The depth of short stories and micro-fiction 2

The Curse of the Golden Arches

Beatrice had always been a bit of an oddity at the McDonald's where she worked. She was a witch, and while she kept her powers hidden from her coworkers, she couldn't help but feel like an outsider among the bustling restaurant's mundane routines. But one person made her feel like she was stuck in a never-ending nightmare: her colleague, Karen.

Karen was the type of person who always had to be right, always had to be in charge, and always had to be the centre of attention. She was the manager's pet, and she knew it, flaunting her favouritism to anyone who would listen. Beatrice, on the other hand, was just trying to get by, flipping burgers and serving fries with a forced smile plastered on her face.

But as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks turned into months, Beatrice's resentment towards Karen grew. She couldn't take the constant belittling, the snide comments, and the way Karen always seemed to find fault in everything Beatrice did. So, one fateful night, after a particularly gruelling shift, Beatrice decided to take matters into her own hands.

She snuck into the back alley, her eyes scanning the dimly lit space to make sure she was alone. With a flick of her wrist, she conjured a small vial of glowing liquid, its contents swirling with an otherworldly energy. Beatrice whispered an incantation, her voice barely audibles over the hum of the restaurant's machinery, and the liquid began to take shape.

As she spoke the words, Beatrice felt a surge of power coursing through her veins. She was casting a curse, one that would slowly destroy the thing Karen loved most in the world. Beatrice didn't know what that thing was, exactly – she didn't care – but she was certain that Karen would soon be writhing in agony, her precious possession crumbling to dust.

The curse was set in motion, and Beatrice returned to her duties, a wicked grin spreading across her face whenever she thought about Karen's impending doom. But as the weeks went by, nothing seemed to change. Karen continued to strut around the restaurant, her confidence and condescension intact. Beatrice began to wonder if her curse had been a dud, if she had somehow botched the incantation or misjudged Karen's true loves.

But then, strange things started to happen. Beatrice would find herself feeling lightheaded, her vision blurring at the edges. She would stumble over her own feet or knock over a tray of drinks. At first, she wrote it off as exhaustion, but as the occurrences grew more frequent, she realized that something was very wrong.

One day, while prepping for the lunch rush, Beatrice's hands began to shake uncontrollably. She tried to steady herself, but her fingers felt like jelly, refusing to cooperate. Panic set in as she realized she couldn't even hold a spatula, let alone flip a burger. Her coworkers stared at her in concern, but Beatrice knew she had to get out of there, fast.

She stumbled into the back alley, the same spot where she had cast the curse all those months ago. As she leaned against the wall, trying to catch her breath, she felt a searing pain in her chest. It was as if her heart was being squeezed, slowly but surely, the pressure building with each passing moment.

Beatrice knew then that she had made a terrible mistake. The curse, it seemed, had backfired. Instead of destroying Karen's beloved possession, it had begun to consume Beatrice herself. She thought back to the incantation, trying to recall the exact words, but they were lost to her, shrouded in a haze of anger and resentment.

As the pain intensified, Beatrice realized that she had to break the curse, and fast. But how? She didn't know the counter-curse, and even if she did, she wasn't sure she had the strength to perform it. The McDonald's uniform, once a symbol of her mundane routine, now felt like a prison, suffocating her with its polyester grip.

With a Herculean effort, Beatrice pushed herself away from the wall and stumbled back into the restaurant. She made her way to the manager's office, her vision blurring, and collapsed onto the chair in front of the desk.

"Please," she whispered, her voice barely audible, "I need help."

The manager, a kind-hearted woman named Mrs. Patel, looked at her with concern. "Beatrice, what's wrong? You look like you're going to pass out."

Beatrice took a deep breath, trying to gather her strength. "I... I cast a curse. On Karen. But it's affecting me instead. I don't know how to break it."

Mrs. Patel's expression changed from concern to shock. "A curse? Beatrice, you're a witch?"

Beatrice nodded, feeling a wave of shame wash over her. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt anyone. I just...I couldn't take it anymore."

Mrs. Patel leaned forward, her voice low and soothing. "We'll figure this out, Beatrice. But first, you need to tell me everything. The curse, the incantation, everything."

As Beatrice recounted the events of that fateful night, Mrs. Patel listened intently, her eyes never leaving Beatrice's face. When she finished, Mrs. Patel nodded thoughtfully.

"I think I can help you, Beatrice. But it's going to require some...unconventional methods."

Beatrice nodded, desperation clawing at her chest. "Anything. Please, just make it stop."

Together, Beatrice and Mrs. Patel set to work, gathering strange ingredients and whispering ancient incantations in the back alley. The curse, it seemed, was a stubborn one, but with each passing moment, Beatrice felt its grip loosening.

As the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over the restaurant, Beatrice finally felt the curse lift, its hold on her broken. She took a deep breath, feeling a sense of relief wash over her.

But as she turned to thank Mrs. Patel, she saw Karen standing in the doorway, a look of confusion on her face.

"Beatrice, what's going on? I saw you and Mrs. Patel doing some weird stuff in the alley..."

Beatrice smiled wryly, feeling a sense of irony wash over her. "Just a little something I had to take care of, Karen. Don't worry about it."

Karen looked uncertain, but Beatrice just shrugged. "Hey, at least I'm not flipping burgers with a curse hanging over my head, right?"

Karen's expression changed, a flicker of understanding crossing her face. "You know, Beatrice, maybe we're not so different after all."

Beatrice raised an eyebrow, surprised. "Oh? How's that?"

Karen smiled, a small, tentative smile. "We both have our secrets, our own little curses to bear. Maybe we can help each other out, instead of tearing each other down."

Beatrice felt a spark of hope ignite within her. Maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something new, something better. She smiled back at Karen, feeling a sense of peace settle over her.

"You know what, Karen? I think you might be onto something there."