain. Sydney keep checking the forecast. The storm was still stalled off the islands south of FL. Now the party was in full swing. The lights flickered; then went off. The partied on. Then just as quickly as the storm started to move north, the winds died down, the sky changed to a deep blue, the sea calmed down and the worst of the storm passed out to sea. They were all spared.

Some say it was a miracle. Others said there was magic in the air. However, miracles and magic aside, there was no electrical power. It was 90 degrees and Sydney couldn’t breathe. No one else seemed to notice. Sydney left the party and headed for the beach.

Sydney’s head ached, her tongue felt like sandpaper and her stomach was doing backflips. Note to self; never drink anything ever again called Hurricane Punch mixed in a garage pail. As Sydney walked onto the beach, the sand felt cool on her bare feet. At some point, she decided that the cool sand would feel good on her forehead, so she laid down. In fact, it felt so good; she fell asleep.

Syd opened her eyes. Something woke her up. She looked around then brushed the sand off her face. She vaguely remembered how much she drank. Ugh, she vowed, never again. Everything seemed blurry, but Syd thought when she left the party, it was dark. Now the moon lit up the entire beach. She sat up slowly and noticed something sticking out in the sand. It looked like a large brass teapot. Syd thought, it must have washed up in the storm. She picked it up, brushed off the sand and seaweed. It gave off an eerie glow, then got warm and Sydney dropped it. A cloud of steam escaped from the spout.

From behind her someone said, “Great, I am washed up on some god forsaken beach in FL and my Master is a drunk.”

As Sydney turned, she said, Excuse me. I am not a drunk. I just had one too many “hurricanes” and now I wish my head would stop pounding.

The voice said, be careful what you wish for! Then she heard the voice whisper some mumbo jumbo. Within minutes, Sydney felt great. Her head was clear, no stomach backflips and she could speak without her tongue getting caught on the roof of her mouth.

What just happened? Sydney asked.

The voice replied, you just used up one of your three wishes.

Sydney realized that the voice belonged to a man, but he was dressed in a jeweled costume made from silks and wearing bizarre looking shoes. Sydney thought, he’s dressed like that woman from the old TV show, I Dream of Jeannie.

Sydney said, now you’re going to tell me that you popped out of that lantern, you’re a magic Genie and I only have two wishes left?

The man replied. You are correct. You feel better, don’t you? My name is Jardin. I did just pop out of that lantern and you only have two wishes left. Sydney thought to herself. I just survived a hurricane and the worst hangover of my life. I guess I can play along with this guy. He appears harmless.

OK, I want $100 million dollars (after taxes) deposited in my bank account. No strings and it must appear like I always had it.

Jardin shrugged. Not much imagination young lady. In fact, why did you only ask for $100 million? Why not more? However, your wish is my command. He crossed his arms, repeated more mumbo jumbo, and spun around three times. Jardin said, the money is in your bank account. However, Jardin chuckled; I will warn you there is a penalty for early withdrawal.

Great, Sydney thought. I have a magic Genie who thinks he is a comedian. Unfortunately, due to the storm, she had no cell and no internet service to verify she is a millionaire anyway. She said aloud, I suppose if I ask for cell and internet service, I will use up my last wish?

Jardin nodded his head, yes. And better for me, I can pop back into my lantern and be on my way. I have sand stuck everywhere and it’s ruining my silks. Jardin brushes off his pants and made a disgusted face.

Sydney thought to herself, real Genie or not, I am incredibly lucky. I have a family who loves me, lots of great friends, and I just survived a hurricane. If it’s true, I now have a $100 million dollars in the bank and no hang over. What else could a girl hope for?

As if Jardin could read her thoughts, he offered some unsolicited “wish” advice. Don’t ask for world peace or to end human suffering. Those are out of my wheelhouse.

Sydney grew quiet. She took in her surroundings –the beach, ocean, moon light and the stars. She sighed and said. Can I walk for a little while and think about this? After all, I kind of blew my first wish and I can’t verify my second wish until we get cell or internet service again.

Jardin sighed and nodded his head in agreement. After all it’s your last one. Don’t go too far. I really need to get back inside my lantern before the sun comes up.

Sydney nodded, stood up and walked a short distance lost in her thoughts. The breeze had picked up and off in the distance she thought she could see lights on. That meant power was restored and possibly internet service. Just for fun she checked her cell and it worked; then she checked her bank account and the money was there.

She turned, walked back to her new friend Jardin, and said, I figured out what my third wish will be.

Jardin said. Great, I thought you were going to drag this out all night. Lay it on me. Jardin started to get into his wish making pose, arm crossed; then waited.

Sydney said, I kind of blew my first wish, my second wasn’t too bad. Now I have a chance to really make my third wish the best one yet.

Jardin was getting bored, so he twirled the sand around and generated a few harmless waterspouts offshore just for show. Tapping his foot impatiently, Jardin said, are you ready to tell me yet? I’ll be gone by first light and you’ll blow this wish too.

Sydney smiled, paused, then said, I’m ready –my third wish is -- I want two more wishes!

Jardin, sputtered, twirled, said, no one has ever asked that from me before. I guess I must honor your request. Disgusted, Jardin muttered more mumbo jumbo, crossed his arms, and said, here goes. The sand danced around him, the clouds swirled across the moon and the ocean glowed in an iridescent green.

Sydney woke up. She looked around and said, why am I on the beach, and why am I cradling this old brass lantern?

Susan has a varied background in customer service, account management, technical writing, course development, and training. Her specialties are Team leadership, training, technical writing, and public relations. Connect

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