Chapter 2: A Fatal Wish - Lemuel

Have I mentioned I fucking hate my life?

As I was saying, I’ve granted many wishes over the years, and as much as this wish seems like just deserts, the fact I’ve been made to watch it unfold makes it feel sordid. I’m sitting in Tommaso’s car – as I’ve learned his name to be – watching his wife ride some guy's dick in the front seat of her red BMW convertible in some seedy make-out point that overlooks the Ionian Sea.

I focus my attention on the view of crystal blue waters that span as far as the eye can see. In this direction, I see no land on the horizon, just a vast sea with endless possibilities. There’s something soothing about watching the waves dancing along the surface of the water. The more I watch it the more hypnotised by them I become. I don’t know why, but I’ve always loved the ocean. I even spent a few years living on a yacht, staying as far from land as I could. It was the most at peace I ever felt. Sure, it was lonely, but I’ve gotten accustomed to loneliness after all these years. In fact, I prefer it. As long as I’m alone, it means nothing and no one can hurt me.

“It’s happening! Oh my God, it’s happening!” Tommaso shouts with excitement as he repeatedly smacks my arm to get my attention. Glad to see someone is enjoying themselves because I’m sure as fuck not.

I begrudgingly turn my attention to the scene unfolding before us. We watch as the Italian police arrive and surround the BMW, ordering Tommaso’s wife and her lover out of the car. I glance at Tommaso to see a look of complete exhilaration on his face that makes me feel ill.

I can’t tell you how many people I have encountered who wish for revenge on their cheating spouses. That or revenge on asshole bosses. Those are the two most popular scenarios. Very rarely does someone ask for anything noble or wholesome. It happens, it’s just rare. My life predominantly consists of granting wishes to people who just want to hurt other people, but I guess that’s why this curse was placed upon me. It gives me a taste of my own medicine so to speak, and I can safely say the medicine is beyond bitter at this point.

Tommaso wished for his wife and her lover to be caught in the act by police. He’s even recording this entire event on his phone. His wife is in tears, hysterically crying and trying to fix her clothes while she is placed in handcuffs as she and her lover are arrested for public indecency since sex in public is illegal in Italy. Tommaso was also sure to wish that she be charged with solicitation, even though that never happened. But a wish is a wish and I’m magically bound to grant it whether I like it or not.

I don’t know the circumstances of why she’s cheating. Maybe she’s just a bitch. In which case, I suppose she deserves this. Or maybe she’s in a loveless marriage, or this voyeuristic fucker beside me is abusive and she found love and intimacy elsewhere. That’s why I hate not being able to decide who I grant a wish to. I hate being an instrument used to hurt people when I don’t even know if they deserve it. If they deserve it, fine, but if they are just an innocent person harmed by my magic, I have to live with that shit for the rest of eternity. That bitch Merlos truly is a cunt.

We watch as Tommaso’s wife and her lover are placed into the back of the police car and driven away. Once the car is out of sight, Tommaso stops recording and gets out of his car, walks over to his wife’s car, and proceeds to dance around like the cat that got the cream. It’s disturbing, to say the least.

I get out of the car, rub my wrist that was free of its magical chain the moment I granted his wish, then slide my hands into my slacks and walk over to him.

“Did you see them? Oh my god, the look on their faces was priceless! She looked so mortified,” he chortles.

“I take it you’re happy then,” I say apathetically.

“You really are the real thing! I can’t believe that actually worked! That cheating slut finally gets to be humiliated like she humiliated me. What can I wish for next?” he asks gleefully.

“I already told you, you only get one wish.”

“In the movies, they give three wishes,” he says suspiciously as if I’m trying to scam him of his wishes. It’s not like I work on fucking commission.

“For the tenth time, I’m not a genie, this is not a movie, and you only get one. I granted your one wish, I’ll now be leaving,” I say in irritation. I hate that I now have a long trek ahead of me, but I am not asking this prick for a lift.

As I turn to leave, his words halt me in my tracks. “About that…” he suddenly says, “See that’s a problem. You’re the only one who knows what happened, and I can’t exactly let you decide to go help my wife get even with me,” he says darkly.

I glance back at him in astonishment. He can’t be serious. I’m starting to see why his wife cheated. This man is paranoid as fuck.

“You think I actively seek out people to grant wishes to? I assure you, that’s the last thing I do,” I say bitterly.

“I can’t take your word for that. I’m sorry, I promise this isn’t personal.”

I look at him in confusion when suddenly he lunges at me, grabbing me by the collar of my shirt and pulling me close to the cliff’s edge. I’m too stunned to have the reflexes or frame of mind to defend myself, and the moment my brain wakes up enough to tell me to fight back, it’s too late. With a firm shove, Tommaso pushes me off the cliff and I feel that horrible pulling in my gut as gravity takes effect and I plummet towards the ocean.

Pain radiates through my entire body like I’ve been struck with a million rubber bands as I crash through the surface of the water. I feel the burning sensation of water entering my lungs when everything starts to go dark as I feel my body being pulled deeper into the ocean’s depths. I would just like to reiterate; this is what I mean when I say the roses smell like shit.