My Dearest Maria
My Dearest Maria
The house was empty without her. The kitchen was robbed of laughter. Our room had stolen comfort. Nothing was the same. She was my everything. My flower, my Maria; how do you expect a man to live his life without the woman he had devoted it to? That's why I stand here, teasing fate, and wishing on my life.
The well lies on an old estate. It was once owned by a noble family who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere centuries ago. They had risen to power to run our small town for generations before the incident. By the incident I mean the death of a family by the hands of the father, by an old well that had been there longer than they. A mother watched her children's massacre before being fated to her own. After the man had finally realized what he had done he took his own life by sacrificing himself to the old well. Following the incident the manor slowly fell to ruin leaving only a vast garden of overgrown weeds and a crumbling home. But around the well is said to be a beautiful grove, safe from the decay around it. Seemingly not changed despite the years of not being tended to.
Decades later we tend not to think of the tragic events that occured on that day in October, but the stories of the well have not left our town’s history. Some say it’ll grant you any wish you desire; others say it’s nothing but bad luck. But most, and probably the most reasonable, say that I'll grant your wish, but consequences follow. My wife, Maria, did not believe in magic. She was a smart woman, rational and sensible in every way. So what I’m doing today is something that would make her call me silly and hopeful.
I step over vines and stumps while I gaze upon the mansion before me. The roof has caved in on one side and the windows are all shattered. The front door lies flat on the ground with noticeable scratches in the old dark wood. I keep walking in hopes to find a beautiful garden like the stories say, but there is nothing but overgrowth and mud all around the mansion. A sigh leaves my body as I sit myself on one of the stumps and I feel myself begin to cry into my hands. What am I doing here? I should know better than to trust old wives' tales and children's stories. I am a grown man.
When I look up again I see what appears to be a small stone well, covered by vines and branches. Maria is all I can think before jumping to uncover the stones. The well is dark. I can't see more than 7 feet down, and I can't tell if it's because of the light or the way I am looking at it. The well is roughly 4 feet in diameter and the stones stack up to just below my waist. I kneel beside the well, pull a coin from my pocket, and hold it between my palms as I bring my hands together in a prayer.
“My wife Maria, I miss her dearly. I cannot fathom the idea of living life without her for any longer. Please. I beg of you. Bring her back to me. Give us more time.”
John. I hear her. Her voice. No. That's not possible. John. I’d recognize her voice anywhere. The slight accent she inherited from her grandmother. The smooth tone of it. John! It's a cry. A scream. A call for help. My Maria. Where is she?
John. I look down the well. The soft curves of her face appear at the bottom. She reaches up to me and screams. John! Help me! Please! “Maria!” I cry and hold myself over the edge of the well as I reach my arm as far as I can. I reach and reach but her hand is still too far. I lean over the edge a bit more and continue to stretch out my hand for her. I feel the brush of her fingertips against mine and my heart flutters with the familiar warmth of my wife. She wraps her hand around mine and I can't help but cry at the joy of holding Maria's hand again.
Then she pulls. And I fall down the dark well.
The Voice
May 2024
Spring Contest Winners
Congratulations to the winners of our Spring 2024 Writing and Art Contest! Three writers and three visual artists have each been awarded $100, and their outstanding work is published in this issue of ...
To Be A Poem
If to be a sonnet is to be vain, then to be a sonnet is to be a friend. If to be a limerick is to be laughed at, then to be a limerick is to be a child. If to be a haiku is to be unnoticed, then to be...
Sunflower
I'd like to say: You cannot know, unless you live it. You cannot understand, without experience. I do not understand, nor do I know, what it is like to live in a war zone. But I have seen its impact o...
Lullaby
Carried by the songbird’s wings Through forests bright, caverns dim, Flying in the wild wind. Tears have been shed and goodbyes have been said And the light is leaving from your eyes. Dew drops on th...
My Dearest Maria
The house was empty without her. The kitchen was robbed of laughter. Our room had stolen comfort. Nothing was the same. She was my everything. My flower, my Maria; how do you expect a man to live his ...
Words
Words drift by me, leading up to the great night sky. I watch them, all spiraling from an open book. The book has a sort of magic coming from it, an essence. I walk toward the book and hold out my han...
January Loves April
January loves April, her silken white dress with its icy tint of blue sinking into April’s lime green skirt, buds and baby leaves rupturing its stitches, their hair – one long, whitish blonde tippe...
Counting to 17
When I turned 17, it was synonymous with the beginning of the end. It felt like landing in the jaws of a hungry, hungry wolf that would maul me to pieces. I am not one who fears many things, but the ...
Mourning Crow
Crow, past my window, where do you fly to on this beautiful morning? Let us brew some mid-day coffee and nightly tea. Bring me to your nest and hear the early peepers sing with your cousins. Resolutio...
We've Built the Beautiful
We've built the beautiful places through disaster and heartbreak and luck and romance. From the roots up, we've rocked the rocks, and moved the Earth. We've felt it all;through the pain and hate a...
Mauve
Mauve is the lipstick we stole from your mother, smeared sideways across your mouth and all over your Sprite bottle, a clandestine weight in your pocket as we hurried home across the dew-slick grass....
Woodland Grove
And your dark, knotted hair falls, trailing along and settling in the crevice of collarbone, ravine of spine, and depth of heart. Curling like the faintest of...
Before
Before we wake, we are huddled under blankets and dreaming. Before we wake there are others living, breathing, chirping, growing. Before we wake the ocean's waves soak its rocky beaches. Before we ...
The Bottom of a Wishing Well
A penny from a young girl with pigtails and a toothy grin, a dime from a poet in a baseball cap, and a quarter from an elderly lady on her morning stroll. Little snippets of a million people’s stories...
Compose
In the wrestling match, my knees buckled, A staccato burst of defeat, Feeling out of control, angry, a cacophony. But then, ukulele strings under my fingers, Offered a universe I commanded, Composed o...
Red Clover
I dream of him less than I used to – But our story always starts the same. I am small, and his oil-stained hands hold me like the Red Clover, So tightly that I think he’ll never let me go. And he tell...
To Wander Within Your Reach
Every day is new, All because of you. You brought me this world, And were there for every journey, Every step and every chapter, While I learned to live my life Kindly and creatively. You taught me t...
Good Years
Dad is a collector of rainbows, Pictures taken to capture and frame A small wonder performed on the world. He says it’s like saving up luck in our lives. Seven rainbows held in his hand, preciously ...
It's late again
It's later than I thought, half past 11. YouTube K-pop Reactions It's later than I thought, half past 12. Does he love me? Should I change? Why do I do this to myself? It's later than I thought, half...
Pluvia
Time seems to move slower when it rains Cars hesitate before they turn Bird wings lag as raindrops batter their feathers The world seems small and heavy Murky puddles are dumbbells on Earth's surface ...
Cardinal
I saw you today, Dressed in the prettiest red dress to ever be sewn, Wearing the cat eye mascara you always have. Your hair waved to me as you flew past. I swear I saw you wink. I remember You would...