Curse of the Mundane

I can’t remember the last time that something interesting had happened. My boringly mundane life was the same no matter how I tried to describe it. Every day, I woke up and went to work. A fine job in an insurance company where I sat at my desk cold calling potential clients. I made good money and to the extent that I could, enjoyed what I was doing. Then at exactly 4:55, I would begin to pack up my things and I would be in my car by 5:01. 

That was the basis of my daily routine.

Some things were different. Maybe that Wednesday I would go out to get drinks with a couple of friends and get home so wasted that the next day, cold calling clients only resulted in major headaches. Or maybe a few times a year I would take a day off and go to the beach. Let my hair blow in the wind as my hands stroked the warm sand. And on the best days of my life, I would go to my favorite spot in my home, the stairs, and read a book in the calm of day, as the sun set through the window.

But ultimately it was the same. Every day.

And would be the same. Forever. 

But then, in an almost movie ironic way, that Tuesday afternoon, just as I was about to reach out to my 10^th lead that day, the phone rang. I stared at it, almost having forgotten that phones could do that without my prodding. But then, I remembered myself and picked up the phone, lifting it to my ear in a new anticipation.

“Hello? Maura, are you there?” They had spoken before I could. 

“Uhm- Yes, yes! This is Maura.” 

My eyes widened as I recognized an old voice. One almost forgotten in the depth of my memory, “Maura! It’s me, Donavan. I don’t know if you remember me but-“

“Yes!” I practically yelled into the phone and then pulled back amazed, “Sorry.” I coughed, “Yes, how are you?”

“Maura. You’ll never believe it. Something incredible happened,” His voice rang with the excitement of a teenager I had known years ago, “Do you remember the old wishing well?”

The Wishing Well.

The words sent a nervous shiver through my arms, the phone becoming a heavy weight, “Of course.” Danger pounding in my head.

“It works! The Wishing Well works! I had to call and tell you because-” I could practically see the delight in his eyes over the phone. I had also felt it once. 

Despite the confliction I was feeling, I cried out, “Donavan, don’t use the wishing well.”

Static filled the other side of the call. I cursed and threw the phone to the desk. How could someone else find it. Let alone use the stupid thing.

Images of my sledge hammer hitting stone flashed before my eyes as I scrambled to my supervisor’s office, “I’m feeling sick, I need to go home,” I could barely huff out the words.

One way or another, this was going to end. 

Without waiting for a response, I flew from the office, barely able to contain my emotion. I glanced at my cubicle but didn’t bother to grab anything. Tears welled in my eyes as the realization hit me. 

I ran out the door, on my way to the wishing well. 

Two days later, I was standing next to the old well, the water long gone, leaving behind a bottomless pit decorated with cobblestone edging. It was as sound as the day I had come to destroy it. Perfectly and completely whole. The words danced in my mind.

Each time a person makes a wish, you will gain a little piece of your freedom. And they will lose a little of their’s.

Years ago, I had thrown my last coin into the well. Those had been the words that had filled my mind for days. Where they had come from I wasn’t sure. All I knew from that point on, was that I wasn’t free. My choices weren’t my own. I had somehow been cursed to a life, that while not horrible from the outside, tortured me. The pattern of my life was it’s own sort of inescapable death.

In my last moments of freedom, I had used my last will to destroy the well, so no one would be cursed like I would be. Apparently I had failed. 

The mere fact that I could lie and take a few days off was proof that down at the bottom of the pit, sitting alongside my coins and the coins of those before me, sat at least one coin belonging to Donavan. 

“How did you find this place?” I shook my head at my eerie surroundings.

In that moment, I felt the pull again. Away from the well, and back to my own reality. That was a good sign, maybe it wasn’t too late for him.

I slowly made my way back to my hotel room. I wanted to stay by the well, see if I could catch Donavan before he made another stupid mistake but I could feel the pull, forcing me back to my routine.

I found myself over the next week, falling back into the daily routine. While I managed to avoid going back to work for a few days, every night I went to bed at 10:30 on the dot, waking up at exactly 6:30 the next day. And then, back to work I was. It was a good sign. Maybe he hadn’t been too stupid after all. 

It wasn’t until 11 days after that fateful call that I could feel something else begin to shift. I went to the grocery store hoping I was wrong. I walked through the doors, and stared at my two potential directions. Even as I began to walk away from the produce, I knew that back at the well, a coin was falling. Instead of the normal pre-made salad, I walked straight to the candy isle, grabbed a pack of sour patch kids, and scanned it out in the self checkout. As I got in my car and felt the bit of the sugar melt against my tongue my fears were confirmed.

Everything after that day became a little easier. I couldn’t manage to get back to the well but rather than sitting calling strangers about insurance they likely didn’t want, I was able to make calls to Donavan. But he never answered.

As the phone rang, I thought back to the addicting feeling of a wish coming true. Of something impossible coming to fruition. The moments throwing the coins down the well were some of the best feelings I had ever had, even if they did lead to the torture following.

Now, for reasons I didn’t know, my childhood best friend was out there, experiencing it like I had years ago.

As the voicemail tone rang again, I whispered, “Please, don’t do what I did.”

It was likely futile.

Things began to change even more over the week. I was able to say no to a night out. I could put down my book and watch a movie. Every time I found myself able to do something new, guilt and excitement filled me, raising tears to my eyes. Every time I enjoyed myself, doing something new, a pang of guilt reminded me that Donavan was now discovering something he couldn’t do anymore.

It was too much. I wouldn’t let him be trapped. He couldn’t be. I hadn’t talked to him in years, but I would not curse him to the life I was living. I was determined to stop him.

10 coins.

10 dreams come true.

That was the worth of our lives.

After that, your will was that of the Wishing Well.

And when I walked into work, almost three weeks after the first call, I knew there was likely only one left. My lungs filled with air, and something so heavy lifted away as I stared at my computer, I realized I could finally do it.

I stood up. I didn’t feel a thing telling me no as I skipped out the door, not even bothering to quit. When I erupted from the doors, I let the world sink in. For the longest time I reveled in the peace I felt. I used to be unable to feel the vibrations of the street, or hear the whistle of the wind. But it was all back, in an almost overwhelming amount.

It was almost too late. I knew there was something I had to do. I sprinted to my apartment, packed a bag and scribbled a note, leaving a check and the note attached to my landlord’s door. It told him that I wouldn’t be back, he could sell anything left.

While I was trying to stop Donavan, a part of me hoped that if I did, screwing up my life would force the curse to take me somewhere else. Anything else. 

Or maybe part of me hoped I would be too late.

What must have been at least a month since the call, my plane finally landed on the ground in the place I used to call home. I handed the flight attendant a tip and asked if I could have one last bag of sour patch before trying my best to calmly walk out of the airport. I scarfed it down, hoping it wouldn’t be the last time. 

Praying it would be.

As quickly as I could, I made my way to the woods. Where the Wishing Well sat, feeling my presence approaching, probably laughing at my attempts. 

I knew there would still be some sort of attachment until he threw the last wish, but that couldn’t stop me. In the distance, I could see him. 

Donavan.

His dark skin gleamed in the sunlights, his hair ratted and unkept. I could see in his hand was a quarter, bright and shining. His hands trembled as he fumbled with it, like he was trying to talk himself out of it.

Was this what I had looked like?

“Don’t!”

He jumped and looked at me, “Maura! You’re here.” I raced to him and threw my arms around him, ignoring the smell like he hadn’t washed in days. But when I pulled away I realized he hadn’t moved or hugged back. His eyes were still on the coin.

“Maura. I don’t know why I called you. Something made me.” I looked into his eyes and I realized that he was almost gone. Almost the zombie I had been for so long. But he was still in there, I could see the glimmer of it somewhere.

“The well made you. It was a warning to me. Telling me my time was almost over.” I grabbed his hand and tried to pull the coin away but he wouldn’t let me.

“I can’t give this to you. I have to do it. Just one more.” He said, his gaze unwavering from the Wishing Well.

“It’s not worth it.” I said, trying to block his view, but he continued to side step me as I tried.

“It’s done everything I’ve asked.”

Tears began to spring into my eyes yet again, “It hasn’t.” I thought back to my own wishes, “Think. Tell me in your right mind that everything you’ve asked for was what you got.”

My money had burned.

My home had been destroyed.

Every wish I had asked for had turned around and came back in one distorted way or another.

Donavan finally glanced down at me and I knew it was true, but pushed me away, “Everything will work itself out. I’ll get what I want. Just like you did!”

“But I didn’t!”

He looked at me and held out his hand, the coin laying gently in his palm, “If you don’t want me to do it, then take the coin from me. Force me to do your bidding,” 

Do it, I thought. I wanted to. I lifted my arm, the silver was only inches from my fingers. I tried to reach out, to grab it. But then I felt the familiar pull, telling me no. Maybe I could overcome it. Did I want to?

“I don’t think I can.” I finally whispered.

Donavan looked at me with resignation, “I knew you wouldn’t be able to. I’ll wish this one last time, and then I’ll be done.” He gave me a quiet smile, barely concealing how absolutely wrecked he was behind the ripped clothing and rotting teeth.

My mind screamed as he closed his hand and held it over the well.

The Wishing Well seemed to pulse with anticipation, begging him to let go.

“Don’t do it!” I finally screamed before a raging migraine pulsated in my head, collapsing me to the ground.

“I have to.” In one easy motion, Donavan opened up his hand, and I watched in terror as the coin fell silently to the depths below.

All was quiet for a moment.

But then I felt it. Pure bliss.

I closed my eyes and reveled in how it felt. I was free. Free. And then I opened my eyes.

Donavan was at the edge of the well resting his arms on the edge. It was as if magic had changed him. His rumpled clothes had turned into a suit and tie. His filthy hair and skin, cleaned and shiny.

“Maura.” He said and nodded. It was terrifying as he turned and began to walk away. Back to the town.

I could feel the tears running down my cheeks. He was gone.

          … 

A week later, I sat at my kitchen table, writing a letter to my sister. I hadn’t talked to her in years but now I finally could. I was free. In the week that had followed, somehow, my luck had shifted for the better. A women had handed me a lottery ticket worth $300,000. A head hunter called my cell and offered me an executive level position at a tech company. I had even met someone online and had gone on a few promising dates. Deep inside I loathed it for one reason along. They were all the wishes I had given so many years ago. 

I used the money to find a house and settle in a small town thousands of miles away from the Wishing Well and from where I knew Donavan now worked. I had followed him for a while but once he had begun to settle in, it became far too much for me. I couldn't watch him be tortured like I was.

After years of the same, my life had completely changed. In one month, my entire life became something new, adventurous, and free. While some of the wishes that came true, like the neon pink Lamborghini, reflected my 13 year old self guessing what I would want later in life, most were good. 

Was the time cursed worth it?

As I sat eating candy, writing to my family, having a job I loved, I had a moment of silence for Donavan. I hoped that when he awoke he wouldn’t hate me for not taking the coin from him. That he would forgive me for enjoying my freedom. If he ever found out that in that last moment I, not the Well, had chosen to not take the coin, maybe he would hate me or curse my existence. But part of me knew he would understand.