You can't have everything

Marla loved stories of magic. She spent her nights reading old grimoires and fairy tales, fascinated by witches, curses, and the power of wishes. When she stumbled upon an antique store tucked away in a forgotten alley, the sign reading “Curiosities and Wonders” was too tempting to resist.

Inside, the shop smelled of age and mystery. Shelves overflowed with peculiar trinkets: vials of dried herbs, faded books, and tarnished jewelry. But one item caught Marla’s eye — an ornate silver music box engraved with swirling, unfamiliar symbols.

The shopkeeper, an elderly man with sunken eyes and a voice like crumbling leaves, emerged from the shadows.

“Ah, you have an eye for the rare,” he said, his smile unsettling.

“What’s this?” Marla asked, brushing her fingers over the box’s cool surface.

“A wishing box,” he replied. “Open it, make a wish, and the box will grant it. But remember…” He paused, his gaze piercing. “Be careful what you wish for.”

Marla’s heart quickened. She’d always dreamed of something magical like this. Without hesitation, she handed over the money and took the box home.

That night, under the flickering glow of a single candle, Marla placed the music box on her desk. The shopkeeper’s warning echoed in her mind, but desire drowned out caution. She turned the delicate crank, and a haunting melody filled the room.

The lid creaked open, revealing an empty, velvet-lined interior. Marla closed her eyes and whispered:

“I wish for everything I’ve ever wanted.”

The music slowed. For a moment, nothing happened. She felt foolish. But then the air thickened, charged with an electric tension. The candle sputtered, plunging the room into darkness.

The next morning, Marla woke to an email from her publisher. Her novel, rejected a dozen times before, had been accepted. Her phone buzzed incessantly with messages from old friends and admirers. By afternoon, a long-lost relative called to inform her she’d inherited a vast fortune.

It was everything she’d ever wanted.

But as the days passed, strange things began to happen. Her neighbor, who had always ignored her, now stood at his window, staring at her for hours. Strangers on the street stopped to watch her, their faces blank, as though they knew her but couldn’t place why.

The cat she’d rescued a year ago — her only companion — hissed and cowered whenever she entered the room.

One night, Marla heard the faint melody of the music box. She searched the house, but the box was no longer where she’d left it.

A week later, Marla attended a lavish gala, her newfound wealth on full display. Dressed in a designer gown, she basked in admiration. But unease gnawed at her. Eyes followed her every move, their gazes heavy with expectation.

Seeking relief, she escaped to the balcony, but she wasn’t alone.

The shopkeeper stood in the shadows, his face obscured by a wide-brimmed hat.

“You seem troubled,” he said, stepping closer.

Marla’s heart pounded. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see how you’re enjoying your wish,” he said, his voice calm, almost mocking.

“It’s…” She hesitated. “It’s not what I expected.”

The shopkeeper tilted his head, his sunken eyes glinting. “Ah, that’s the thing about wishes. They take everything into account — even the parts you didn’t realize you wanted.”

“What does that mean?”

The shopkeeper smiled, his teeth sharp and glinting in the moonlight. “Everything you’ve ever wanted comes at a cost. The balance must be maintained.”

Before she could respond, the haunting melody filled the air, deafening and suffocating. The world twisted and warped, and the gala vanished.

Marla found herself back in her childhood bedroom. The dim glow of a streetlamp outside cast long shadows across her old bookshelf and frayed quilt. Her chest tightened with dread.

This was where her dreams of wealth, fame, and admiration had begun — born from loneliness, nights spent wishing for a world that cared about her.

The music box sat on the bed, its lid slowly creaking open. The haunting melody grew louder, and then it began to speak.

Not with words, but with memories.

Marla saw herself, sitting alone at her school desk, wishing to be the smartest person in the room so others would admire her. She saw herself at her first job, burning with envy as a colleague was promoted, silently wishing for their failure. She saw herself at a party, glancing at a happy couple and wishing their love would shatter so she could have what they had.

And then she heard her own voice whisper the wish from days ago:

“I wish for everything I’ve ever wanted.”

The shadows coalesced into a figure: her doppelgänger.

But this wasn’t just another version of Marla. This version was eerily perfect — polished, radiant, dripping with confidence and charm.

The reflection smiled coldly.

“You wanted to be adored,” the doppelgänger said. “You wanted the world to kneel before you. And now it does.”

“What… what do you mean?” Marla stammered.

The doppelgänger stepped closer, her movements unnaturally smooth.

“The wish wasn’t just for everything you ever wanted — it was for everything you thought you deserved. You wanted to be the only one who mattered. And now, I’m here to ensure that’s true.”

Marla’s blood ran cold. “You’re going to take my place?”

“Not take it,” the doppelgänger said, her smile widening. “I am your place. I’m the Marla the world loves — the version of you that doesn’t falter, doesn’t doubt. The perfect you. There’s no room for both of us.”

The music box’s melody rose to a fever pitch. Marla screamed as the shadows of her perfect self wrapped around her like vines, dragging her toward the box.

Her fingernails clawed at the floor, but it was no use. The last thing she saw was her doppelgänger smiling as the lid of the box closed.

The next morning, “Marla” woke in her lavish apartment, radiant and composed. She answered calls and messages with effortless charm. No one noticed the change.

The music box now sat on her shelf, its melody faintly audible. Inside, Marla’s screams echoed endlessly in the darkness.

The End.