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The Contrary Curse
The old gypsy woman had ruined his life. He hadn't meant to offend her. He couldn't even remember what he'd said now. How bad could it have been? But it was enough for her to have put the curse on him.
Alan stared longingly towards where Jane stood across the office floor where they worked. If only he could tell her how he felt. But that was the problem. He couldn't even if he tried. The old gypsy woman had cursed him to always say the opposite of what he meant.
That's how he'd ended up working here. He'd been at a meeting at the job centre and had unintentionally said that he loved office work. Alan would sooner put needles in his eyes than work in an office. But now here he was, in a job he hated, yearning for a woman he dared not speak to, knowing that he would say something incredibly offensive rather than complimentary and flattering.
He couldn't carry on like this. He needed to find the old gypsy woman and beg her to remove the curse. But damn it! all he'd be saying is "Don't remove my curse".
Alan's shoulders slumped. He turned around and headed outside where he stepped out into the busy road in front of a speeding SUV.
Alan bounced over the vehicle, his broken body landing in a twisted heap.
He stared up at the people who ran to his aid, their faces contorted in horrified sympathy.
Alan's last words were "I just want to die" and he realised as he was breathing his last breath the curse was finally broken. His freedom of expression had returned, but he would not live to use it.
The end
© Andrew J Sinclair
Alan stared longingly towards where Jane stood across the office floor where they worked. If only he could tell her how he felt. But that was the problem. He couldn't even if he tried. The old gypsy woman had cursed him to always say the opposite of what he meant.
That's how he'd ended up working here. He'd been at a meeting at the job centre and had unintentionally said that he loved office work. Alan would sooner put needles in his eyes than work in an office. But now here he was, in a job he hated, yearning for a woman he dared not speak to, knowing that he would say something incredibly offensive rather than complimentary and flattering.
He couldn't carry on like this. He needed to find the old gypsy woman and beg her to remove the curse. But damn it! all he'd be saying is "Don't remove my curse".
Alan's shoulders slumped. He turned around and headed outside where he stepped out into the busy road in front of a speeding SUV.
Alan bounced over the vehicle, his broken body landing in a twisted heap.
He stared up at the people who ran to his aid, their faces contorted in horrified sympathy.
Alan's last words were "I just want to die" and he realised as he was breathing his last breath the curse was finally broken. His freedom of expression had returned, but he would not live to use it.
The end
© Andrew J Sinclair
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