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fandomweekly2026-04-03 02:27 pm
badly_knitted) wrote in fandomweekly2026-04-03 02:27 pm
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[#295] If Wishes Were Horses (The Fantastic Journey)
Theme Prompt: #295 – Wishful Thinking
Title: If Wishes Were Horses
Fandom: The Fantastic Journey
Rating/Warnings: PG
Bonus: Yes.
Word Count: 1000
Summary: All the wishing in the world might not be enough to make their journey any easier, but the travellers can hope.
Was it only a few weeks ago that Fred had been wishing, as the small group of travellers passed though one of the gateways into a new zone, for a bus? A bus full of familiar faces from his time, transport and the comfort of the known, the knowable, instead of this constant succession of unknowns…
At the time, Willaway’s thoughts had been focused on more refined pleasures, such as a really good vintage wine, because if one was going to wish for anything, it should be something more worthwhile than public transport. But now, after walking for what must surely have been several hundred miles, he was beginning to think Fred had been right. Vintage wines were, of course, highly desirable, but some mode of transport other than their own feet would be more than welcome.
He sighed heavily as he plodded onwards across treacherously uneven ground that seemed determined to trip him or cause him to turn an ankle every few steps, aware that he wasn’t the only one having a difficult time. His footwear might not exactly be ideal for walking such long distances, but Liana’s high-heeled boots were considerably worse, which was no doubt why she was keeping close to Varian, grateful for a steadying arm to hold onto.
“Willaway? You okay?” Fred asked, dropping back to walk alongside the older man.
“Yes, fine, just as fed up as everyone must be of trying not to trip on things we can’t even see through all this grass.” It was so long it reached almost to Willaway’s waist, obscuring the ground even though he’d been trying to follow in the wake of his fellow travellers. “What I wouldn’t be willing to give right now for a smoothly paved road, or even a footpath, so I can see where I’m walking.”
Fred let out a laugh. “Sounds like your priorities have changed a bit.”
“Yes, well, seven weeks of walking almost every day will do that.” Willaway stumbled over a rock or something, and Fred caught his arm. “Thank you. The only positive I can see in our current situation is that we must be almost across this zone by now, and none of us have actually fallen over. Yet.”
Abruptly, an outcropping of rock appeared ahead, like an island in a sea of grass, and reaching it, everyone stopped, looking around at each other with relieved smiles, as if they’d reached sanctuary, an unexpected place of safety.
“We’ll rest here for a while,” Varian said, setting his bag down and climbing up the rocks to stand at the top.
Scott scrambled up beside him. “See anything?”
The tall man smiled down at the boy. “A lot of grass.” A brisk breeze coming from the southwest made the grass ripple like an ocean.
Willaway found an easier route up and joined the other two, sitting down with his legs dangling over the edge. Taking the weight off his feet felt like luxury. “The sooner we get out of here, the happier I’ll be. How much further do you think it might be to the next gateway?”
Varian stared eastwards across the shifting, rustling waves of grass. “Another mile, perhaps a little more, and then…” He trailed off, shaking his head. There was no way to know what they might face in the next zone, not until they got there.
“Anything has to be better than this.” Willaway flexed his ankles. “It’s a miracle no one’s fallen and broken something.”
“Maybe there’ll be people in the next zone.” Scott sat down beside Willaway, idly kicking his feet against the rock as Fred dug one of the water canteens from his holdall and passed it around. “A city, where we can stay for a couple of days.”
“Somewhere with real beds, and hot water.” Liana set Sil-El down, so that the cat could explore amongst the rocks. “That would be good.”
“Not just hot water,” Willaway added, “but hot food. A cooked meal would be a very welcome change.” They hadn’t had anything hot, anything substantial at least, for more than two weeks. The apples they’d baked among the coals of their campfire ten days ago didn’t count: they’d been no more than a tasty snack.
“You never know.” Varian settled on the warm rocks with a sigh, as tired as his friends were. Struggling through the long grass and weeds as they tangled and tugged at legs and feet and clothing was far harder than it sounded. “We’re about due some better luck.”
“Yeah,” Fred agreed. “With everything this island’s been throwin’ at us lately, we deserve a break. Maybe some transport too.”
“I doubt we’ll find any buses out here.” Willaway offered up a wry smile. “There seem to be strict limits on what mechanical devises work, and so far, the only form of transportation we’ve found has been the occasional horse.”
“Horses would be fine, or a horse and cart. I’m not gonna be picky.”
“Wishful thinking is all very well, Fred.” Willaway took a drink of water and passed the canteen back. “But I don’t think a cart would be much use here; all the lumps and bumps would be enough to break an axle. And what if the next zone is a jungle, or a swamp?”
“D’you have to work at bein’ such a pessimist, or does it come naturally?”
“I’m just saying, we can wish all we want, but we don’t know what’s ahead of us.”
“And we won’t find out by just sitting here,” Varian said, levering himself to his feet. “We’d do well to be out of this zone before nightfall. Hopefully the next zone will be a better place to camp for the night. Now we’re rested, it shouldn’t take us more than half an hour to get there.”
“So sayeth our resident optimist,” Willaway said with a smile as he stood up.
“Lucky we’ve got one of each, to keep our expectations manageable,” Fred joked, grinning at Varian. “Lead on!”
The End
At the time, Willaway’s thoughts had been focused on more refined pleasures, such as a really good vintage wine, because if one was going to wish for anything, it should be something more worthwhile than public transport. But now, after walking for what must surely have been several hundred miles, he was beginning to think Fred had been right. Vintage wines were, of course, highly desirable, but some mode of transport other than their own feet would be more than welcome.
He sighed heavily as he plodded onwards across treacherously uneven ground that seemed determined to trip him or cause him to turn an ankle every few steps, aware that he wasn’t the only one having a difficult time. His footwear might not exactly be ideal for walking such long distances, but Liana’s high-heeled boots were considerably worse, which was no doubt why she was keeping close to Varian, grateful for a steadying arm to hold onto.
“Willaway? You okay?” Fred asked, dropping back to walk alongside the older man.
“Yes, fine, just as fed up as everyone must be of trying not to trip on things we can’t even see through all this grass.” It was so long it reached almost to Willaway’s waist, obscuring the ground even though he’d been trying to follow in the wake of his fellow travellers. “What I wouldn’t be willing to give right now for a smoothly paved road, or even a footpath, so I can see where I’m walking.”
Fred let out a laugh. “Sounds like your priorities have changed a bit.”
“Yes, well, seven weeks of walking almost every day will do that.” Willaway stumbled over a rock or something, and Fred caught his arm. “Thank you. The only positive I can see in our current situation is that we must be almost across this zone by now, and none of us have actually fallen over. Yet.”
Abruptly, an outcropping of rock appeared ahead, like an island in a sea of grass, and reaching it, everyone stopped, looking around at each other with relieved smiles, as if they’d reached sanctuary, an unexpected place of safety.
“We’ll rest here for a while,” Varian said, setting his bag down and climbing up the rocks to stand at the top.
Scott scrambled up beside him. “See anything?”
The tall man smiled down at the boy. “A lot of grass.” A brisk breeze coming from the southwest made the grass ripple like an ocean.
Willaway found an easier route up and joined the other two, sitting down with his legs dangling over the edge. Taking the weight off his feet felt like luxury. “The sooner we get out of here, the happier I’ll be. How much further do you think it might be to the next gateway?”
Varian stared eastwards across the shifting, rustling waves of grass. “Another mile, perhaps a little more, and then…” He trailed off, shaking his head. There was no way to know what they might face in the next zone, not until they got there.
“Anything has to be better than this.” Willaway flexed his ankles. “It’s a miracle no one’s fallen and broken something.”
“Maybe there’ll be people in the next zone.” Scott sat down beside Willaway, idly kicking his feet against the rock as Fred dug one of the water canteens from his holdall and passed it around. “A city, where we can stay for a couple of days.”
“Somewhere with real beds, and hot water.” Liana set Sil-El down, so that the cat could explore amongst the rocks. “That would be good.”
“Not just hot water,” Willaway added, “but hot food. A cooked meal would be a very welcome change.” They hadn’t had anything hot, anything substantial at least, for more than two weeks. The apples they’d baked among the coals of their campfire ten days ago didn’t count: they’d been no more than a tasty snack.
“You never know.” Varian settled on the warm rocks with a sigh, as tired as his friends were. Struggling through the long grass and weeds as they tangled and tugged at legs and feet and clothing was far harder than it sounded. “We’re about due some better luck.”
“Yeah,” Fred agreed. “With everything this island’s been throwin’ at us lately, we deserve a break. Maybe some transport too.”
“I doubt we’ll find any buses out here.” Willaway offered up a wry smile. “There seem to be strict limits on what mechanical devises work, and so far, the only form of transportation we’ve found has been the occasional horse.”
“Horses would be fine, or a horse and cart. I’m not gonna be picky.”
“Wishful thinking is all very well, Fred.” Willaway took a drink of water and passed the canteen back. “But I don’t think a cart would be much use here; all the lumps and bumps would be enough to break an axle. And what if the next zone is a jungle, or a swamp?”
“D’you have to work at bein’ such a pessimist, or does it come naturally?”
“I’m just saying, we can wish all we want, but we don’t know what’s ahead of us.”
“And we won’t find out by just sitting here,” Varian said, levering himself to his feet. “We’d do well to be out of this zone before nightfall. Hopefully the next zone will be a better place to camp for the night. Now we’re rested, it shouldn’t take us more than half an hour to get there.”
“So sayeth our resident optimist,” Willaway said with a smile as he stood up.
“Lucky we’ve got one of each, to keep our expectations manageable,” Fred joked, grinning at Varian. “Lead on!”
The End
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They do at least get an occasional hot meal.