The year was 2002. I was a young man who had become detached from a tour group in the midst of the Australian Outback. After a few hours, I started to succumb to dehydration. I was envisioning a plodding, laboured death in the heart of nowhere, but that didn’t happen. It seemed like a mirage, but the Moon spoke to me. Looking upon me with far-flung craters, which felt like remote eyes, the talking rock said it could save me. I followed a misty, moonlit trail across the arid landscape, and I eventually stumbled onto the town I’d been trying to find.

Later that night, in my hotel bed, the Moon called to me. It offered three wishes. I rushed to the window, confused as to how my replenished body, now fed and watered, could still be hallucinating. And yet, I somehow knew that it was real. I knew the Moon had saved me from the desert. What do I have to lose by making some wishes to find out?

So, I wished for three things:

1. Money
2. Safety
3. Health

The creature had many conditions, but I heeded the warnings from ever story I’d ever been told about both genial and ghoulish genies. The Moon made the parameters of its wish-granting quite clear.

No wishing for more wishes.

No wishing for more wish-granters.

No wishing for things to give to other people.

No wishing for anything that would contradict the laws of your natural realm.

The ideal wishes seemed obvious.

Money.

More money than anyone could ever need. Obviously, I couldn’t shower loved ones with wealth. I kept my job to support my family, but I used the riches to support my own needs.

There’s always a catch with wishing. Becoming the wealthiest man on earth will make me a target. When I realised that, I had the idea for my second wish.

Safety.

I was not asking for security beyond the laws of nature. I simply wanted assurance that my financial safety net, if it were ever discovered, would be protected.

But what about security against the passage of time? I can’t wish for immortality… I can employ the world’s greatest doctors, of course, but that’s not enough.

Health.

I specified to the Moon that I was simply talking about safeguards which would abide by the laws of nature. For example, if I had a genetic proclivity towards developing certain diseases, either physical or mental, perhaps the wish-granter could provide a cure. Perhaps the Moon could simply conjure a cure for every ailment that could ever face a human being.

The rock conceded that, even if there were no current cure for certain illnesses, it could provide a solution for every health problem that might befall a human being. The Moon couldn’t make me live forever, but it could ensure that I live for an absurdly long time.

I thought I’d covered all of the bases. I truly believed I’d outsmarted some sort of deity. I was a fool. I never should’ve made any wishes, but I certainly shouldn’t have made the third wish.

Twenty years after my Australian encounter, my wealthy and healthy life took a sour turn. The Moon ensured that there would always be a cure in place for any ailment I would face. It had abolished my mental illness, thanks to a wondrous pill that I wasn’t permitted to share with others. So, this November, I wasn’t phased when my doctor gave a harrowing diagnosis.

“Congestive heart failure,” The woman tentatively said.

Not to worry, I thought. The wish-granter will fix it. It gave me a pill for my mental well-being, and I’m sure it’ll give me a new heart, too. Perhaps it’ll simply grow one for me.

I waited.

Like a werewolf in a kennel, I howled at the unresponsive moon for attention.

Nothing.

After weeks without solution, I started to feel consumed by dread. Has it forgotten about me? The wishes were supposed to apply for the rest of my life.

Then, one night, the Moon arrived. It didn’t speak from the sky, this time. It spoke from the darkness of my house. A floorboard groaned in the far corner of the living room. Heart thumping rhythmically against my ribcage, I found myself staring into the depths of my lounge’s darkened corner. Something was watching me. The direful creature I hadn’t seen for twenty years. It had no eyes or discernible shape, but it had awful white lips, which glowed like a deformed moon in the night sky.

Fear gripped me.

“It’s you,” I croaked.

“I am sorry,” The creature wheezed. “You do not have much time.”

“There’s a waiting list for heart transplants, but I thought you’d have some means of speeding things up,” I replied, trembling at the hidden thing in the corner of my room.

“Yes. I must grant your desire. It is my only purpose,” The Moon mouth maliciously whispered. “A wish is a contract. I will find a heart for you.”

Before the creature evaporated, its white, lifeless lips curled upwards into a malevolent grin. The almost-human expression filled me with a feeling of terror which cannot sufficiently translate to words.

Suddenly, I realised the dread in my heart was more than dread. Oh, fuck, I thought, as I clutched my chest. It’s happening. An invisible blade twisted into my heart, and I felt my body seize. Blackness swallowed my surroundings. My vision faded. Just one more time, I remember thinking. Let me see Wendy and Maisie one more time.

When I woke, I was in a hospital room. My chest felt light. It was the healthiest I’d felt in weeks. Wendy was sitting at my bedside, tears flooding her vacant eyes, and a smile was forcefully painted on her pale face.

“You’re awake,” My wife whispered.

I smiled. “Hello, sweetheart. I must’ve given you a scare. I feel much better now, though.”

She sobbed and squeezed my hand with tremendous strength. There was love in that squeeze, but there was also rage. Inconsolable rage.

“They did it, honey. They gave you… They… You…” She moaned like a wounded animal. “You have a new heart.”

That explained the lightness in my chest, but it didn’t explain the fear on my wife’s face. Her agonised expression haunted me. Why is she so distraught? I wondered, shuddering.

“Wendy…” I whispered. “What’s-“

“- Maisie,” My wife interrupted, now bawling. “This evening, she was in an accident. She… She… She didn’t…”

Wendy didn’t need to finish any of her sentences. I knew what had happened to our daughter. I knew whose heart was in my chest.

I knew what the Moon had done to grant my wish.