Short Story: The Cup

There was once a Cup of legend. This Cup would crop up in tales from time to time, rewarding those who would drink its divine elixir with whatever their life could most use. The hot liquid would warm their body as it looked deep into their soul. Some would drink and be rewarded with riches, others with the opportunity to travel. One drinker that had travelled long and far through a desert in order to find it, only to be gifted with a refreshing second drink to help quench their deadly thirst.  

A day came where a man happened upon the Cup. The markings around the rim were the only clue he needed to know just what it was, for he had heard stories of so many of the miracles that had come from it in the past. The man looked inward, quantifying and categorising every aspect of his life.

What possible treasure could most suit his current needs? His mind filled with desire at all the possibilities that could await him at the bottom of the precious Cup.  

The man took his first sip. It was just a small one, for the contents were much hotter than he had expected. He continued to sip his way through, and as he did, he grew more accustomed to the temperature. That, or the elixir must have become cooler on its own as it became accustomed to him. With this change his sips grew into gulps, and eventually, the Cup was completely empty.

He placed the Cup back down onto the ground. Looking around in search of his reward, the man found that nothing had appeared. He was confused, was this not the magical Cup, and instead just one designed to look like it?

He bent down to inspect the Cup, and to his shock found that it had somehow been refilled. Surely that was all the proof he needed. It must have been the Cup he had heard about. Could it be a test? Must he drink it a second time to gain his reward.

The man lifted the Cup and began to drink again. He tried to gulp it down, but it burnt his mouth and throat. He had expected a cooler drink, the way it was as he finished the last. Instead, the elixir was as hot as it had been when he had first found the Cup. He became more careful, going back to smaller sips until the elixir allowed him to do more. Before long the Cup was emptied a second time.

The man refused to release the Cup from his grip as he looked around to claim what was rightfully his. He looked to every side, turned around to check behind himself, but still there was nothing. He felt the Cup grow heavier in his hand and looked down to find that the Cup had once again filled to the top.

Over and over, the man emptied the Cup but the results remaining unchanged. He would search for his prize only to find the Cup had filled itself anew. Time and again, he refused quit. So many before him had drank from the Cup to gain their most desperate need, why should he be refused what was owed to him?

The man soon lost all sense of time. He saw nothing but the goal directly in front of him. Until finally, something changed.

The man lowered the Cup from his now shaggy face as he took the final gulp that remained in its recent filling. He made the quickest of glances around but had reached the point of expecting nothing. When he looked back down into the Cup, there was no liquid. Instead, poking out of it, were three short letters all addressed to him. Each one seemed to be a job offer, each only for looking agreement for him to accept, no interview required. They were all even in his field.

He read each over, and then did it again. They made no sense; he already had a job. In fact, he loved his work, and all the people he worked with. His salary was even more than what was being offered in any of these. How could he claim any of them as a prize? If anything, he saw them as a downgrade in life.

No, he couldn’t accept them as good enough. The prize couldn’t be just anything after all the time he had invested. It had to be something worthy. He threw the letters to the ground, ignoring as they disappeared from existence.

The Cup filled with liquid as it always had before.

Things continued as if the prize was never given. He would drink from the cup, but nothing would happen. Part of him worried that only one prize could ever be gifted to any person. He couldn't have that; his felt prize wasn't a prize at all. He became angrier. He couldn’t let a Cup beat him. He needed to get he is owed.

Much more time had passed, and he looked down at the freshly emptied cup. There was a picture of a family. They were a fairly attractive family, and he found himself within it in place of a father. But it wasn't his family. His wife was the second most important thing in his entire world, with his kids being the only ones who could even be considered above her. Was the Cup offering him a new family to take their place? He was an insulted. He dumped the picture and allowed the Cup to fill again.

Prizes seemed to be coming more and more frequently after that, but they always seemed to be worse versions of things he already had. He received keys to a condo, but he had a beautiful house in the suburbs. Eventually a whole car appeared next to him, but his own had been with him since high school and he could never part with it. The longer this carried on, the more he felt he was owed, until there was nothing that could ever possibly please him. At one point he received thousands of dollars, but that felt to him like too little.

The man refused accept any prize the Cup would give. Everything he already had in his life was better than anything the Cup offered.

More time passed than he could ever realise before he did one final chug of the Cup. He was done, it couldn’t do it anymore. He threw it to the ground as hard as his old, boney, feeble arms could manage.

The cup disappeared. All that was left in the place where it landed was an open grave.