It was your typical Friday night in my tiny little town of Summersville. Teenage boys were out partyin’… Some of ‘em gettin’ boozed up and comin’ home late. Some of ‘em probly parked in vacant parkin’ lots, makin’ out with their girlfriends — fingers crossed that she would let ‘em go a little bit further this time than the last. As appealin’ as all these things sounded, I was preoccupied with more important obligations. Well, I don’t suppose it’s really an obligation. But nonetheless, I do feel obligated. I can’t help but to feel that way. Before I get to tellin’ you the story, I reckon I should start by introducin’ myself. My name’s Johnny Kole Walker. And ya see, I’m a bit different than other teenage boys. I don’t spend my nights partyin’ or tryin’ to get to second base with the pretty lil redhead down the street. I don’t spend ‘em under the hood of my rusty old Ford or street racin’ till the fuzz show up. Nah… As messed up as it might sound, I spend my nights out in the meadow behind the farmhouse. Lyin’ on my back, gazin’ at the night sky. Not ‘cause I enjoy it or ‘cuz I’m a pansy or nothin’ like that… But ‘’cuz I’m what folks call a Wish Gazer. I reckon it’s a play on words. A cross between wish grantor and stargazer. Apparently folks like me are a real rare breed, too. And sometimes, I honestly ain’t sure if it’s a blessin’ or a curse. But I’ll tell ya, that one particular Friday night… It damn sure didn’t feel like no blessin’. I was just lyin’ there… flat on my back in the cool green grass, lookin’ up at the sky with all the voices swarmin’ around in my head like usual. They used to fill my head constantly. It damn near drove me crazy. But I finally learned how to control it. It took a lot of time and trainin’, and you’d better believe a hell of a lot of headaches, but I finally managed to calm the voices down. It first started back when I was just knee-high to a grasshopper. Heck, I couldn’t have been no older than five or six. I was hearin’ people’s wishes 24/7 nonstop. My kindergarten teacher thought I was bat shit crazy, and the kids at school was always makin’ jabs at me. But after a time, my folks finally realized what was goin’ on and found me a good trainer. His name is Garrett. He’s a Wish Gazer, too. Plus, he’s trained hundreds of other kids like me in his day. So now I only hear the voices when I’m gazin’. Anyway… I was stretched out in the meadow,… Listenin’ to the crickets chirp and waitin’ for the wishes to come rollin’ in. The first one was the hiss of an angry old lady. “I wish my dirtbag husband would just keel over already!” My eyes widened and I skipped over that star. I like to help people and all, but I can’t be assistin’ with old dirtbag husband murder. The next star, my eyes landed on the hushed whisper of a little girl. “I wish my cancer would go away so I can live to be 7 and have my Barbie birthday party.” My chest tightened. A tear slid down my cheek, and I clenched my fists in agony. I could always feel the emotional wishes. I’m somethin’ like a sponge. It literally feels like I’m soakin’ in their anguish… Their pain. Technically, I ain’t never supposed to play God. Which means I ain’t supposed to meddle or dabble in medical affairs or bring people back to life. I mean, obviously I can’t bring nobody back to life. But if I wanted to, I could bring their spirits back to earth. But that is somethin’ I am absolutely never supposed to do. Or there could be serious consequences. Speakin’ of rules, there are really only three important ones. As I mentioned… No medical, no spirits, and when I’m gazin’… I can NEVER EVER let my eyes drift too close to the moon. The moon is where all the forbidden wishes are stored. And I don’t mean, forbidden as in “I wish my dirtbag husband was dead’’ or “I wish my cancer would kick rocks’’… I’m talkin’ forbidden as in pure darn evil. Forbidden as in absolutely NO TREAD ZONE. As in if granted, just one moon wish could potentially destroy the whole universe type of forbidden. Nobody knows what happens if a moon wish is granted, ‘cuz ain’t nobody ever been brave enough – er, well, I reckon I should say just plain ol’ stupid enough – to gaze up at the moon long enough to find out. Well… ALMOST nobody. ‘Cuz What do you think happened on that typical Friday night in the tiny little town of Summersville while all the other teenage boys were out livin’ normal lives? You got it! Dumb ol’ Johnny Walker got his eyes too close to the moon. All the forbidden moon wishes were granted in one lightnin’ bright flash. And you can bet your bottom dollar that dumb ol’ Johnny Walker – along with the rest of the whole darn universe – got hell to pay now, no doubt!