Wishing Well

Maisy peeked over the splintered kitchen island and spotted her target. Grumbleberry extract, sitting unattended by the servants as they prepare their lord's supper. She would need to get past the space between the island and the table by the fireplace without being spotted. She felt at her side and opened her satchel, counting the items inside as a reassurance. One, two, three, four, one, two, three, four, and very soon to be five. She popped back over the top, and saw the fish being plated; she readied. The servants filed out the door quickly on their feet with trays in hand. Even with no one in the room, Maisy crab walked with tiptoe steps across the floor and up to the table. She snatched the bottle and snuck out of the house back through the window she came in. She landed lightly and slid back-to-the-wall until she was facing the forest. She slipped the bottle into her satchel and took off into the dense trees. Maisy took a breath once she had been jogging for long enough to make her chest burn and slipped open her satchel. She placed the bottle in. One, two, three, four, five.

Maisy was cursed since she was young. Due to this curse, she was so melancholy all the time that she had cast herself out of town to spend her days weeping on the floor of her wooden shed. Some townsfolk she saw often in passing but she never spoke more than a few lines. This curse had a number of different effects. Some days she could be seizing with nervous energy and the next catatonic. Its one cruel consistency is that it is always thrumming in the background. About a month ago a sorcerer merchant came into town selling maps and tips. Maisy explained the nature of her curse and answered the following obligatory questions. Does she know who cast it: No. Does she know when it was cast: No. Does she know anything about the nature of the curse: other than it has seized her life? No. She watched the merchant's face as he thought about what to tell her. She listened intently when told of a wishing well three days south. It granted one wish per customer and spoke aloud. She would need to give up five items to the well, share her lament, and sit back as her horrible curse died. She bought what she needed and from him started looking for supplies that day in her final effort.

She slowed to a walk after confidence set in that she was not being followed. It hadn't taken her long to collect the ingredients she needed. Her five items, the key to her future weighed in her satchel. The Grumbleberry wasn't too difficult to get. Fetching the Musky Sap had her climbing up trees with a metal spicket. Not that she minded any task where she could keep to herself. The Dotted Pike Jerky was by far the most challenging. She had to walk clear down to the tavern by the docks and barter with smelly fishmen. She had traded them premium spirits that she scooped from the lake by hand. Maybe the algae will have some woozying effect. She gathered her tangled hair in front of her shoulders and combed it with her fingers. How could she forget getting that drop of blood from a sworn enemy? Pierce from the bakery frowned deeply at the revelation that he was her nemesis. She just had to explain that out of the very few people she spoke to, he just happened to be the worst. Nothing personal from her really, his bread is just exceeding stale. Since her shed is next to the bakery, sometimes Maisy will spot him looking at her through his window. She has his stale bread more often than she'd like, out of convenience. She braided together her strands of hair and tied off the end with a bit of string. The Mint Flower was a two-day journey on foot to the north. That was the first item she got. On that walk, she remembered mulling over her life. She is so often bound to the floor unable to speak or move much at all. She is unable to love or be cared for because who would elect to carry this burden along her side?

Maisy moved to sit under a tree. Her curse weighed heavily today and she needed to rest. She leaned against the trunk and began to cry. Not sobbing or wailing, she just let her hot tears drain. Her stomach felt cramped so she grabbed a crusty roll from her satchel. Maisy turned over the bready rock in her hands and wished she could be done. She's so close now. She took several deep gulps of air and thought about everything she's done trying to break this damn curse. Maisy has consulted high wizards, licked bumpy toads, commissioned alchemists, and spent all the time in between simply wishing the curse away in the hopes that it will feel so unwelcome in her body that it combusts. She brought the rock to her mouth and gnawed on it; imagining what she could have done in her life.

She managed to drag her bones back to her shed and slump on her hammock out front. She lay on her back and rocked herself by swinging her leg. Looking up at the apple trees she was tethered to, she thought of her parents. Maisy always wondered if they got rid of her because they knew they was cursed; she assumed so. She was left as a baby on the doorstep of a church, She lived with Tobias first. The friar was kind but gave her far too much alone time. In the end, having a child was too much work. Tobias’s cousin, Cassidy, who was dirt poor but understood how her curse made it difficult to do chores. She simply couldn't afford to feed another mouth. After that Maisy lived with Samuel her school teacher who helped her research and travel in efforts to break her curse. This rejection hurt the most. They had gotten back from seeing a hypnotist in a journey that took five days and required a boat. Maisy walked in the door upon their return and couldn't even make it to her room before collapsing on the floor in tears. She curled up in a ball expecting to be left alone until she dried up, but Samuel was furious. To see her condition take over after such a time-consuming loss was too much. Perhaps it was his stubborn nature feeling bruised that he couldn't succeed in fixing her. Perhaps he had just had enough. He said that she was old enough now to be on her own and she needed to take breaking her curse into her own hands. After that, she became a nomad. Samuel did leave her with some money and enough know-how to complete odd jobs. Maisy traveled from village to town, spoke to psychics and scholarly consulates. After enough failure, she settled down here at her royal shed to retire at her young age. While her life was full of sadness it was not without lived experience.

She dozed off but woke with great anxiety as the sun moved from behind the cloud and pushed hot light on her skin. Any other person might lounge, but this curse was overwhelming her one last time as if it knew it wouldn't get the chance again. She went inside to fetch what was necessary for the spell. She would approach the fated wishing well and she would not return home. She rounded the corner and grabbed an apple off a twin tree before beginning her lightly-packed journey. She estimates the distance she'll have to trek and it seems like such a burden as everything is. She takes the first step and l opens her satchel. One, two, three, four, five one, two, three, four, five. She cries as she walks but struggles to find grief for what she will lose. She hopes to find success after her journey; closure.

Maisy walked for days. It took her four hours since she took frequent breaks. She feels sweaty and sick and she approaches the top of the hill, where the well is supposedly on. Maisy brushes her hands over her items. Grumbleberry, Musky Sap, Dotted Pike Jerky, blood, Mint Flower, and her apple. Her heart beats fast, this will be her final moment of suffering. Maisy overcomes the top of the hill and looks at the mossy dank well. It didn't look very magical but she wasn't one to judge. She sucked air into her lungs and went to flip her satchel into the water, pausing to remove her apple. The items fell into the water, one, two, three, four, five, and a whirlpool formed up the sides of the greened brick. A voice echoed to Maisy.

“Offspring of Mother Nature and ancestor to all that will come, what is your one wish?”

Maisy’s wish is simple. She talks aloud with as much confidence as she can muster. “When I was young a curse was placed upon me. I do not know who cast it or from where it came, but breaking it has proven to be my life's most difficult task. I have traveled to the corners of the globe in my efforts. I have consulted high wizards, licked bumpy toads, commissioned alchemists, and spent all the time in between simply wishing the curse away in the hopes that it will feel so unwelcome in my body that it combusts. This curse, while long-lasting, is also cleverly dynamic. It has seized me as a dagger to the gut and it has seized me as a sickle spilling the grains of my efforts until I am burlap and stale air. It has seized my life, but it will seize me no longer. I wish to perish so my suffering will end.” Hot tears slid down her cheeks, and she felt herself hoping.

“Maisy, forgive me for my curiosity, why did you come to wish for death rather than for this curse to be broken?”

“In my efforts to rid it, I have found nothing but crushed hopes. My parting request is one of certainty.”

“Maisy, I have heard your lament and I understand your suffering. Look into the water as I command your wish into truth. Mother Nature, your offspring come here to perish. They have traveled to the corners of your earth to rid themselves of this curse. They have humbled the proudest high wizards and it was not cured. They have given purpose to the ugliest, bumpiest toads and it was not cured. They have entrusted the most eccentric alchemist, but it was not cured.

Maisy looked at the apple in her trembling hands and almost felt regretful that she wouldn't get to eat it. It was almost over now.

“They have spent the time between testing the limits of their will and it was not cured. They have felt pain in all its states of being and it was not cured. Maisy, before you have your parting request of certainty, I have one of my own. Are you certain that this curse has seized your life?”

Maisy doesn't know how to answer and waits for several beats. She mutters a half-hearted response, drops in a rock, nothing. She was abandoned once again or given false information. She was a fool to think that this effort would be different. She dropped to fold her knees into her chest, her ratty braid falling over her shoulder. She could almost laugh if she weren't so deeply emptied. She resigned to sit in this spot for however long it took to turn into mush. She didn't have Tobias, or Cassidy, or Samuel, or her parents. She was throwing in the handkerchief.

She heard footsteps making their way up to her and she became alert that she didn't know how much time had passed. Pierce spoke to her.

“I saw from the bakery that you didn't come home to your shed last night. The servants across the forest reported a grumbleberry-eating pest, plus you asked for my sworn enemy's blood, so I connected the dots that you went to the wishing well. Almost everyone in this town has tried."

Maisy let her curiosity overtake her emptiness. “What do you mean tried?”

“Dotted Pike haven't even been seen in several seasons, if a fish-man from the local docks sold you jerky then you're out of luck, it's some other fish. I have a conspiracy hey're working with the sorcerer merchant to make a business of his "tips."

A laugh burst out of Maisy at the irony. Neither she nor the fish-men had been honest in their deal. She felt secure in her decision to give them lake water liquor.

Maisy was so devastated that she hadn't even thought about what the well said. She remembered feeling proud that her travels were acknowledged as something meaningful. She looked to Pierce “It asked me if I'm sure my curse has seized my life?”

When she looked at Pierce’s eyes she knew he was picturing all the times he'd seen her hobbling around outside her shed. Instead, he looked back at her and said, “It's like how I'm your sworn enemy but you're also glad that I'm here now. Your curse comes to battle every day, but it has not sized you. Not as long as you can still laugh at the misfortunes."

She rubbed both hands over her face. She wondered how much of her pain was self-inflicted in trying to shove her cursed thoughts out by brute force. She thought about her hammock and swinging between twin apple trees. She thought about her past guardians and the sun. She thought of many beautiful things she had seen in her travels that she could not accept as wonderful. If she could not banish her cacophony curse she could learn to listen to the faint hum of joy playing at the same time.

She pondered about what he said, and what the well said, and a thankfulness that the wish didn’t work began to build. “It's for the best, it wouldn't have worked anyway, even with the jerky.”

“Why's that”

Maisy feels the weight rising but also feels gratitude. “Because I don't think I put the blood of an enemy in there either.”

Pierce smiled largely and Maisy looked down in embarrassment. Her eye caught the apple still in her hands. It was warm and had gone a bit soft. She takes a bite, and while her heart aches, at the same time the fruit is sweet.

Pierce stands and holds down a hand, beckoning her to join him. “It's time for breakfast now. I'll trade you a few rolls at the bakery if you tell me about your adventures.”

Maisy considered eating those dirt clods with someone she barely knew in a bakery where customers were bound to flood in. Her instincts told her no, but she had a taste of sweet fruit and wanted more. She grasped his hand and pulled herself up with the strength this new perspective gave her. They spoke as they walked.

“Pierce, have you ever thought of adding salt to your bread?”