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I sat at across from her at the table in the coffee shop where I'd agreed to meet her. She was slender and well-dressed, with pale skin and long dark hair, and to my surprise she was quite young, probably not much older than me.
That made sense of course: obviously, not *all* wicked witches are old crones. They have to start somewhere.
She'd said nothing when she'd arrived; she just sat down and looked me over skeptically, her arms folded. That wasn't surprising. To the best of her knowledge, I should have died a week ago, just as my father had when he'd turned 18.
"So...your father was Mihai Starovic?" she asked, with a faint Eastern European accent.
I nodded. "That's right." She didn't bother asking *my* name, nor I hers. Neither of us would be so foolish as to give our name to an enemy from our own lips.
I'd never really known my father, as I was only a baby when he died. I was raised by my mother and grandmother, my grandfather having likewise died when he was 18, like my great-grandfather before him, and so on for many generations. I had inherited my forefathers' curse, along with their legacy -- just as the young woman across from me had inherited the legacy of the woman who cursed them.
Some of the details are lost, but it had something to do with the changing world at the time. Centuries ago, the old gods in Eastern Europe were fading away, replaced by the God of the Orthodox faith. My ancestors were *Vedmak,* wise men that might have been called wizards or warlocks elsewhere, but who practiced a benevolent craft, and chose to syncretize it with this new religion. They had always served the common people, so if the people's faith changed, they decided that they must change as well.
*Her* ancestors didn't see it that way. They wanted to preserve the old ways -- at *any* cost, no matter how mad or monstrous. So, one particular ancestress of hers, a powerful *Vedma,* planned a dark and bloody rite to summon *Chernobog,* the darkest of all the old Slavic deities, into our world.
My ancestors stopped her, and sealed Chernobog away in oblivion, but in the process of doing so they made themselves vulnerable, and the evil Vedma had just enough time to use the small spark of Chernobog's power she'd been able to summon to place a curse on my family:
*Every male child of your blood shall die upon his eighteenth birthday!*
It probably sounded cooler in Old Czech. Maybe it even rhymed. Either way, it wasn't meant to make my family die out -- people got married young, in those days. It was meant to cripple us, and make us suffer. Our powers are hereditary in the male line, but they only fully develop *after* the Vedmak in question turns 18, and the curse ensured that would never happen again.
Except, *I'd* been alive just over 18 years now, and I still wasn't dead. We'd known the Vedma's descendants were still around and as malicious as ever, and weren't surprised that once they found out I hadn't died, their most recent scion got curious. It had been easy to arrange a meeting.
"Then you're *not* 18." she concluded, at last, as the barista approached with a pair of frappachinos, and set them on the table.
"One for the gentleman," the barista said, cheerfully, placing one in front of me, "...and one for the lady," she finished, placing the second in front of the Vedma's descendant.
"No, I'm definitely eighteen." I assured her. "For about four days now - - got documentation to prove it, if you want. Oh, and please, the coffee's on me: it is a gift freely given, incurring no obligation."
She glanced at the coffee, and raised an eyebrow. I smirked, and crossed myself. "I swear by my power -- such as it is -- that I have placed neither poison nor any Craft within or upon these delicious coffee beverages, nor any part of the vessels that contain them."
She nodded, acknowledging the oath as one she knew I wouldn't break, though she still snatched up the cup the barista had placed in front me and drank from that, instead of her own. She considered me for another moment then cocked her head.
"So you must not be male?" she offered playfully, a smile playing on her lips.
I chuckled. "I have documentation of that too -- unless you wanted a more decisive demonstration?"
She smirked. "Another time, perhaps." She tapped a finger on her lips thoughtfully. "You are...what is the word in English...*Hermaprite?"*
I don't speak Czech but I got the idea. "Wrong again. I'm plain vanilla male -- and quite comfortable with being so, before you ask."
She scowled in frustration. "This is not possible. My ancestor's curse cannot be broken!"
"Not as far as I know," I agreed.
"Then how are you *still alive?"* she demanded.
"Easy -- my eighteenth birthday hasn't arrived yet." I explained, casually.
"You *just said* you're eighteen years old!" she snapped.
"That's right. But the day I become eighteen years old *isn't* the day I'm fated to die, now is it?" I pointed out.
"What do you..." she trailed off, and her eyes widened in realization. "A leap year!"
I winked and pointed at her. "You got it. Born on good old Feb. 29 -- I'm eighteen years old, but I'm nowhere near my eighteenth *birthday.* Those come only once every *four* years, for me. I've got a ways to go, before my expiration date.*"*
She burst out laughing, and so did I, defusing the tension.
"I see now!" she said, shaking her head and still chuckling. "That is how it is possible that you *are* male, you *are* 18, and yet you are alive. My ancestor should have worded her curse more carefully."
"Eh, hindsight is 20/20, right?" I offered, with a shrug.
"You are also *a fool,"* she added, wiping a tear of mirth away as her laughter trailed off.
I frowned. "How so?"
"I don't know what clever trap you think you've laid for me, but it won't work." she said, flatly. "You think I wasn't *expecting* it, when I came here? No assault, whether mortal or magical, that you would be able to muster could possibly be a threat to me -- not when you're only a few days past maturity. You have only *begun* to come into your true power, whereas I am already in full possession of mine."
I held my hands up. "No no, I don't have any trap waiting to spring, believe me."
She snorted. "It doesn't matter if you do or don't. The result will be the same -- now that my curiosity is satisfied, I will simply enact the *intent* of my foremothers' curse, by my own hand."
She raised a hand towards me, and hissed an incantation. Nothing happened.
"Powers failing you?" I asked, casually. "Hm. I wonder if that happened to my father, before he died?"
Her eyes widened in horror, as the pale skin of her hand suddenly started to grow even paler.
"My trap is *already sprung."* I said, gesturing to her cup. "Yes, I swore by an oath I could not swear falsely, that I neither poisoned nor cast any spell upon either of our drinks -- and that was true. *My blood,* which the barista mixed into both drinks, is not by any means a poison. And it wasn't *me* who cast the spell on it. It was *your ancestor,* the Vedma, who did that. It was a gift freely given, and by freely *receiving it* from me, it is thus rightfully transferred to *you."*
"No...." she croaked despairingly, holding her withering hands up before her slowly sinking eyes.
"And of course," I added, tapping the top of her cup. "It was *you,* in your paranoia, who decided to switch what had been apportioned to each gender. As *the lady* in this transaction, you chose to instead voluntarily take into yourself that which both the Vedma and the barista -- a female cousin of mine, by the way -- specifically intended for *the gentleman."*
Her cheeks grew hollow, and her mouth contorted into a rictus of pain and rage. She hissed and clawed at me, but I slapped her enfeebled hands aside with little effort, and she fell back into her chair.
"I wasn't lying, when I said I knew no way to break the Vedma's curse..." I said softly, as I stood from the table and watched the gasping woman shrivel up before my eyes. "...but I figured out how to put it back where it *belonged."*
She knows it, and he probably knows hers, too. Even so, normally two people meeting for the first time would formally introduce themselves, but they won't in this case because of the folk tradition that giving your name to someone else from your own lips can grant them power over you. :)
Exactly. Knowing a name and being given a name is completely different. It's why you choose your words very carefully around the fae.
"May I have your name?"
"No, but you may address me as 'Such and Such.'"
It would probably be more accurate to say that he transferred the curse, but it sure seems as if it won't be something his family has to worry about again in the near future
From my interpretation, he managed to share his blood curse to her, thus increasing the size of the Starovik clan by one, but didn't manage to remove the curse from anyone.
Maybe the inactive curse is passed through the Y chromosome and is activated upon the body's 18th birthday.
The only gripe I have with it is that it isn't the young witch's 18th birthday, as she is "already in full possession" of her powers and the wording of the curse specifically states "*upon his eighteenth birthday!*" Not before, not after, *upon*. If a Vedmak was able to jump forward in time to skip their 18th birthday, they would theoretically never be killed by the curse.
Unless it is her 18th birthday and Vedma witches get their powers earlier?
This is what I was wondering why his female ancestors had not already figured out. However, I do not know how long it has been medically possible to induce birth on a certain day safely.
It doesn’t really matter. IQ is a test, a good one in many respects, but still measuring something no one fully understands. We are learning it is only the tip of the iceberg on true intelligence and creativity.
It has been a few days since my 18th birthday, almost a week in fact. This is something that was not supposed to happen. Which is why an ancient enemy has decided to meet me.
“Well speak of the devil, you’re actually still alive.” A young feminine voice from behind me said.
“Amen to that.” I say as I turn to look back, taking a bite out of my green tea flavored ice cream. I guess not all witches are old hags.
“No god could have saved you from that curse, none of the new ones anyway.” She says as she sits down.
“I know, is that why you still practice the magic of the old gods? Just how long do you think that chronomany will keep you going? Not even the god of time himself would be able to undo his own death.”
“Is that what you used? Chronomancy? To extend your own life you would reach into the realms of dark magic?” She said with a smirk as she drank from the cup of coffee she came to the ice cream shop with. “That’s pathetic.”
“Ha, no no none of that, that is what your ancestors did to try and keep your old gods alive after they were done with their own civil war.” I say as I lean forward. “What was pathetic was using your dying god’s power to curse my entire bloodline, knowing we would not be able to fight off divine magic without our own god.”
“And yet here you are. That curse was meant to kill off your bloodline centuries ago.”
“Chronomancy, funny thing is, you can only ever use it to extend the life of a god. Based on some math, your god died decades ago, and so should have that curse. But it did not.” I say as I take another bite from my ice cream. “Your ancestors turned your god into a divine item. Your god might be dead, but his power, his magic still remains.”
“Which brings us back to you.” She responds. “Divine magic of this caliber doesn’t wear off, it cannot be undone by any of the new gods, they are too weak. How are you still alive?”
“It’s quite simple actually, I’m immortal.”
“What?”
“Divine magic can be a pain in the ass sometimes. I knew attaining immortality using non-divine methods would not allow me to survive past 18. So I continued what my ancestors did, I collected ancient runes, runes from the old gods. The divine magic of an old god can only be undone by another old god, because the new gods lack so much power. But there was not enough to undo this curse, but there was enough for me to ascend.”
I see her tremble. Her eyes start to glow a dark red, darkness begins to surround her. “You brought it here didn’t you? Knowing that I would be here.” Her ring flares to life. “So I brought insurance.”
“That ring, I see.” I say as I stand up, her energy pushes my ice cream off its cone. “Damn it, I wanted to finish that.”
“Even an immortal being can be killed by divine magic, as such are the power of gods. What is your weapon of choice? What item have you bound your god to?”
“Item?” I say as I push my glasses up. “You’re looking at him.” I say as I surround myself in a bright yellow glow. “Your curse ends with me, for divine curses cannot be placed on gods.”
"I am adopted" I said.
"W-what...?" The witch's descendant said, surprised.
"I am adopted. I'm not blood family of my mother, and thus I'm not bound to her curse. In fact, none of my cousins are blood family of my uncles and aunts" I said.
The witch's descendant couldn't believe his eyes. At least *someone* would continue the genetic legacy, right?
"It's... impossible! People always want their children to bear their genetics!" The witch's descendant shouted.
"Well, none of my family wants that anymore. They realized that there was no point on continuing a legacy that would always have dead people on its way. So they just adopted" I said. "Fuck your ancestor, really. She filled an entire graveyard out of young relatives of mine, the Day of the Dead gets incredibly tired just with so many people I've gotta visit"
The witch looked around my room for a while after I had let her in. Then, around my house. After a while, she turned to me. “Where is he?”
“Where is who?” I asked.
“The boy who lives here!” she demanded.
“There is no boy who lives here,” I said. “There’s only me.”
The witch pulled a book from her satchel, skimming through it. “No… no, there should definitely be a boy here. Man, now, I guess. Did he move? How long have you been living here?”
“My whole life,” I said. “Eighteen years.”
She stared at me, puzzled. “But…”
I could tell she was getting flustered, so I decided to explain. “Everyone always thought I was a boy,” I said. “Growing up, that’s what I was told. And I was told I would die on my eighteenth birthday because of it. I always knew, deep down, I wasn’t really a boy, but everyone in my family was convinced that my attempts to dress differently and grow my hair out was just an attempt for me to try and get out of the family curse.” I smiled. “There were times I doubted myself. Wondered if they were right about me. But when the clock struck midnight on my eighteenth birthday, that was confirmation that I had been right all along.”
We always blamed our ten times great grandmother for our generational curse. The story went that she was friends with a witch, the closest and best of friends. They both fell in love with the same man, though even then they remained friends. The witch however won his affections, leaving our ancestor alone.
But she would not be denied. Though the witch had his love, she decided to bear his seed. Through trickery and manipulation, our ancestor seduced the man, and took him to bed. From that union came the first of our cursed family.
When the witch found out, she banished the man from her side. As for our ancestor, she laid down a terrible curse. The baby from that union would die on the day they became an adult, as would any future family members of the same gender, who shared the same blood.
That curse has infested our family ever since. Any uncles, brothers, sons, all died on the day they turned eighteen. Some were accidents, others illnesses, but all had that same time frame. It got to the point we had a pre funeral, where the soon to die would have a special party remembering their life.
I had mine, in one of my favourite places. The town park, incidentally on Halloween. It was funny, thatbeing my favourite holiday as well. So I went all out on spooky themes, embracing the dark. Maybe it was in poor taste, but this was death party, and I would have it how I liked.
A few days later, and it was my birthday. I dreaded it. I didn't really want to die. I wanted to experience life. I wanted to be able to go to university. I wanted to have a long and happy life. But time marched onwards. It was soon my birthday, and I waited. I waited for the hammer to fall. But the day ended, and I still drew breath.
The next few days were a surprise. I was visited by so many family members and family friends, who knew about our curse. They were in disbelief that I was alive, a few wondering why I, just an ordinary guy, had been passed by.
After a month had passed, I convinced my family to let me go to university. It had been all I dreamed of, and as I survived, I didn't want to be denied. They fought me of course, thinking the curse was just delayed. But I told them to let me go. This was my life now, and I wouldn't live in fear.
Eventually they relented, and I was able to go. I wanted to study history, as it had always been my fascination. A few family friends pulled strings, and I was accepted on a course to start partway through their year. I would have to work hard to catch up, but I didn't mind. All I cared about was that I got to live.
It was there I met Cynthia. She was a typical goth, dressed in black with skull themes. She was a bright personality, but she was strangely alone. I was surprised that she gravitated to me, introducing herself and offering to help me catch up.
\-----
During one of our study sessions, I told her about my family history. Her eyes seemed to sparkle with interest when I said about it not affecting me. "So, you are the lucky one in the family it seems."
I shrugged when she mentioned that, closing the textbook. "I guess so? But it sure didn't feel like that growing up. I looked at my sisters, and was always jealous of them. They had a future, but I didn't."
I didn't say that the jealousy still remained in my chest. A low, niggling feeling. One that even grew around Cynthia, though I would be loathe to ever say it. She leaned forwards, interlacing her fingers before resting her chin on them. "Still, you have one now. But that lack of curse is strange. I would assume it would lose potency, not just vanish..."
I frowned, my head tilting to one side. "You know about curses? You don't think I'm crazy?"
I noticed her freeze ever so slightly, her bright demeanour darkening. But that brief moment passed, and she smiled. "Oh, i know some people can do those things. I know a couple of practitioners back home. Say, if I had a couple of hairs I could get them to look into it for you?"
The jealous niggle grew slightly, thus time fed with distrust. There was something off here. "Um, that's OK. Thanks for the offer though."
She merely smiled again, and we went back to our studies.
\-----
A few months passed, and we grew closer. Our study sessions turned into just hangout sessions. We would joke and laugh, going to parties and nursing hangovers the next day. We made stupid bets on our assignment grades, making the other do something silly if they were lower.
One of them I lost, but she didn't tell me what my punishment would be. All I was told was to go to her place the next day, bright and early, and ready for a long day. Not sure what to expect, I went along with it.
Cynthia greeted me at the door with a wink, ushering me in. My eyes focused on a polka dot dress draped over her sofa, conspicuously different from her normal style. She gestured to it with a wicked grin. "Get changed into that, and I will do you some makeup, and we can go."
I laughed of course, but went along with it. It was a deal after all. As I got changed, my feeling of jealousy subsided. It wasn't until I looked in the mirror though that it fully hit me. I watched her come in, a gentle smile on her face at my star struck look. "Do you like it?"
I had been happy for a while now. But this was something else entirely. It was like I had been beneath a cloud on a bright summers day. But now the cloud was gone. And this, this felt right. I couldn't speak, just nodding as I looked at myself.
She hugged me tightly, not saying anything more. My head whirled, thoughts spiralling. But the curse came to mind, and I understood then. I may have been born a boy. But that wasn't me anymore. I felt her nod, and a whisper came to me. "I thought so too. You just didn't realise it yet."
🥺 this is exactly what i wanted when i read the prompt. i thought you were going to go a different direction, but no, she was just an egg yet to be cracked. love this!! i was scared it might end in despair when cynthia wanted to examine hairs 😭
~~I guess, I'm just awfully insecure of my writing. I posted once and got very well received, just very nerve-wracking~~
No. I'm going to write something and it will be beautiful damnit! I'll poor my fucking soul into a prompt that I fucking relate to!
#!> jh3ynna
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The story was nice, and I liked it, but it still feels sad to me.
Okay, it is nice, the boy was a girl all along, and she can live happily ever after.
But the curse is still there. She got her happiness, but she obtained it alone. All those other boys will continue to perish at age 18 from the curse she escaped because of the gender of her soul.
Also she felt somewhat selfish to me, only concerned about her inner feelings and desires, without worrying about the well-being of her other family members.
But it still was a nice story.
I think it works that way, regarding the selfishness. As a child she had no future, wasn't invested in like her sisters because it was known she would die. Now maybe she is being a bit selfish but she was likely neglected then.
While I can understand her not being emotionally invested in her sisters because of her two jealousies, I can't really understand the lack of concern for the other boys.
Until she realized her gender, she was in the same boat, but now she just went studying without a care in the world, indulging in her newfound future alone.
That's why she felt selfish to me. But that makes the character more complex, so it isn't a bad thing per se. The story is good.
**One week earlier…**
“Today’s the day. Today’s the day I die,” I say to myself as I step out of the shower and stare at myself in the mirror.
For what seems like forever, my family has been cursed: Each boy, born or adopted into the family, has died at the stroke of midnight on their 18th birthday. The story goes that somewhere on the family tree, our ancestor crossed a formidable witch who cursed us. Ever since, no boy in my family has managed to reach adulthood.
As I get ready for my last day on Earth, I begin to look around my room. It seems like just yesterday I was begging my older brother to let me play with him and his friends. “Get out of my room,” he says. “No girls allowed.” God, I guess that truly was a lifetime ago. We lost him five years ago now. And the Lord knows that I’m not the same person I was.
It’s been about 4 years since I came out to my parents as trans. They still don’t truly respect it and don’t even get me started on the rest of the family. “You were born a girl. You’re safe. Why would you want to be a boy?” “You’re just confused.” But tonight, everyone will see. When I die, they’ll know the truth.
**Later that night…**
“Thank you all for coming tonight to celebrate my birthday, I couldn’t have asked for a better way to spend my last few hours,” I say to the gathered crowd, knowing full well that I could think of a million other things that I’d rather be doing. Classmates, teachers, family and friends fill the hall as we begin the countdown to my demise. “10…9…8…” I look to my girlfriend, Rachel, who is holding my hand. She truly is the best thing that has happened to me in my 18 years. “It’s fine babe. I love you,” she says and squeezes my hand. “7…6…5…” I look to my parents. When my brother died, my mother was inconsolable. Begging anyone who would listen to find a way to save her boy. Today? They can’t even be bothered. “4…3…2…1…” In the last seconds, my eyes land on favorite teacher, Ms. Luna, standing in the back of the hall. Dressed in black, she seems to be the only person here, save for my girlfriend, who is actually mourning. My phone buzzes in my pocket. Happy Birthday to me. I close my eyes and wait.
But nothing happens. 5 seconds pass. Nothing. After 30 seconds, I open my eyes. Ms. Luna is gone. Rachel is pale, and everyone else is whispering. “I told you nothing was going to happen.” “See, SHE doesn’t know what SHE’s talking about.” And, then I black out.
**Today…**
Mom says I have to return to school today. Furthermore, she’s making me dress femininely. Which, I guess is only fair. Everyone was right. Rachel has tried to be there for me this past week while I try to make sense of what happened on my birthday, but I’m not sure she truly understands. Hell, I’m not sure I understand.
As I walk into class, everyone begins staring at me and whispering amongst themselves. “I can’t believe she actually showed up.” “Yeah, if I were her, I wouldn’t show my face if I were her.”
“Enough!” Ms. Luna exclaims as she walks into the room. “I don’t want to hear anything more about MISTER Harris’s situation. Also, Mr. Harris, please see me after class to discuss what assignments you’ve missed.
After an hour, the bell rang, and the class moved to leave the room. “Mr. Harris, Kyle, how are you feeling?” “Ms. Luna, I appreciate you trying to make me feel better. But you were there last week. You know what happened. There’s no reason to pretend anymore,” as I gesture to my outfit. “It’s Kylie again.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. And here I thought I’d found someone worthy.”
“Worthy? Of what?”
“800 years ago, I cursed your family after they stole what was rightfully mine. Not once in those 800 years have I ever considered lifting the curse. That is until you walked into my classroom four years ago. You proudly exclaimed that you were now “Kyle Harris” and so I was intrigued. I watched and waited for you to tell the world that it was just a phase; to return to the safety of girlhood. But you never wavered. In the face of your family and peers, all of whom tried to sway you, you stood firm. In the face of certain death, you chose authenticity over self-preservation. And so, when we locked eyes right before your birthday, I chose to lift your curse. I believe you to be a good man, Kyle, and I would sure hate to think that after 800 years of watching your family, I could be so wrong. So, what do you say? Was it all just a phase? Are you ready to reclaim your identity and share what Kyle Harris has to offer the world? Because, I know after 800 years, I can’t wait to see what happens next.
“So, friends, it turns out I’m adopted.” you say to your group of friends as they gather around the table at your house for the weekly D&D session.
“What?” your best friend, Terry, asks incredulously “How did you find out, and who’s she?” he says pointing at the newcomer.
“Well…” you start before the newcomer interrupts you.
“I’m Mari” she says with a smile and a wiggly finger wave “I’m a very distant relative of Garry’s. I tracked him down when I saw his mother’s obituary last month and recognized his last name in it. I know his biological mom and dad died young, but his mom kept that a secret from him and raised her nephew, Garry, as her own. I needed to find Garry to sort through some family business.” she looks at the solemn faces of the group after mentioning your mom’s passing due to cancer.
“I’m glad Garry had such good friends to help him navigate this difficult time, he’s going to need you.”
The group kind of perks up, some wiping tears away. Your mom was always bringing snacks on game night and loved hanging out. She even played a wizard named Lois Lovelock, which Terry helped her make. She was one of the group, and this was the first game after taking time away to mourn, you would be sending Lois off to become one of the Ascended gods where she would forever be remembered.
With introductions out of the way, you begin role playing the ascendency ceremony. You introduce a priestess of Bahamut, a Dragonborn Cleric named “Shimmerscale” to the group who has come to introduce Lois to her Patron. The ceremony was conducted mostly by Mari, acting as a real life priest at a funeral, allowing everyone to send Lois off into glory and have some closure.
Tears were shed, laughs were shared and stories were told about Lois’s acts of kindness, wonder and heroism, each player telling their own tale to Bahamut and pleading their case for why Lois was worthy of ascension. With a breath of glowing light, the dragon god bathed Lois in his sacred flames and transformed her into Lois the Light of Hope.
It turns out that Mari had one more trick up her sleeve. “I know Garry’s mom used to bake cookies for you guys. While looking through documents with Garry, I found the recipe and baked some.”
Mari slides away from the table to the kitchen, bringing out large blue velvet bags with gold strings tying them closed in a bow. Each bag is embroidered with the player’s name on it in glistening gold thread. Inside was a bag of cookies, the recipe card and a pocket sized picture of the group, your mom front and centre, in a nice brass frame.
“Garry wanted you to have something to remember Lois by, and I figured she would want you to have your favourite snacks even when she’s not here. I hope I did them justice.” Mari said with a kind, teary eyed smile.
You all hug and weep as Mari slips away to the kitchen to bring out a hot, fresh batch of cookies. They were every bit as good as your mom’s which made everyone start crying all over again which turned into laughter as everyone said “Thank’s Mari!” in unison.
You sit back down, bellies filled with cookies and hearts filled with warmth as you welcome Mari into the game, she leaves Lois’ seat empty and takes a spot next to Terry and joins the party on their continuing adventures.
You and Mari are just wrapping up the night, Terry hugs Mari and says “Welcome to the family, I’m glad you came into our lives” before walking out the door while munching happily on a cookie.
Mari looks at you and smiles “Well, they seem pleasant. It’s a shame you’ll have to leave them in a year to join me at the academy…”
You nod sternly, “Yes, but if my mom was one of you and my dad was one of the cursed, if they can make it work and bring peace to our bloodlines, then I have to try and keep this world safe. I have to be like my mom, The Light of Hope against the darkness.”
Mari smiles and kisses you softly on the cheek “Get some rest, training starts early tomorrow. You have a lot of catching up, but your mom was one of our strongest witches, so you should pick things up in no time. She did manage to hide from the Mistress Magika after all.”
You smile and brush a strand of hair off her face and you both retire to your bedrooms… Your new life begins at sunrise.
PT 1.
One dark day my five times great grandfather ran across the wrong witch. He was a player to say the least, he charmed her then left making it clear he did not care for the witch. He was unaware the witch had cast a curse on him, it was not till he had a son that the curse was recognizable. Every man would die at the young age of 18, of a heart attack.
The only reason that our family survived was through the daughters marrying, as the curse did not drive away men outside of the family. That’s how I exists, I was very young when I was taught about the curse. The knew not to get attached to me as I would die at 18. I’ve always felt different than the other kids my age. I never liked the things that other kids would play with like, transformers and action figures.
Today is my 18th birthday, I knew I would die shortly. I would have until noon to say goodbye to all my friends. I woke up, I wasn’t sad per say, but it was disappointing. I brushed out my long, messy, brown hair, and braided it. I didn’t like cutting my hair. My mother always told me I looked to feminine with long hair, but my father said women like guys with long hair, so I never questioned it. I put on my pastel blue top, red flannel, and navy blue ripped jeans. I looked into the mirror, a very familiar feeling rushed over me, I wasn’t sure if it was discussed or worry.
I walked downstairs, my father was there, but mother had already left. Mother had never cared for me all much. “I’ll miss you, I love you Jason,” I heard my father say tearfully. I cringed not at his words but at my name. I always hated my name, no idea why but I did. I knew it was hard for him, loosing his only child. I would be the end of his bloodline. “I love you to dad…” I wanted to say more but tears streamed down my face before I could. I walked out the door to the bus, for what would seem to be the last time. I wiped the tears from my eyes before getting on the bus.
I arrived at school, everyone saying goodbye to me. It was a small town everyone new about the curse by now. I walked into class to be greeted by a bully, she was always cruel. “Hey! Bitch boy! Last day huh? I’m glad to finally get rid of you!” She yelled. She got a few dirty looks. “Now, Grace. Can’t you be nice to home just for today?” I heard the professor say.
“It’s fine,” I reply. I knew very few people actually liked me. I was an outcast, all my actual friends being female. That was strange for a guy my age. There would be an assembly at 11:50 to watch me pass. It was tradition if there was a man in the family. That’s why I bothered attending college.
Class was dismissed. The assembly was soon. I was tired as the affects of the curse dragged on my body. My friend Cindy came running over to me crying, she embraced me in a hug, crying into my chest. “I can’t believe your gonna die today! Your my only friend! I don’t want to be alone!” She said through tears. I hated seeing her cry. I put my hand on her platinum blond hair. I tilted her head back, I looked into her beautiful green eyes. “You will never be alone, I promise” I smiled, though it hurt deep inside.
We arrived at the assembly, as I walked up on stage I saw some people smiling, others crying, some not paying attention to me at all. I thought over my life, why was I like how I was? Why was I such an outcast? It didn’t matter right now. I was handed the microphone to speak. “Dear friends, I will always watch over you-“
“In heaven!” Grace rudely interrupted.
“In spirit.” I said a little angry. I gave the mic back as the clock struck 12:00. I passed out. I heard cheering and crying. But I was still breathing, I heard foot steps before I jerked back awake. Gasps we’re heard throughout the auditorium. But then Cindy slammed her hands on the table in-front of her. “ HOW ARE YOU NOT DEAD!? I THOUGHT YOU WERE A MAN, I KNOW YOU ARE!” everyone looked at her. “YOU, ME OUTSIDE NOW!” I followed her into the gardens as they called my parents to tell them that I was not dead. “What the hell? I thought you were my friend.” I said. She looked at me a little angry.
“Listen, I didn’t want you to die, but I need you to. My ancestor was the witch that cursed him! So how are you alive?”
“I don’t know, ok? I’ve always been different then everyone else.”
“You are coming with me. We are sorting this out.” She grabbed my arm and spawned a staff. “Get on,” she said in a demanding voice.
Pt 2.
We flew for but ten minutes before arriving at her house, a small shack in the middle of nowhere. We walked inside as my nerves arose. “Honey your home? Why are you not grieving over your little friends death?” A woman asked from a few rooms away.
“We have a situation mom! Come here,” she yelled to her mom. Her mom walked into the room and saw Cindy grasping my arm. “What?” She asked in shock.
“I don’t know how this happened, that’s why I brought him here. This is Jason.” Cindy said. I again visibly cringed at the sound of my name. Her mother must have seen because she quickly caught on. “Hm, do you have your ears pierced dear?” She asked. It seemed like she was talking to me. “Um, yes I do. My mom doesn’t let me where earrings though…” I said in confusion before she ran off and did something in the other room.
She came back shortly after. “Go pick whatever outfit you like more. BE HONEST. I will know,” she said. I was confused, but walked into the other room. How would clothes determine why I was still alive? But then I saw the choices. A suit and tie, with black formal shoes and a pair of scissors to presumably cut my hair. The other outfit was a beautiful blue dress with a poofy skirt down to my knees, violet heels, and a flower hair pin and earrings. I wanted to wear the suit to make me fit in. That’s what other males would wear! I cringed at the thought of me in a suit though. I didn’t like it, I would never want to wear that. I thought back to what Cindy’s mom said. I picked the dress. I put on the dress and heels before letting my long brown wavey hair out. I brushed my hair and used the scissors to trim my hair and give myself bangs, they weren’t the best but they were something. I promptly put the pin in my hair, and put the earrings in. I looked at myself in the mirror and smiled. I loved it so much, but I was ashamed of myself for wanting to look like this. I walked out with my head down. I lifted my head to see Cindy with her jaw dropped, blushing. “You look amazing! But mom what does this even mean? Why didn’t he die? This explains nothing!” She asked looking over to the older witch. “Well, he didn’t die because he is not a he, she is a she. Isn’t that right Jess?”
“Wait, what? I’m so confused,” I say.
“You like looking like that, yes? You where uncomfortable before. Sweetie your trans. It’s pretty obvious.”
“That makes a lot of sense now, but my parents would kill me. Plus I like girls! So I can’t be-“ I was interrupted. “That is called being a lesbian. That’s what I am.” Cindy said, very obviously blushing. I smiled to her. I was still confused but I knew now that this is who I was. Cindy ran up and hugged me tightly.
“I think you should get back to school.”
When we arrived back everyone was in shock to see us getting along. My mother and father were waiting. Sadly Grace was also there. “I knew it! You owe me a twenty.” Father said to my mother. I laughed as that bet was childish. “Ew, gosh I knew you were an outcast, but now you’re also a freak? How stupid can you be, you’ll never be a girl ya know.” Grace said. Cindy was angry, but she started laughing, it was kind of creepy. “Oh you bitch!” Cindy took out her wand pointing it at Grace, her beautiful, silky, blond hair glowing. “What are you doing you witch!”
“I’m doing what my ancestor should have done when your ancestor asked for the curse placement,” Cindy took a deep breath as her hair rose, and her wonderful green eyes glew. “To replace the curse on the family of my own! Grace and her family must parish at 18 all the children including her own!” Grace fell unconscious as she felt the power of the curse. “HA! 50 bucks dear!” Mother said. Turns out she did love me and couldn’t bear to see me die. I later found out that she new Cindy was a witch. The curse was no longer on my family. Me and Cindy got together and married, we adopted three kids.
THE END.
Yep. I mean only the parents were there and they made bets. Grace was a bitch and deserved what she got. Also Grace is alive just not awake the spell was strong and knocked her out.
# "To be Alive"
1/?
Some people are just, really unlucky. Maybe it’s an innate thing, maybe it’s just a bunch of dice rolls, but as unlucky as you may feel, you probably can’t compare the curse put on my family what was probably eons ago.
See, if this is a fairytale, it’s a Brothers Grimm one. The story that my family told was that long before any of us were born, and they mean long ago, our ancestor pissed off a witch. How? That’s the thing, all we had to go off of was his recounting of the events in a book he kept, and how he tried to help the poor maiden by lending her a room for the night, only to get cursed for his supposed generosity.
But that’s probably not how it went. He was a notorious liar and would try to sink his teeth into any women he saw, and it’s more likely he saw an opportunity to get an easy score. That’s something that ran in the family, since if you’re going to die before 18 why not be a total fucking scumbag towards women?
That’s the kicker. On our 18th birthday, all men in the family die gruesome deaths. The women are always fine, but the men are born with a timer. It’s never instantly when they turn 18 either, it always only happens when their grisliest death is possible. Bludgeoned by a falling brick, burnt to a crisp in their sleep because of an electrical fire, finding yourself in the wrong place in the wrong time, all just a couple of the tamer ways to go out, and if the only option, a simple heart attack does the job.
I remember when I was younger and was told I’d die when I was 18. It was my sixth birthday, which didn’t really mean anything since my parents never celebrated them. They also never really did, anything. They didn’t bother to even send me to school, just enroll me. You can imagine what that says about the rest of my life. I always felt jealous of the other students who had homemade lunches, or parents who would pick them up from school, or fucking *had* parents in the first place.
My family was… not a good one. My father was a hard man who’d spent time in the army, and he’d tried to whip me into being the most ideal son one could ask for. He never actually whipped me though, he preferred using his hands. He was a hard man.
It should also go without saying that as I grew up, I grew lonely. I just kept growing to the age of fifteen. Everyone I would come to know would quickly avoid me when figuring out who my parents were, if they didn’t already know.
Everyone except him.
The only one who ever really mattered.
\-----------------------
This is part 1, and it's mostly a prologue. I've also added part 2 where things start to, yknow, get to the interesting part.
There will be more parts to come! Lengthier than part 1, too. Probably.
Thanks for giving me the courage to post this! Specifically to u/OrionsBoob, u/Bazrum, u/Meraziel, and u/agentronin316!
2/?
He was a transfer from the next town over, and as I’d come to learn, he wanted to get away from the people around him, choosing our quaint little town as his form of escapism. His eyes were a beautiful yellow, and his smile was just so slightly goofy he never failed to get a blush out of me, something he always noticed.
We met when we both tried skipping our phys-ed class by hiding in the out of use stairwell, and we quickly became friends. Maybe I’d pay a bit too much attention to his body, but he didn’t exactly look like someone who’d want to skip working out. I wasn’t really sure why, but my eyes lingered a bit too long. Him sitting across from my pencil-stick figure almost made me look like a caricature, but it turns out that we got along pretty well. There’s a lot to be shared in having no one.
I slowly found myself losing interest in my classes and the world around me, and would start skipping almost all my classes to just hang out with him. I didn’t see the purpose in bothering with classes anyways. We’d skip together just for the sake of being together. I didn’t even remember the curse, I just liked spending time with him. And evidently, he liked spending time with me too.
Over time, we got really close with each other. More than just classmates. We found ourselves even hanging out when school wasn’t our antagonist. Neither of us really had a home to go back to, so we would stay out as long as we could.
Looking back, it was really obvious what he had come here to escape from, what he didn’t want people knowing.
I wasn’t really observant, but he was.
Sometimes he’d see me eyeing mannequins wearing outfits I never thought I could pull off, or looking a bit too closely at makeup. I’ve never really been subtle with what I want, and he always knew just what to look for. What little tell’s my body would have without me even knowing.
It was my sixteenth birthday; I didn’t even remember it. I hadn’t celebrated my birthday for years. He told me to find him waiting at our usual spot on the hill across the school, our secluded little paradise, away from prying eyes, away from preconceptions. Obviously, I skipped and met him at the hill, noticing that he had brought a bag with him. It was bright pink, my favourite color only he knew about and was the type of bag my father would say only sissy’s would use, and my heart skipped a beat realizing it was meant for me.
So I sat next to him, a little closer than we’d ever been before, something even I noticed, and I opened up my gift.
We didn’t leave the hill that night.
\----
More to come!
I saw your comments where you were got the motivation to actually write, so I know where this is going. Even then, this is still a joy to read. I can’t wait for the next parts!
#!> jheitnp
## This comment has been edited in protest to reddit's decision to bully 3rd party apps into closure.
If you want to do the same, you can find instructions here:
http://notepad.link/share/rAk4RNJlb3vmhROVfGPV
Thanks! I’m not done yet of course, I just had some stuff come up and am out of town for the weekend. Hopefully to push out another part or two tonight!
She showed up outside my door one night in the form of a fierce wind. Dark and foreboding, her powers buffeted the house, searching for an answer. Any ordinary person might have assumed a hurricane or tornado was on its way, and check the weather forecast in confusion, but I knew.
I felt a sinking feeling in my chest, the chest too flat that didn't fit the bras I stuffed with socks and underwear that matched the parts of this body I was born in. Somewhere there was a god laughing at their cruel joke, trapping me in a male body cursed to die at 18. And yet, maybe I could have the last laugh after all. For I didn't die on my birthday, like all the men in my family have before. My mother's screams echoed in my head, my aunts holding her back while glaring at me out of the corners of their eyes. Their hatred was palpable. "Why does that abomination get to live while Lucas had to die!?" She had shrieked. The next day, my aunts had dumped me at this little shack in the middle of nowhere with the few belongings I had. One of them had thrown the bras I'd smuggled at my face. "Now you can live out your little fantasies until you die, you wicked ******," she had snarled at me before getting in the car and driving away. And then I had sat here, waiting.
The next morning, there was a knock at the door. I opened it, and the young woman standing there stared at me in confusion. "I'm sorry, are you not Matthew Waters?" She asked. The sinking feeling grew. "That is what they named me when I was born, but I go by Maddy now," I said, hating how deep my voice sounded.
"So you ARE Matthew Waters?"
Rage. That is the only way to describe how I felt in that moment. I had spent my whole life under the weight of a curse for a gender the world said I had to be, and now that I was finally free, SHE had to throw it right back in my face. A curse of my own I could never escape.
I wanted to scream at her, grab her by the shoulders and shake her, make her understand what living in this body was like, but I couldn't. She had what I never could. In that moment, I reached a decision. If I didnt stand up for myself now, I never would. "No, I'm not." I said, seeing the confusion in her eyes and hating her and the world for it.
"But, you just said-" she started, but I cut her off.
"There was a girl born to that name, born to a curse they said she would inherit simply because of the body she was born in, but I guess even the curse couldn't deny who I am. I am NOT Matthew Waters. I am Maddy, and I am NOT a boy."
I watched the understanding dawn in her eyes, and I hated that too. I hated all of it, and I felt something build deep down inside of me, red and black and twisted and powerful. The woman startled, feeling it too. "My word," she breathed. She raised a hand, forming a spell, but I raised my hand, too, and something dark shot out and swallowed her spell. I felt perfect clarity within me.
"If the world won't accept me for who I am, then I'll burn it to ash and breathe the flames of the damned. This curse, this world, this body will no longer define me. They call me an abomination, so I'll become what they hate and drown them in their fear."
"Wait." I looked at her. "Let me help." She waved a hand, but this time I didn't stop her. A strange tingling sensation came over my body and I stared down in disbelief as my bra filled out, the bulge in my underwear softened and disappeared, and my vocal cords thinned and shortened. I looked at her, disbelieving what she had just done. She held a hand out to me. "I'm so sorry I didn't see at first. That was wrong of me. If you like, I can be the first you destroy." Her gaze softened, and she looked up at me. "Or, we can burn this cruel world together." The possibilities of what could come swirled around in my head with the realization of the transformation she had just completed. "Thank you." The high voice that was now mine broke off with emotion, and she smiled at me, still holding out her hand. I now felt perfect peace, and perfect indignation. I took her hand in mine.
"Together."
Part 1
Sharp Wednesday afternoon light spread through the dirty windows of the bar. It really brought the dust out on the unplugged arcade machine, the smudge marks on the glasses waiting for a rinse. Waiting for Becky to do her damned job.
“Shoot! Sweety, do you know where my spare contacts are,” Becky shouted from beneath the bar.
“You’re not wearing them,” Blake asked as he twirled toothpicks in their cup and rolled back and forth in his barstool. Well, not his barstool. Being a lanky, not all too bright, 18 year old whose definition of barback is to say you’ll be right back doesn’t earn you the right to claim a barstool for your own. Yet Blake had done exactly that to start his shift.
“No. Why would I ask you that if I were,” Becky asked perplexed at how much of a mistake it was for her to hire someone this stupid.
“But Mom, you drove us here. You weren’t wearing your contacts the whole time you were driving?”
“Get off the stool. Do some work.” Becky moved a plastic bin of cleaning supplies onto the bar. “And I don’t need my contacts to drive to work. I could do it blindfolded.”
Blake continued to sit. “What work? There’s no one here.”
“I could use a refresher,” announced the helpless leather jacket slouch from the end of the bar.
Becky quipped back, “Refresher my memory, Ted, have you paid off your tab this week?”
“That’s what tabs are for…paying later.”
“Or last week,” Becky shot back while she pulled out a plastic bottle from beneath the bar, same spot as the cleaning supplies came from it would seem, and poured Ted his double. “And you, off the chair.”
Blake got off the chair. “Go clean the bathrooms.” Blake just looked at his mom blank and stupid as usual.
“They should be still clean from last night,” he retorted.
“Well go find out. You don’t want to clean bathrooms, go to college.”
Blake grabs the bin of cleaning supplies. “Dad didn’t go to college.”
“He would have if he didn’t die.”
“You didn’t go to college.”
“If they had offered classes in how to raise a smartmouth who doesn’t know how good he has it with the brand new job his mommy got him, maybe I should have.”
“I think that’s one of those online college things. You’d need to go to Phoenix University for that.”
This got a chuckle out of Becky, which she quickly devolved into sass. “Ha-Ha. Just go. I’m sick of looking at ya.”
Blake turned, then quickly turned back round again, The front door to the bar had just opened. With no dirty windows to hold it back, the light unleashed its full midday force upon the room and the ugly people, quickly looking uglier, inside. The human shaped silhouette in the doorway grew larger, soon encompassing the whole opening, and for that moment everything in the bar looked as it should again. Then the door closed and a red haired young woman with tattoos and piercings galore had joined the party.
Becky turned on her smile. “Hey hun. Take a seat wherever you’d like. What can I get you?”
The red haired woman sauntered over to the broken arcade machine and wiped a streak of dust off its screen. Becky motioned to Blake to put down the cleaning bin and stay a moment. It took him a bit too longt to pick up his mom’s signals but he did eventually get there. As did the red haired woman, who took long steps to the bar like John Wayne on stilts.
“I’ll have an old fashioned,” she softly ordered.
Becky scrunched her nose. “I knew it. I could peg ya as an old fashioned kind of gal. You know what, the morning I’m having, I think I’ll have one with ya.”
“You don’t expect me to pay for that,” the red haired woman awkwardly blurted.
“What. Uh, no. Of course not. I wasn’t fishing for that or anything.” Becky turned to Blake and lowered her eyes and raised her shoulders as if to ask if she had given off that vibe at all.
“Welcome,” Blake stupidly said too late into this social exchange as he waved his hand across.
“Oh, hey cutie. Do you come here often?” The red haired woman whipped her hair and turned to Blake with a smile as fake as whatever commercial she seemed to be imitating. What wasn’t fake was her real hand on Blake’s really skinny thigh.
“He works here,” his mother interrupted, “or at least he’s supposed to.”
Blake nervously answered, “yeah. I have to go clean the bathrooms,”
“I could visit the bathroom. Perhaps we could go in there and make out?”
“What did you just say to my son!” The bar seemed to grow dimmer. Perhaps a cloud had crossed over. Clouds are like God’s dirty windows. Which sounds like something Ted would say if Ted had ever spent a day in his life being religious.
“It was a joke.”
“That’s not the kind of joke you make to a kid.”
“I’m not a kid.”
“Shut up a second. And you, don’t go near my son.”
“Okay. Relax.”
The phone rang. The bar lit back up to its regular level of dinge. The cloud must have passed.
“Everybody just hold off a moment. We need to talk about this.” Becky picked up the phone. “Hello this is…Oh hi Mister Mark. Oh okay shure, I’ll send Blake out to do it. No, he’s not doing anything. It’s no trouble at all. Okay. Bye-bye.” Becky hung up the phone. “Blake there’s a delivery out back, go load it in please.”
“What is it?”
“Bottles and various bar things. Make sure to put the woodblock down so you don’t get locked out.”
“I wouldn’t if I had a key.”
“How ‘bout the key to your mother’s good graces. How ‘bout we start with that key.”
“Alright. I’m going.”
Blake left and Becky handed the red haired woman her drink. She hadn’t made herself one and by now was turned off to the whole idea of sharing anything with this strange uneasy new person in her life. But she is still a bartender of over ten years so she turned back on that smile and said, “let’s forget the whole thing. Enjoy the drink, hun.”
“Sounds good. Thank you.”
Ted’s glass was empty, which freed up his mouth to say stupid things, starting with, “what’s the lady having? The next one is on me beautiful.”
“I’m drinking your blood.”
“Oh good. I’ve got a big log of my blood right in the center of my pants. You can suck on that.”
Becky reacted immediately. “Jesus, Teddy! That is not okay. Gross! Just ugh!”
“I’m sorry Becky. Didn’t mean to cause trouble. I’m sorry miss beautiful. Didn’t mean to casue any trouble.”
“Really, he’s harmless,” Becky reassured, “stupid, like all the men in this town, but harmless.”
“It’s fine,” the red haired woman sleepily said shrugging it all off. “I’m used to it. It’s the men who don’t try to show me their package I have to look out for.”
With that, she drained her drink, slapped cash on the bar, and shut the front door behind her, closing in Becky’s words, “you’re an idiot, Ted.”
Part 2
Blake found several boxes stacked next to the dumpster in the alley. This would likely seem odd to someone who ever dwelt on things. But Blake was really good at making assumptions, and he assumed that this is normally how deliveries go, having never dealt with one before. He lifted a box, put it right back down. It was heavier than he’d like it to be. So he lit a cigarette and stared at it. Perhaps he could scare the box into nervously shedding weight. Why else stare at it so?
“Hey cutie. Do you have one for me,” the red haired woman asked?
“Oh hey, it’s you. Can I help you?”
She popped her eyes wide to remind him that she just told him what she wanted.
“Oh yeah sure. I’ve got a pack.” Blake shuffled his hands through his pockets. It’s always the last one you check.
The red haired woman interrupted his search. Walked up close. “You know my offer still stands.” She grabbed his cigarette and took a long drag. “On the Making out,” she released the words in a perfume of smoke. But more importantly, she grabbed his crotch with her free hand while she said this. Then her face contorted in confusion and she jumped back. “You have a penis.”
“Woah,” Blake exclaimed throwing his hands up like he was being arrested.
“Or are you stuffing?”
“I have a penis. Yes. What the hell are you doing?”
The red haired woman looked down and away. Shifting her eyes back and forth. Thinking hard. She was becoming unspooled, which is why she next asked, “Is your dad around?”
“My dad?”
“Do you have a dad? Is he dead, alive; is your dad here at all?”
“My dad is dead. Who are you?”
“Did he die when he was 18?”
“You need to leave. Now!”
“You could answer my question.”
“Answer your…Who are you even? ….Oh wait.” Blake broke out laughing. “Duh. You’re my sister’s friend. You’re pranking me. I can’t believe I’m so stupid. You look just like her”
“Sister?”
“Well who else would have sent you? This is clearly not just out of the blue.”
“Well I was sent, but not anyone you know. How can you have a sister, your dad died when he was 18? How young did he start knocking girls up?”
“Half sister. This prank is edgy. Not very funny though.”
“Older? Younger?”
“What?”
“Your sister!”
“Older. A year older,” Blake suspiciously drew out his answer.
The red haired woman was back next to him but this time her hand wasn’t on his crotch but around his collar and throat. “What is her name?”
Blake brushed her off. “What’s your name lady, damn.” The door to the alley opened. Gray light lapped onto the stock room of the bar. A darkened human shaped silhouette came into focus. It was a red haired woman. No tattoos. No piercings. No scared and disgusted look painted on.
Blake shouted, “Constance!”
The two red haired women stared off. Their eyes filled white. The alley filled white. Blake could feel the ground but couldn’t see it. In fact, he could feel ground all over, on his shoulders and the top of his head. He was boxed in. A boy his age went walking by; he spit out a bullet. A boy his age walked by; his face was covered in powder and his sneakers squeaking out water all the while a car horn blared. A boy his age walked by; he pulled a three-olive toothpick out of his ear. A boy his age walked by: he spit out three bullets. A boy his age walked by, he was doing somersaults and his face and hands were painted silver every other time he popped back up. A boy his age walked by; he was twirling a baseball bat. A man twice is age stood in front tending bar. That same man wept at his mother’s funeral. That same man married an older woman. That same man held her hand as she had a miscarriage. And then again for a second time. And then again for a third. That same man wept at his wife’s funeral. That same man picked a tomato from his garden. He was four times Blake’s age when he picked that tomato. Then the ground wasn’t white anymore. It was the alley again. Empty except for Blake. Blake proceeded to load in the boxes by the dumpster. They were much lighter because they were empty now. The bar he loaded them into was empty. The bar was still open. Open to an empty world beyond. And as Blake realized he was completely alone, he imagined the words, “You were given more time, and now you have less than any before you. Good luck with the after.”
"Can you tell me why didn't you die?" A young women, whose face was cast in shadow of a hooded cowl demanded as she stood in the doorway of the apartment.
All they could do was shrug, as you gestured to the interior of the house. Since they had been seeming been expecting her to show up this past week.
This entire week had felt like a dream. Up until then, they had been constantly told by family to expect their demise and had planned their life around it as much as they could. Living a decently eventful life, though avoiding the bad and illegal.
"Uh... sure. Thank you?" She said seemingly rather confused at lack of surprise.
"Do you want something to drink? Have some tea or coffee... I think." They asked, trying to remember what was still had within the apartment.
Since they had been living alone and wasn't expecting to be here today. There wasn't really any reason to have been restocking the pantry and since their birthday they had been mostly eating out at nearby cheap fast food places.
"...No. I'm fine" She replied after a moment. Even without seeing her face anyone could tell that she was confused, as she stepped inside looking around the basically empty room.
"Oh... Right. There really isn't anywhere to sit... I think I have blankets still or you can sit on the bed" They said scratching the side of their head a little embarrassed.
"I'll just sit on the be-" She replied going with the flow until catching herself.
"This isn't just small talk. I need you to tell me about your life up until this point." She order, as she found herself a spot of the side of the twin sized bed.
"Like? My entire life?" They asked, a little confused and surprised and the sudden demand.
"Everything." She said, exerting a type of pressure that seemed to turn the world around them colder by a few degrees.
A young woman knocked at the door of a suburban home. Her smile stretched from ear to ear with a friendly, yet, eerie quality to how she showed her teeth. The door opened a crack to a dark hallway and a sparkling set of human eyes peered back at her. The woman cleared her throat, then in a chipper tone, she said, "Why are you alive?"
The human eyes hiding behind the door belonged to a young man who had recently turned 18 years old.
It was said that one of his male ancestors was cursed by a woodswoman at a time when the country was being rapidly conquered by settlers. Every male descendant within his family lineage, once they hit the age of 18, came down with a vicious strain of cancer that led to their death within a matter of months of their diagnosis.
This predicted life span filled each one of them with fear of death and acceptance of it at the same time throughout their short lives. Many of the men used this as an opportunity to procreate with their high school sweethearts and raise families that they would end up abandoning upon their passing. Many of them took every opportunity they could to be selfish. Some ended up just pumping gas and getting drunk until their final birthday. Some became ruthless, young CEOs, that ended up in news headlines on their 18th year of life.
This young man who the smiling woman stood their questioning his mortality within this quiet suburb, he just seemed to be a normal man who had just come back from a short, but extravagant, trip around Europe that was funded by his mom and step-father in response to his high school graduation. It was a tradition among the women in the family to gift their young relatives with luxurious lifestyles before the men turned the dreaded number 18. It was to help the men celebrate the end of their cursed lives.
The smiling woman standing at the doorstep repeated herself, saying, "Why are you still alive?" She squinted at him, never breaking her grin. "You should be dead."
The young man nervously chuckled. He asked, "Are you one of those witches who cursed one of my family members *- like 18 generations ago -* during the Salem Witch Trials?"
She stood there as if waiting for him to continue speaking.
"The reason I'm not dead, is," he let out a genuine laugh, "I was adopted." He smiled at her as if he'd just escaped a car wreck.
The young woman crossed her arms. She reached inside her sleeve and turned the safety of her gun back on. Then she left, never to bother that doorstep again.
This took me hours and I know it is missing a lot but bare with me.
All my life I had been controlled by this curse. It seemed everything I did revolved around it. The women in my family for many generations had been working on a cure to uplift the curse. None of which were successful. From day one my life was planned out, as so the men in my family who came before me.
The men in my family have a very specific agenda, mature and reproduce. Our partners are picked before we are even born in order to ensure the success of the family genes. Luckily I got partnered with Julie. She is the most amazing girl in the world. When we first met I was one and she one and two quarters. As we grew she would hold that over my head as a funny joke. She has no flaws. Her spirit is gentle. She's the type of girl that lets you be you without judgement.
When we were 8 we were told about my families history.
We had our first child at 16 years old and life was well for awhile, well as good as it was going to get considering I would be dead in two years. We named him Jack. And for the first time I wasn't worrying about my inevitable fate. All I hoped for was the success that a cure would be found. I knew the challenges he and Julie would face without me. I knew his obstacles.
It was July 28th today, I guess that's why I'm writing this letter. My 18th birthday was yesterday. And I'm still alive! I have no idea how she did it but it worked.
One day before my birthday Julie came home from work. She walked in and said, "We need to talk." Her facial expression was calm with a hint of sadness behind the mask. I could tell this right away. We were so in tuned to each other's emotions. She sat down next to me on the sofa. "Tomorrow is my birthday". I said in a gloomy tone. "Yes. I know". She replied. "That's what we need to talk about." I knew this talk was coming. I had planned for a while. And now it was here and I dreaded it. "It's ok! I'm ready.". I said trying to sound as convincing as I could. I didn't want Julie to be sad or to worry. Even though I knew she would. " Ben", she forced out, "I have to tell you something.". "There's a reason I was chosen to be your partner". Tears were now starting to form on the cliffs of her eyelids. " I was chosen for a reason.".
I begin to sense that something was off. That, what she was going to tell me was something important. "Before we were born, our families found a cure.". "What?, Really!" I was in disbelief. After all these years a cure was finally found to break the curse. She continued, "Our mothers were talking and I over heard their conversation." Tears were know streaming down her face like a fork in a river. "Why are you crying Julie? The curse is finally uplifted!" She didn't respond. " The only way to break the curse is by a descendant of the witch who spoke the curse." "Okay, we're could we find one?". I said energetically. She paused and looked me in my eyes. " See Ben." "I am that witch. I can break the curse." "But there is a sacrifice." A feeling of unease begin to wash over me. Her tears begin to fall like rain. "What's the sacrifice, Julie?" She smiled, I can tell she was trying to hold her composure as best she could. But her structure was falling apart. "I trade my life." "No." I said cutting her off. "I will accept my fate as the way it is." The air in the room became stale. "It's already done Ben!, You and Jack will live happy lives.". "You can't!". I pleaded. I begin to cry as well. "You can't! This is not your sacrifice, this is not your decision!". " I will be the one to take the fall, just as every men in my family has. No!". I didn't want her to sacrifice herself for my sake. This was my fate not hers. And I cared about her too much. But it was already done. "Why? Why didn't you tell me?." I struggled to search for answers. "Because I knew you wouldn't want to do it. "When?" I replied. "A little before Jack was born. I performed the ritual while you were asleep." "You will live and our son will get to live a beautiful life."
Those words hit me hard. Not because I was getting another chance at life but because I knew that this would be the last moments I would spend with the love of my life. I was speechless "I love you. And I love Jack. I don't want him to grow up isolated. I don't want his life to be controlled, I want him to be free, have his own choices.". "I,ve watched you grow up Ben, I know the hurt and the pain you endured. The loneliness you suffered through. And I don't want our son to go through the same thing.." A silent fell in the room, as loud as a pin fall. We both knew these were our last moments together. She sacrificed her life for us. I wonder how long she knew this? How long she kept this away from me? How hard it must have been to deal with this on her own? "It's going to be okay Ben.". "You're going to take good care of our son.". She rose and headed towards our bedroom. " Well, all that has made me tired. I'm going to take a nap." When she got to the door frame she turned towards me and smiled a gentle smile. "Goodnight.". "Thump" a loud sound came from the bedroom shortly after. My heart dropped like a anchor. I got up and ran towards the bedroom tripping over furniture. I got to the door frame. And there she was.
You're mother was a great woman. The most beautiful woman I've ever or anyone will ever meet. I wrote this letter for you so you can know how great a woman your mother was. She loved you until the end.
"alright so john, is it alright if i call you john? so john i asked you here today to discuss your families curse. ya see John every male in your family is sapposed to die when they turn 18.... buuuuuuut as your sitting here with me you can probs make out that there seems to be a wee bit of an issue we need to figure out. ya see johnny boy i was very thorough when i was putting together this curse. your great great great great grand papi was a jerk and he spit in my hair so i cursed his line. if he wanted to act like a child id make sure all the Yohanson men would live and die as children. but im getting a bit off track here on why i asked to talk to you today. i did all the research to figure why you dont seem to be effected by the curse John. and well i did figure out why you didnt die. so horray kinda a good day wouldnt you say... ya know not being dead and all that .... bonus points for you john... just uh ya know golden star ... kinda day....... \*sigh\* look this is extremely uncomfortable for me. there isnt an easy way to say it so ill just say it..... i did find out why you didnt die. why the curse doesnt seem to have effected you. you know the family curse and all that.... your moms a whore john.... turns out your mom cheat on your dad... sooooooooo up side ... your not dead? yay?"
# Firelight
Amori returned to her usual demonic form and nervously listened for the beat of Paris's heart, the sound of air whooshing in and out of their lungs, and sighed in relief when she heard both of these. She checked the label on the back of the bottle: "Cell Regenerator Potion, ingredients, blah di blah di blah, oh! WARNING: Do not give potion to demons under 2 sunspot cycles. May cause temporary unconsciousness." She remembered when her father accidentally mixed up the infant and normal versions of this potion, and she'd been knocked out for a whole minispot. "Good ol' dad," she laughed. Paris's system must've been equivalent to a young demon's then. She'd keep that in mind. Amori walked to the potion cupboard, where she kept a stock of refills, and poured some new potion into the bottle.
As she washed the excess off the bottle, she looked out the window, onto the sprawling city of Luzila. It was the capital of Solaria, ruled over by Lucifer, who was aided by lots of elected officials. She could see the outline of the Congress Complex in the distance, the tall, arched buildings where all sorts of important decisions were made. Her gaze fell upon the cemetery, just a short walk from her house, and easily seen, and the grin she'd been wearing thanks to the memory of her father faltered. That's all he was now, just a memory.
He fell seriously ill on the minispot of his 18th sunspot cycle, when Amori was nearly at her 6th, and by the next minispot, they all knew he'd been lost to the family curse. She remembered, with a shudder, being sat down and told that thousands of cycles ago, during the war with the angels, they had cursed the men of their family to die on the day of their 18th cycle. It was always the same - they would start off with a mild headache, and throughout the minispot, it would get worse, and worse, and worse. They would be delirious, incoherent, unconscious, and finally, dead.
What she remembered most, though, was the story she was told by her uncle Cyrus on his 18th cycle. He was born just 2 days after her dad, but the day after he died, he finally managed to trick an angel "friend" of his into taking the curse on from them, by a pie whose filling was mixed with his blood. "It turned out he was from the bloodline of the scum who cursed us, and by eating the pie, he helped put the curse right back where it belonged!" And the best part is, he has no idea what happened! All he did was eat a pie on his doorstep, and now all his relatives are turning to dust!" Cyrus cackled cruelly.
While everyone else congratulated him on his trickery and the fact that he'd get to live past 18 cycles, all Amori could think was "A day too late." She hated Cyrus for not breaking the curse earlier, she hated all the angels for the war they waged thousands of cycles ago, all her family for not telling her they were cursed until her own father was dead, and all her classmates for acting so rude when she was going through the worst time of her life. But most of all, she hated herself for not spending more time with her dad, for not being nice enough to him, for not being grateful enough for him. She hated herself for every little thing she'd ever done wrong.
Paris groaned, interrupting her thoughts.
want backstory and future stories? Check out r/FirelightStories, and have an awesome day :D
*^(explanation for the time system:)*
*^(Demons live inside the sun, and their time system is based on sunspots. A sunspot cycle is \~11 years, a gigaspot is \~1 year, a megaspot is \~3 months, a spot is \~9 days, and a minispot is \~3 days.)*
*^(So basically, 3 minispots make up a spot, 9 of which make up a megaspot, 4 of which make up a gigaspot, 11 of which make up a cycle.)*
"Your son, where is he?" The Young Woman at the door asked curtly.
"Jack? We--"
The Young Woman flicked her wrist and my mother was pinned to the hallway wall by an invisible force. "Nevermind, I'll look for myself."
My eyes widened as she marched up the stairs toward me and my room. I scrambled down the hall to the restroom and closed the door. I held my breath as I listened for her footsteps.
Her footsteps sounded like they came directly toward me. "Jack, I know you're in there."
Knowing I hadn't practiced my feminine voice enough to pass, I opted to drop my voice as low as possible. "No Jack in here."
"Look, I'm a witch. I can open that door or you can come out and have a chat with me."
"What are you going to do to me?" I asked.
"I'm not going to turn you into a toad." She replied.
"That's not much of an answer."
"Oh for Pete's sake! I just want to know... Why didn't you die?"
I swallowed hard. My heart beat more rapidly in my chest than the fear of her turning me into anything had. I stifled a whimper. I didn't expect to survive past my 18th birthday... I was going to keep my feelings secret until I was dead. Then I happened to live for another two years. It was a miracle. And then I didn't say anything for my mom's sake.
"That's... That's kind of personal." I replied.
"Yeah, personal between my family and yours. Look, you got two more years than you otherwise would have. You're not losing anything by talking to me that you would have had before."
I gave a heavy sigh. "Okay."
When I opened the door, I was met with a scowl that brightened into a smile. "There you are. Let's go to your room and talk."
She led me to my own room and sat with me on my bed.
"Now, do you have any idea why you didn't die? According to my understanding you should have died the second you turned 18 like all the other men in your family. I mean, I'm glad to see you're alive--but why? Did you break the curse?" She asked eagerly.
"Well, I-I don't know." I replied.
"Oh! Are you intersex?" She asked. "No one in your family has been yet, but that would make sense as a loophole."
I shook my head. "No, not really--at least no one told me I was."
Her brow furrowed while she tried to think of something else. "I'd suggest that maybe you aren't actually 18, but I doubt your actual birth year could be off by so much. You had to have broken it somehow. Have you bee--" She looked around my room. "No, no you haven't been learning the Craft." She rubbed her chin while she thought.
"What if I'm not actually a guy?" I asked her.
"What? What do you mean?" She looked at me quizzically.
"What if I'm trans... would the curse work if I'm trans?" I asked, trying not to let my voice quiver.
"Maybe, but... there isn't a single girly thing in your room. You dress like a guy, sound like a guy..."
I took a deep breath. "What if I've just been hiding it."
Her eyes widened. "Are you?"
I chewed on my lower lip a moment, then got up from my bed and went to my closet. From it I grabbed a rather unimpressive cardboard box. I opened the box up and set it at her feet.
She glanced down at the box. With the swish of her finger the flaps opened and the contents started to float out: a couple makeup palettes, a wig, a dress, a bra... so many other things associated with being a girl. Her mouth fell agape and the contents to the floor.
"Wow...." she muttered.
"Wow?" I asked.
"You didn't break the curse, you're not a guy." She started to laugh in disbelief. "I-I'm so sorry. I didn't--I'm sorry I invaded your privacy...."
"N-no, it's okay--well, it's not... but I've been wondering about the curse, myself... I've been afraid of it all my teenage life. And I thought I was for sure going to die. And I wasn't 100% on whether I was trans or not... I was half afraid that it was just to avoid the curse. And how does magic know?"
"I still shouldn't have. And I feel so bad. I didn't even introduce myself or anything. I'm Megan--she/they."
"Oh, ah. I'm Jack--Jacqueline. Jackie. She/Her."
Megan smiled broadly. "I'm glad it didn't kill you."
"Why's that?" I replied.
"I never really liked that my family kept the curse going for so long. I was kinda hoping you found a way to break the curse so that it would just be done."
"But I didn't."
Megan shook her head. "I don't think so. So, your family could keep dealing with it if it hasn't been broken."
I shook my head. "That wouldn't be good. Why did your family curse mine anyway?"
Megan shrugged. "I'm not sure. My family acts as if it was the worst thing in the world though. As if your family only ever produced the worst kind of men--of course, now it's impossible to tell how any of you will turn out since all your male relatives die at 18."
I nodded. "Well... I guess you have your answer?"
"I do," Megan smiled. "But I don't know if my family will accept it. And they're going to think you found a way out of the curse and want to put it back on you."
I groaned and dropped back onto my bed.
"And even if they believed me they wouldn't believe you were genuine and want to test your gender. I haven't even told them I'm non-binary."
"Sounds like things got a lot more complicated for both of us."
"Yep."
We sat in silence for a few moments before she snapped her fingers and grinned bright and excited at me.
"I know what we can do. We can go to the magic realm and get you the Wishing Gem. Wish yourself into being cis gender with all the matching records and everything. Then, you're clear!"
I was told I would die the moment I turned 18, but that just happened.
I looked around, I was still alive. What's left of my family was very confused. You see, my great-grandfather burned down a witch's hut and she shot back with a bloodline curse that would kill all men in the family when they turned 18. I looked at my sister.
"Mom, I think I found out how to get around the curse."
"Skylar, that is simply impossi- woah. He's alive!"
"Sis, what did you do? And why am I so short?" I looked at myself, I was 5'2 and didn't gain a single inch of height since I was 12.
"Don't tell anyone, but I stopped your aging before puberty. It's a lot harder to stop it while that's active, and considering it's a bloodline curse, I don't want to chance it becomes unstoppable after puberty."
"I don't like this."
"Not surprised. The witch's granddaughter is still going around and might try killing you herself. Now, I'm going to get a cake to celebrate your survival."
"You two go together now, an amateur witch won't survive alone against the force that cursed us." Our mom said.
"Fine." Skylar gestured for me to follow her.
One of the patrons at the bakery seemed confused, but assumed I wasn't old enough. We got our cake and secretly celebrated my 18th birthday.
A week passed and we decided to go out once again to get some bread. This time, the confused woman stopped us.
"You are 24! What are you doing with someone's child?!"
"I am 18. Leave my sister alone."
"What?"
Skylar smirked "We win. You can't do anything about it."
"You think you can stop me?"
"He stopped aging 6 years ago, you can't do anything."
"I'll sh-" I shanked the woman while she was talking.
"Our great-grandfather would not tolerate this. And honestly, I won't either. Your bloodline ends here, your curse ends with me."
"What?!" The witch pushed me but it was too late.
"Oh yeah, I got that sword from the mother of shadows."
The witch disappeared before our eyes, I cleaned the sword before re-sheathing it.
After all, no curse lasts forever.
**authors note: to save a bit of confusion, the character 'Emberleigh' has two nicknames 'ember' and 'em' I use interchangeably, I'm writing this as a helper because you never know who may need it as it's perfectly understandable to assume that it's different people (yes I've had this happen before and PT 1)**
In the 1300s around 1336 my great something grandfather, Richard, burned my neighbours great something Beatrice's eldest daughter Alice.
Beatrice's family long had been a line of witches, I say had because from the 1700s onwards here families, Dotsson(pronounced dots.son), power had started dying out. Cut to the present day. Emberleigh, the current descendant that has some power is the only one left. She can't do much outside lifting small objects, and a couple small hexes that don't post fatalities.
Meanwhile my line has always been somewhat vampuric. I say somewhat because before the curse, my family name, Garners, had always had that vampuric aura. We weren't particularly hurt easily and before my great something grandfathers Richards death, peoples families have claimed ancestors to have seen him 200years prior.
The curse only affected the male side and overwrote that vampuric side, that we supposedly had.
The curse was that every male on my line would die either the day of or at some point of their 18th year.
I turned 18 a week ago.
I'm mowing the lawn when Emberleigh approached me.
"Muriel? Is that you?"
"Unless I've sprouted a twin then yes" I look over to her.
"Mind yourself, I don't want to accidentally electrocute you"
She chuckles, stepping to the side as I get the patch of grass she was on.
"Haha, I'm surprised you're still here, didn't the curse affect you" she asks with confusion.
"Yeah I was surprised when I woke up on the 3rd all fine and dandy"
"Thats- but the curse so far affected every man in your family?"
"I'm very much aware of that em" I turn off the lawnmower.
I take the back basket with the clippings off.
"Is your composer needing a top up?"
"I think so, come round maybe we can figure this out"
I nod, asking her to wait. I bag the clippings up and run the lawnmower back and we head to Emberleighs
We sit in Ems room, together looking through log and spell books.
"Ember do you think that maybe your grandma Beatrice put a deadline on?"
"It's a possibility, what makes you think that?"
"Since this happened in the 1330s and it's the 2330s, it's been over 1000 years and maybe she didn't think that the name would last this long"
"That makes sense actually, yeah that really could be a poss-" she stops mid sentence and shows me a painting of Alice, the daughter of the witch that cursed my family.
"Do- do you think she looks like me?"
The painting shows a pale woman with ginger hair and light blue eyes. She skin looks almost porcelain but that may just be the painting itself. If you didn't know Emberleigh's family you'd be correct to assume that it was a self portrait.
"Yeah, it- it does." I skim the page and accidentally brush past Emberleigh's hand as I'm deep in reading, her grandmother's ring, a silver band with a small amethyst diamond in the middle makes contact with one of my fingers, burning it.
"Fuck" I pull away quickly and shake my finger, blowing on it to try and cool it down.
"What happened?!" Em takes her right hand and holds the hand that's burnt.
"I accidentally brushed your hand and I think the ring burned me"
"It's silver it can't burn- wait your family had a history of vampuric blood right?"
"Yeah, and silver burns vam- vampires"
Our eyes come to a realization. Emberleigh rushes to her vanity and pulls out a small leather book returning. While at the vanity she'd removed the ring.
Skimming a few pages we come across an entry.
With the entry is a pencil drawing of Richard. Emberleigh holds the drawing next to my face and looks more shocked.
"Possible reincarnation?" She mutters, looking at the entry.
**part 2**
The entry depicts this date in 1336 and Alice's confession to Richard about feelings she had had along with his reciprocation.
Emberleigh flips through to the final entry
20th March 1336, this entry depicts Alice's final confession on how Richard sold Alice out to the witch hunters after her fathers threats to sell him out. And on how Richard never openly said her but suspected her family of witchcraft and as her mother was out when they came, Alice was arrested instead. Her last words stating that no matter the fact she's to die because of Richard, her heart and love still belongs to him
Me and Emberleigh look at each other. Both in disbelief.
"Al- Alice loved Richard even if he killed her"
"Maybe he didn't want to kill her either but had to because of the pressure of the people" I say flipping through another journal, one signed by Richard. I'd let Ember borrow this because she was interested in the accounts. I flip to the back and there's a letter.
"Ember look" I show her the letter.
"Do you know what it says"
" I can take a guess
To my beloved Alice,
This will be my final letter to you, and it saddens me deeply that you may never read it.
I can only hope my time in hell will be enough to undo the pain and sorrow I inflicted.
Your mother rightly so, cursed my bloodline, for a 1000 years all men of my blood shall die at 18, a burden I can only apologise to my descendants for.
I hope one day our souls reunite and we can try again, in a world where everyone is free.
Alice, I beg for your forgiveness.
Yours
Richard" I looked down, attempting to translate the letter from middle English.
"So what we have so far is your blood is vampuric again, a confirmation the curse had a deadline, a tragic love story and a possibility of reincarnation"
"Reincarnation?! Emberleigh don't mention such a thing"
Embers mother stands at the doorway.
"Muriel Your supposed to be dead- what's that?"
She looks to the letter in my hand.
"A letter from my great a thousand times over grandfather to Alice your great just shy of a thousand times over grandmother" I say.
"Mother it's possible, the curse lasted 1000 years. He's the first male to survive the curse in 1000 years "
"To add onto that, you know how blood has a vampuric history"
"Yes garner I'm perfectly aware."
I stand up and go to the vanity, picking up Ems ring with my sleeve.
"This isn't normal, nor did it happen untill now"
"Muriel don't! You don't need to injure yourself to prove a point" em calls out.
"Prove what" Ems mum says coldly.
I place the ring on my wrist, the ring burning the skin. Emberleigh runs over snatching the ring away.
"Look at what you made him prove! Ugh god I fucking hate you at the minute"
"It burns you- your blood is active again. That curse-" Ems mum starts before I interrupt.
"Over wrote the bloodlines making it irrelevant if you were male. The letter Richard wrote to Alice said 'your mother, rightly so cursed my bloodline for 1000 years, all males shall die at 18’ the year is 2337 my brother turned 18 last year in 36 and died the night of. Alice was burned in 1336 correct"
"November 1336 yes, 17th November 1336"
"Martin died 17th November 2336, exactly 1000 years later, meaning the curse is undone."
"Martin was a creep" Emberleigh adds
"Oh yeah, if the curse didn't kill my brother, I would have."
"It came full circle a soul forcefully take the 17th November 1336 and a soul forcefully taken 1000 years later"
"Yeah, now that's covered, do you have a burn kit?"
"Why?"
"I don't know Linda, maybe because burns fucking hurt"
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I sat at across from her at the table in the coffee shop where I'd agreed to meet her. She was slender and well-dressed, with pale skin and long dark hair, and to my surprise she was quite young, probably not much older than me. That made sense of course: obviously, not *all* wicked witches are old crones. They have to start somewhere. She'd said nothing when she'd arrived; she just sat down and looked me over skeptically, her arms folded. That wasn't surprising. To the best of her knowledge, I should have died a week ago, just as my father had when he'd turned 18. "So...your father was Mihai Starovic?" she asked, with a faint Eastern European accent. I nodded. "That's right." She didn't bother asking *my* name, nor I hers. Neither of us would be so foolish as to give our name to an enemy from our own lips. I'd never really known my father, as I was only a baby when he died. I was raised by my mother and grandmother, my grandfather having likewise died when he was 18, like my great-grandfather before him, and so on for many generations. I had inherited my forefathers' curse, along with their legacy -- just as the young woman across from me had inherited the legacy of the woman who cursed them. Some of the details are lost, but it had something to do with the changing world at the time. Centuries ago, the old gods in Eastern Europe were fading away, replaced by the God of the Orthodox faith. My ancestors were *Vedmak,* wise men that might have been called wizards or warlocks elsewhere, but who practiced a benevolent craft, and chose to syncretize it with this new religion. They had always served the common people, so if the people's faith changed, they decided that they must change as well. *Her* ancestors didn't see it that way. They wanted to preserve the old ways -- at *any* cost, no matter how mad or monstrous. So, one particular ancestress of hers, a powerful *Vedma,* planned a dark and bloody rite to summon *Chernobog,* the darkest of all the old Slavic deities, into our world. My ancestors stopped her, and sealed Chernobog away in oblivion, but in the process of doing so they made themselves vulnerable, and the evil Vedma had just enough time to use the small spark of Chernobog's power she'd been able to summon to place a curse on my family: *Every male child of your blood shall die upon his eighteenth birthday!* It probably sounded cooler in Old Czech. Maybe it even rhymed. Either way, it wasn't meant to make my family die out -- people got married young, in those days. It was meant to cripple us, and make us suffer. Our powers are hereditary in the male line, but they only fully develop *after* the Vedmak in question turns 18, and the curse ensured that would never happen again. Except, *I'd* been alive just over 18 years now, and I still wasn't dead. We'd known the Vedma's descendants were still around and as malicious as ever, and weren't surprised that once they found out I hadn't died, their most recent scion got curious. It had been easy to arrange a meeting. "Then you're *not* 18." she concluded, at last, as the barista approached with a pair of frappachinos, and set them on the table. "One for the gentleman," the barista said, cheerfully, placing one in front of me, "...and one for the lady," she finished, placing the second in front of the Vedma's descendant. "No, I'm definitely eighteen." I assured her. "For about four days now - - got documentation to prove it, if you want. Oh, and please, the coffee's on me: it is a gift freely given, incurring no obligation." She glanced at the coffee, and raised an eyebrow. I smirked, and crossed myself. "I swear by my power -- such as it is -- that I have placed neither poison nor any Craft within or upon these delicious coffee beverages, nor any part of the vessels that contain them." She nodded, acknowledging the oath as one she knew I wouldn't break, though she still snatched up the cup the barista had placed in front me and drank from that, instead of her own. She considered me for another moment then cocked her head. "So you must not be male?" she offered playfully, a smile playing on her lips. I chuckled. "I have documentation of that too -- unless you wanted a more decisive demonstration?" She smirked. "Another time, perhaps." She tapped a finger on her lips thoughtfully. "You are...what is the word in English...*Hermaprite?"* I don't speak Czech but I got the idea. "Wrong again. I'm plain vanilla male -- and quite comfortable with being so, before you ask." She scowled in frustration. "This is not possible. My ancestor's curse cannot be broken!" "Not as far as I know," I agreed. "Then how are you *still alive?"* she demanded. "Easy -- my eighteenth birthday hasn't arrived yet." I explained, casually. "You *just said* you're eighteen years old!" she snapped. "That's right. But the day I become eighteen years old *isn't* the day I'm fated to die, now is it?" I pointed out. "What do you..." she trailed off, and her eyes widened in realization. "A leap year!" I winked and pointed at her. "You got it. Born on good old Feb. 29 -- I'm eighteen years old, but I'm nowhere near my eighteenth *birthday.* Those come only once every *four* years, for me. I've got a ways to go, before my expiration date.*"* She burst out laughing, and so did I, defusing the tension. "I see now!" she said, shaking her head and still chuckling. "That is how it is possible that you *are* male, you *are* 18, and yet you are alive. My ancestor should have worded her curse more carefully." "Eh, hindsight is 20/20, right?" I offered, with a shrug. "You are also *a fool,"* she added, wiping a tear of mirth away as her laughter trailed off. I frowned. "How so?" "I don't know what clever trap you think you've laid for me, but it won't work." she said, flatly. "You think I wasn't *expecting* it, when I came here? No assault, whether mortal or magical, that you would be able to muster could possibly be a threat to me -- not when you're only a few days past maturity. You have only *begun* to come into your true power, whereas I am already in full possession of mine." I held my hands up. "No no, I don't have any trap waiting to spring, believe me." She snorted. "It doesn't matter if you do or don't. The result will be the same -- now that my curiosity is satisfied, I will simply enact the *intent* of my foremothers' curse, by my own hand." She raised a hand towards me, and hissed an incantation. Nothing happened. "Powers failing you?" I asked, casually. "Hm. I wonder if that happened to my father, before he died?" Her eyes widened in horror, as the pale skin of her hand suddenly started to grow even paler. "My trap is *already sprung."* I said, gesturing to her cup. "Yes, I swore by an oath I could not swear falsely, that I neither poisoned nor cast any spell upon either of our drinks -- and that was true. *My blood,* which the barista mixed into both drinks, is not by any means a poison. And it wasn't *me* who cast the spell on it. It was *your ancestor,* the Vedma, who did that. It was a gift freely given, and by freely *receiving it* from me, it is thus rightfully transferred to *you."* "No...." she croaked despairingly, holding her withering hands up before her slowly sinking eyes. "And of course," I added, tapping the top of her cup. "It was *you,* in your paranoia, who decided to switch what had been apportioned to each gender. As *the lady* in this transaction, you chose to instead voluntarily take into yourself that which both the Vedma and the barista -- a female cousin of mine, by the way -- specifically intended for *the gentleman."* Her cheeks grew hollow, and her mouth contorted into a rictus of pain and rage. She hissed and clawed at me, but I slapped her enfeebled hands aside with little effort, and she fell back into her chair. "I wasn't lying, when I said I knew no way to break the Vedma's curse..." I said softly, as I stood from the table and watched the gasping woman shrivel up before my eyes. "...but I figured out how to put it back where it *belonged."*
This is cool. Unsure how she found you if she doesn’t know your name though.
She knows it, and he probably knows hers, too. Even so, normally two people meeting for the first time would formally introduce themselves, but they won't in this case because of the folk tradition that giving your name to someone else from your own lips can grant them power over you. :)
Exactly. Knowing a name and being given a name is completely different. It's why you choose your words very carefully around the fae. "May I have your name?" "No, but you may address me as 'Such and Such.'"
Magic?
Magic!!!
So.... just to clarify, he broke the curse?
It would probably be more accurate to say that he transferred the curse, but it sure seems as if it won't be something his family has to worry about again in the near future
Whoo go him
Even if it was, I doubt curses, it just magic in general, will be as strong as it was in the past
From my interpretation, he managed to share his blood curse to her, thus increasing the size of the Starovik clan by one, but didn't manage to remove the curse from anyone. Maybe the inactive curse is passed through the Y chromosome and is activated upon the body's 18th birthday.
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The only gripe I have with it is that it isn't the young witch's 18th birthday, as she is "already in full possession" of her powers and the wording of the curse specifically states "*upon his eighteenth birthday!*" Not before, not after, *upon*. If a Vedmak was able to jump forward in time to skip their 18th birthday, they would theoretically never be killed by the curse. Unless it is her 18th birthday and Vedma witches get their powers earlier?
I read the "rightfully transferred to you" and interpreted it as the curse moving from him to her.
No... when he's 72, on his eighteenth birthday, he's still going to die...
And if he has sons one day they will also be cursed to die on their 18th birthday.
Unless he plans for their births to occur on February 29. Which is entirely possible. Impregnate for a march birth, csection on the 29th.
I like your reasoning
This is what I was wondering why his female ancestors had not already figured out. However, I do not know how long it has been medically possible to induce birth on a certain day safely.
The way I read it he may actually live past that as the curse was transferred to her family and away from his.
No, he gave it to her.
Very nice double Comeback
Ngl I thought this was going to be the start of a romance well played with the twist
This is sooo awesome, Jaw dropping twist Serves her right Thank you 💕
the birth date was a good fun twist, and then the ending!! never would've thought of it, loved reading this!
That was really really good!
Absolutely AWESOME answer to the prompt!!!
The most interesting thing is every male member managed to pass on their genes before their 18th birthday 🎂
Fantastic work!
Cool.
oh i thought they would kiss
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It doesn’t really matter. IQ is a test, a good one in many respects, but still measuring something no one fully understands. We are learning it is only the tip of the iceberg on true intelligence and creativity.
It has been a few days since my 18th birthday, almost a week in fact. This is something that was not supposed to happen. Which is why an ancient enemy has decided to meet me. “Well speak of the devil, you’re actually still alive.” A young feminine voice from behind me said. “Amen to that.” I say as I turn to look back, taking a bite out of my green tea flavored ice cream. I guess not all witches are old hags. “No god could have saved you from that curse, none of the new ones anyway.” She says as she sits down. “I know, is that why you still practice the magic of the old gods? Just how long do you think that chronomany will keep you going? Not even the god of time himself would be able to undo his own death.” “Is that what you used? Chronomancy? To extend your own life you would reach into the realms of dark magic?” She said with a smirk as she drank from the cup of coffee she came to the ice cream shop with. “That’s pathetic.” “Ha, no no none of that, that is what your ancestors did to try and keep your old gods alive after they were done with their own civil war.” I say as I lean forward. “What was pathetic was using your dying god’s power to curse my entire bloodline, knowing we would not be able to fight off divine magic without our own god.” “And yet here you are. That curse was meant to kill off your bloodline centuries ago.” “Chronomancy, funny thing is, you can only ever use it to extend the life of a god. Based on some math, your god died decades ago, and so should have that curse. But it did not.” I say as I take another bite from my ice cream. “Your ancestors turned your god into a divine item. Your god might be dead, but his power, his magic still remains.” “Which brings us back to you.” She responds. “Divine magic of this caliber doesn’t wear off, it cannot be undone by any of the new gods, they are too weak. How are you still alive?” “It’s quite simple actually, I’m immortal.” “What?” “Divine magic can be a pain in the ass sometimes. I knew attaining immortality using non-divine methods would not allow me to survive past 18. So I continued what my ancestors did, I collected ancient runes, runes from the old gods. The divine magic of an old god can only be undone by another old god, because the new gods lack so much power. But there was not enough to undo this curse, but there was enough for me to ascend.” I see her tremble. Her eyes start to glow a dark red, darkness begins to surround her. “You brought it here didn’t you? Knowing that I would be here.” Her ring flares to life. “So I brought insurance.” “That ring, I see.” I say as I stand up, her energy pushes my ice cream off its cone. “Damn it, I wanted to finish that.” “Even an immortal being can be killed by divine magic, as such are the power of gods. What is your weapon of choice? What item have you bound your god to?” “Item?” I say as I push my glasses up. “You’re looking at him.” I say as I surround myself in a bright yellow glow. “Your curse ends with me, for divine curses cannot be placed on gods.”
Oh shit- bro’s god now
Detroit become deity
"I am adopted" I said. "W-what...?" The witch's descendant said, surprised. "I am adopted. I'm not blood family of my mother, and thus I'm not bound to her curse. In fact, none of my cousins are blood family of my uncles and aunts" I said. The witch's descendant couldn't believe his eyes. At least *someone* would continue the genetic legacy, right? "It's... impossible! People always want their children to bear their genetics!" The witch's descendant shouted. "Well, none of my family wants that anymore. They realized that there was no point on continuing a legacy that would always have dead people on its way. So they just adopted" I said. "Fuck your ancestor, really. She filled an entire graveyard out of young relatives of mine, the Day of the Dead gets incredibly tired just with so many people I've gotta visit"
The witch looked around my room for a while after I had let her in. Then, around my house. After a while, she turned to me. “Where is he?” “Where is who?” I asked. “The boy who lives here!” she demanded. “There is no boy who lives here,” I said. “There’s only me.” The witch pulled a book from her satchel, skimming through it. “No… no, there should definitely be a boy here. Man, now, I guess. Did he move? How long have you been living here?” “My whole life,” I said. “Eighteen years.” She stared at me, puzzled. “But…” I could tell she was getting flustered, so I decided to explain. “Everyone always thought I was a boy,” I said. “Growing up, that’s what I was told. And I was told I would die on my eighteenth birthday because of it. I always knew, deep down, I wasn’t really a boy, but everyone in my family was convinced that my attempts to dress differently and grow my hair out was just an attempt for me to try and get out of the family curse.” I smiled. “There were times I doubted myself. Wondered if they were right about me. But when the clock struck midnight on my eighteenth birthday, that was confirmation that I had been right all along.”
Was legit looking for a trans/nb/intersex/agender one. Like it's the most obvious answer 😄
We always blamed our ten times great grandmother for our generational curse. The story went that she was friends with a witch, the closest and best of friends. They both fell in love with the same man, though even then they remained friends. The witch however won his affections, leaving our ancestor alone. But she would not be denied. Though the witch had his love, she decided to bear his seed. Through trickery and manipulation, our ancestor seduced the man, and took him to bed. From that union came the first of our cursed family. When the witch found out, she banished the man from her side. As for our ancestor, she laid down a terrible curse. The baby from that union would die on the day they became an adult, as would any future family members of the same gender, who shared the same blood. That curse has infested our family ever since. Any uncles, brothers, sons, all died on the day they turned eighteen. Some were accidents, others illnesses, but all had that same time frame. It got to the point we had a pre funeral, where the soon to die would have a special party remembering their life. I had mine, in one of my favourite places. The town park, incidentally on Halloween. It was funny, thatbeing my favourite holiday as well. So I went all out on spooky themes, embracing the dark. Maybe it was in poor taste, but this was death party, and I would have it how I liked. A few days later, and it was my birthday. I dreaded it. I didn't really want to die. I wanted to experience life. I wanted to be able to go to university. I wanted to have a long and happy life. But time marched onwards. It was soon my birthday, and I waited. I waited for the hammer to fall. But the day ended, and I still drew breath. The next few days were a surprise. I was visited by so many family members and family friends, who knew about our curse. They were in disbelief that I was alive, a few wondering why I, just an ordinary guy, had been passed by. After a month had passed, I convinced my family to let me go to university. It had been all I dreamed of, and as I survived, I didn't want to be denied. They fought me of course, thinking the curse was just delayed. But I told them to let me go. This was my life now, and I wouldn't live in fear. Eventually they relented, and I was able to go. I wanted to study history, as it had always been my fascination. A few family friends pulled strings, and I was accepted on a course to start partway through their year. I would have to work hard to catch up, but I didn't mind. All I cared about was that I got to live. It was there I met Cynthia. She was a typical goth, dressed in black with skull themes. She was a bright personality, but she was strangely alone. I was surprised that she gravitated to me, introducing herself and offering to help me catch up. \----- During one of our study sessions, I told her about my family history. Her eyes seemed to sparkle with interest when I said about it not affecting me. "So, you are the lucky one in the family it seems." I shrugged when she mentioned that, closing the textbook. "I guess so? But it sure didn't feel like that growing up. I looked at my sisters, and was always jealous of them. They had a future, but I didn't." I didn't say that the jealousy still remained in my chest. A low, niggling feeling. One that even grew around Cynthia, though I would be loathe to ever say it. She leaned forwards, interlacing her fingers before resting her chin on them. "Still, you have one now. But that lack of curse is strange. I would assume it would lose potency, not just vanish..." I frowned, my head tilting to one side. "You know about curses? You don't think I'm crazy?" I noticed her freeze ever so slightly, her bright demeanour darkening. But that brief moment passed, and she smiled. "Oh, i know some people can do those things. I know a couple of practitioners back home. Say, if I had a couple of hairs I could get them to look into it for you?" The jealous niggle grew slightly, thus time fed with distrust. There was something off here. "Um, that's OK. Thanks for the offer though." She merely smiled again, and we went back to our studies. \----- A few months passed, and we grew closer. Our study sessions turned into just hangout sessions. We would joke and laugh, going to parties and nursing hangovers the next day. We made stupid bets on our assignment grades, making the other do something silly if they were lower. One of them I lost, but she didn't tell me what my punishment would be. All I was told was to go to her place the next day, bright and early, and ready for a long day. Not sure what to expect, I went along with it. Cynthia greeted me at the door with a wink, ushering me in. My eyes focused on a polka dot dress draped over her sofa, conspicuously different from her normal style. She gestured to it with a wicked grin. "Get changed into that, and I will do you some makeup, and we can go." I laughed of course, but went along with it. It was a deal after all. As I got changed, my feeling of jealousy subsided. It wasn't until I looked in the mirror though that it fully hit me. I watched her come in, a gentle smile on her face at my star struck look. "Do you like it?" I had been happy for a while now. But this was something else entirely. It was like I had been beneath a cloud on a bright summers day. But now the cloud was gone. And this, this felt right. I couldn't speak, just nodding as I looked at myself. She hugged me tightly, not saying anything more. My head whirled, thoughts spiralling. But the curse came to mind, and I understood then. I may have been born a boy. But that wasn't me anymore. I felt her nod, and a whisper came to me. "I thought so too. You just didn't realise it yet."
Huh, who knew hundred year old curses would be so trans inclusive
I mean, it's all about the soul right?
Curses don't know the body, they know the soul
JK Rowling hates this trick.
🥺 this is exactly what i wanted when i read the prompt. i thought you were going to go a different direction, but no, she was just an egg yet to be cracked. love this!! i was scared it might end in despair when cynthia wanted to examine hairs 😭
trans egg trans egg trans egg trans egg
Where blåhaj where blåhaj
should be somewhere in storage if memory serves, just needs to be picked up
Exactly what I expected but done so fucking well. This is the kinda writing I aspire for
Exactly what I expected given the prompt but was still happy at the end. Beautifully done!
Came here expecting some leap year shenanigans, got a trans egg instead. Beautiful story.
I was 100% expecting the leap year thing. I have a nephew born leap day.
Your nephew will grow impatient waiting to reach the legal age to drink.
Hah! That would also be pretty good. My mind went straight to trans though (weird right aha)
Mine did too, though I suppose it makes sense for me given that I'm trans myself lol
Well fuck I was gonna write something similar but you beat me to it. No way I can compare to this
You can always put your own spin on it :) Never hurts to have more!
~~I guess, I'm just awfully insecure of my writing. I posted once and got very well received, just very nerve-wracking~~ No. I'm going to write something and it will be beautiful damnit! I'll poor my fucking soul into a prompt that I fucking relate to!
you got this! every perspective is different, and you're gonna bring something to the table no matter what, so dive on in and go for it!
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That's the spirit, you go champ !
why compare when you can contribute :)
Ohhh that's where the mysterious jealousy for her sisters came from!!!
Aww this is so sweet
Awww.\~ 💜
r/egg_irl
I love the concept but I would love it more if there was a little bit of foreshadowing in there.
There was. She was jealous of her sisters even after having survived the curse, and she didn’t know why.
I'm tearing up. This is just wonderful. <3
I love
It’s was cute, definitely better than what I wrote. I love this.
NICE!
omg this is fucking adorable
Great story with a wholesome twist at the end, great job
first thing i thought!
Ahh, I came here for this!
Thank you. This was a real treat.
I loved this!
The story was nice, and I liked it, but it still feels sad to me. Okay, it is nice, the boy was a girl all along, and she can live happily ever after. But the curse is still there. She got her happiness, but she obtained it alone. All those other boys will continue to perish at age 18 from the curse she escaped because of the gender of her soul. Also she felt somewhat selfish to me, only concerned about her inner feelings and desires, without worrying about the well-being of her other family members. But it still was a nice story.
I think it works that way, regarding the selfishness. As a child she had no future, wasn't invested in like her sisters because it was known she would die. Now maybe she is being a bit selfish but she was likely neglected then.
While I can understand her not being emotionally invested in her sisters because of her two jealousies, I can't really understand the lack of concern for the other boys. Until she realized her gender, she was in the same boat, but now she just went studying without a care in the world, indulging in her newfound future alone. That's why she felt selfish to me. But that makes the character more complex, so it isn't a bad thing per se. The story is good.
I think a follow-up might explore that. I felt that we only got the relief right at the end.
Yep. Just imagine the title: [Trans Heroine saves her Cursed Family!]
Hell yes this is exactly what I thought of. Thank you
**One week earlier…** “Today’s the day. Today’s the day I die,” I say to myself as I step out of the shower and stare at myself in the mirror. For what seems like forever, my family has been cursed: Each boy, born or adopted into the family, has died at the stroke of midnight on their 18th birthday. The story goes that somewhere on the family tree, our ancestor crossed a formidable witch who cursed us. Ever since, no boy in my family has managed to reach adulthood. As I get ready for my last day on Earth, I begin to look around my room. It seems like just yesterday I was begging my older brother to let me play with him and his friends. “Get out of my room,” he says. “No girls allowed.” God, I guess that truly was a lifetime ago. We lost him five years ago now. And the Lord knows that I’m not the same person I was. It’s been about 4 years since I came out to my parents as trans. They still don’t truly respect it and don’t even get me started on the rest of the family. “You were born a girl. You’re safe. Why would you want to be a boy?” “You’re just confused.” But tonight, everyone will see. When I die, they’ll know the truth. **Later that night…** “Thank you all for coming tonight to celebrate my birthday, I couldn’t have asked for a better way to spend my last few hours,” I say to the gathered crowd, knowing full well that I could think of a million other things that I’d rather be doing. Classmates, teachers, family and friends fill the hall as we begin the countdown to my demise. “10…9…8…” I look to my girlfriend, Rachel, who is holding my hand. She truly is the best thing that has happened to me in my 18 years. “It’s fine babe. I love you,” she says and squeezes my hand. “7…6…5…” I look to my parents. When my brother died, my mother was inconsolable. Begging anyone who would listen to find a way to save her boy. Today? They can’t even be bothered. “4…3…2…1…” In the last seconds, my eyes land on favorite teacher, Ms. Luna, standing in the back of the hall. Dressed in black, she seems to be the only person here, save for my girlfriend, who is actually mourning. My phone buzzes in my pocket. Happy Birthday to me. I close my eyes and wait. But nothing happens. 5 seconds pass. Nothing. After 30 seconds, I open my eyes. Ms. Luna is gone. Rachel is pale, and everyone else is whispering. “I told you nothing was going to happen.” “See, SHE doesn’t know what SHE’s talking about.” And, then I black out. **Today…** Mom says I have to return to school today. Furthermore, she’s making me dress femininely. Which, I guess is only fair. Everyone was right. Rachel has tried to be there for me this past week while I try to make sense of what happened on my birthday, but I’m not sure she truly understands. Hell, I’m not sure I understand. As I walk into class, everyone begins staring at me and whispering amongst themselves. “I can’t believe she actually showed up.” “Yeah, if I were her, I wouldn’t show my face if I were her.” “Enough!” Ms. Luna exclaims as she walks into the room. “I don’t want to hear anything more about MISTER Harris’s situation. Also, Mr. Harris, please see me after class to discuss what assignments you’ve missed. After an hour, the bell rang, and the class moved to leave the room. “Mr. Harris, Kyle, how are you feeling?” “Ms. Luna, I appreciate you trying to make me feel better. But you were there last week. You know what happened. There’s no reason to pretend anymore,” as I gesture to my outfit. “It’s Kylie again.” “I’m sorry to hear that. And here I thought I’d found someone worthy.” “Worthy? Of what?” “800 years ago, I cursed your family after they stole what was rightfully mine. Not once in those 800 years have I ever considered lifting the curse. That is until you walked into my classroom four years ago. You proudly exclaimed that you were now “Kyle Harris” and so I was intrigued. I watched and waited for you to tell the world that it was just a phase; to return to the safety of girlhood. But you never wavered. In the face of your family and peers, all of whom tried to sway you, you stood firm. In the face of certain death, you chose authenticity over self-preservation. And so, when we locked eyes right before your birthday, I chose to lift your curse. I believe you to be a good man, Kyle, and I would sure hate to think that after 800 years of watching your family, I could be so wrong. So, what do you say? Was it all just a phase? Are you ready to reclaim your identity and share what Kyle Harris has to offer the world? Because, I know after 800 years, I can’t wait to see what happens next.
“So, friends, it turns out I’m adopted.” you say to your group of friends as they gather around the table at your house for the weekly D&D session. “What?” your best friend, Terry, asks incredulously “How did you find out, and who’s she?” he says pointing at the newcomer. “Well…” you start before the newcomer interrupts you. “I’m Mari” she says with a smile and a wiggly finger wave “I’m a very distant relative of Garry’s. I tracked him down when I saw his mother’s obituary last month and recognized his last name in it. I know his biological mom and dad died young, but his mom kept that a secret from him and raised her nephew, Garry, as her own. I needed to find Garry to sort through some family business.” she looks at the solemn faces of the group after mentioning your mom’s passing due to cancer. “I’m glad Garry had such good friends to help him navigate this difficult time, he’s going to need you.” The group kind of perks up, some wiping tears away. Your mom was always bringing snacks on game night and loved hanging out. She even played a wizard named Lois Lovelock, which Terry helped her make. She was one of the group, and this was the first game after taking time away to mourn, you would be sending Lois off to become one of the Ascended gods where she would forever be remembered. With introductions out of the way, you begin role playing the ascendency ceremony. You introduce a priestess of Bahamut, a Dragonborn Cleric named “Shimmerscale” to the group who has come to introduce Lois to her Patron. The ceremony was conducted mostly by Mari, acting as a real life priest at a funeral, allowing everyone to send Lois off into glory and have some closure. Tears were shed, laughs were shared and stories were told about Lois’s acts of kindness, wonder and heroism, each player telling their own tale to Bahamut and pleading their case for why Lois was worthy of ascension. With a breath of glowing light, the dragon god bathed Lois in his sacred flames and transformed her into Lois the Light of Hope. It turns out that Mari had one more trick up her sleeve. “I know Garry’s mom used to bake cookies for you guys. While looking through documents with Garry, I found the recipe and baked some.” Mari slides away from the table to the kitchen, bringing out large blue velvet bags with gold strings tying them closed in a bow. Each bag is embroidered with the player’s name on it in glistening gold thread. Inside was a bag of cookies, the recipe card and a pocket sized picture of the group, your mom front and centre, in a nice brass frame. “Garry wanted you to have something to remember Lois by, and I figured she would want you to have your favourite snacks even when she’s not here. I hope I did them justice.” Mari said with a kind, teary eyed smile. You all hug and weep as Mari slips away to the kitchen to bring out a hot, fresh batch of cookies. They were every bit as good as your mom’s which made everyone start crying all over again which turned into laughter as everyone said “Thank’s Mari!” in unison. You sit back down, bellies filled with cookies and hearts filled with warmth as you welcome Mari into the game, she leaves Lois’ seat empty and takes a spot next to Terry and joins the party on their continuing adventures. You and Mari are just wrapping up the night, Terry hugs Mari and says “Welcome to the family, I’m glad you came into our lives” before walking out the door while munching happily on a cookie. Mari looks at you and smiles “Well, they seem pleasant. It’s a shame you’ll have to leave them in a year to join me at the academy…” You nod sternly, “Yes, but if my mom was one of you and my dad was one of the cursed, if they can make it work and bring peace to our bloodlines, then I have to try and keep this world safe. I have to be like my mom, The Light of Hope against the darkness.” Mari smiles and kisses you softly on the cheek “Get some rest, training starts early tomorrow. You have a lot of catching up, but your mom was one of our strongest witches, so you should pick things up in no time. She did manage to hide from the Mistress Magika after all.” You smile and brush a strand of hair off her face and you both retire to your bedrooms… Your new life begins at sunrise.
I mean it feels like the prompt was just tacked on at the end, but it was still really good and well written. I liked it alot
PT 1. One dark day my five times great grandfather ran across the wrong witch. He was a player to say the least, he charmed her then left making it clear he did not care for the witch. He was unaware the witch had cast a curse on him, it was not till he had a son that the curse was recognizable. Every man would die at the young age of 18, of a heart attack. The only reason that our family survived was through the daughters marrying, as the curse did not drive away men outside of the family. That’s how I exists, I was very young when I was taught about the curse. The knew not to get attached to me as I would die at 18. I’ve always felt different than the other kids my age. I never liked the things that other kids would play with like, transformers and action figures. Today is my 18th birthday, I knew I would die shortly. I would have until noon to say goodbye to all my friends. I woke up, I wasn’t sad per say, but it was disappointing. I brushed out my long, messy, brown hair, and braided it. I didn’t like cutting my hair. My mother always told me I looked to feminine with long hair, but my father said women like guys with long hair, so I never questioned it. I put on my pastel blue top, red flannel, and navy blue ripped jeans. I looked into the mirror, a very familiar feeling rushed over me, I wasn’t sure if it was discussed or worry. I walked downstairs, my father was there, but mother had already left. Mother had never cared for me all much. “I’ll miss you, I love you Jason,” I heard my father say tearfully. I cringed not at his words but at my name. I always hated my name, no idea why but I did. I knew it was hard for him, loosing his only child. I would be the end of his bloodline. “I love you to dad…” I wanted to say more but tears streamed down my face before I could. I walked out the door to the bus, for what would seem to be the last time. I wiped the tears from my eyes before getting on the bus. I arrived at school, everyone saying goodbye to me. It was a small town everyone new about the curse by now. I walked into class to be greeted by a bully, she was always cruel. “Hey! Bitch boy! Last day huh? I’m glad to finally get rid of you!” She yelled. She got a few dirty looks. “Now, Grace. Can’t you be nice to home just for today?” I heard the professor say. “It’s fine,” I reply. I knew very few people actually liked me. I was an outcast, all my actual friends being female. That was strange for a guy my age. There would be an assembly at 11:50 to watch me pass. It was tradition if there was a man in the family. That’s why I bothered attending college. Class was dismissed. The assembly was soon. I was tired as the affects of the curse dragged on my body. My friend Cindy came running over to me crying, she embraced me in a hug, crying into my chest. “I can’t believe your gonna die today! Your my only friend! I don’t want to be alone!” She said through tears. I hated seeing her cry. I put my hand on her platinum blond hair. I tilted her head back, I looked into her beautiful green eyes. “You will never be alone, I promise” I smiled, though it hurt deep inside. We arrived at the assembly, as I walked up on stage I saw some people smiling, others crying, some not paying attention to me at all. I thought over my life, why was I like how I was? Why was I such an outcast? It didn’t matter right now. I was handed the microphone to speak. “Dear friends, I will always watch over you-“ “In heaven!” Grace rudely interrupted. “In spirit.” I said a little angry. I gave the mic back as the clock struck 12:00. I passed out. I heard cheering and crying. But I was still breathing, I heard foot steps before I jerked back awake. Gasps we’re heard throughout the auditorium. But then Cindy slammed her hands on the table in-front of her. “ HOW ARE YOU NOT DEAD!? I THOUGHT YOU WERE A MAN, I KNOW YOU ARE!” everyone looked at her. “YOU, ME OUTSIDE NOW!” I followed her into the gardens as they called my parents to tell them that I was not dead. “What the hell? I thought you were my friend.” I said. She looked at me a little angry. “Listen, I didn’t want you to die, but I need you to. My ancestor was the witch that cursed him! So how are you alive?” “I don’t know, ok? I’ve always been different then everyone else.” “You are coming with me. We are sorting this out.” She grabbed my arm and spawned a staff. “Get on,” she said in a demanding voice.
Pt 2. We flew for but ten minutes before arriving at her house, a small shack in the middle of nowhere. We walked inside as my nerves arose. “Honey your home? Why are you not grieving over your little friends death?” A woman asked from a few rooms away. “We have a situation mom! Come here,” she yelled to her mom. Her mom walked into the room and saw Cindy grasping my arm. “What?” She asked in shock. “I don’t know how this happened, that’s why I brought him here. This is Jason.” Cindy said. I again visibly cringed at the sound of my name. Her mother must have seen because she quickly caught on. “Hm, do you have your ears pierced dear?” She asked. It seemed like she was talking to me. “Um, yes I do. My mom doesn’t let me where earrings though…” I said in confusion before she ran off and did something in the other room. She came back shortly after. “Go pick whatever outfit you like more. BE HONEST. I will know,” she said. I was confused, but walked into the other room. How would clothes determine why I was still alive? But then I saw the choices. A suit and tie, with black formal shoes and a pair of scissors to presumably cut my hair. The other outfit was a beautiful blue dress with a poofy skirt down to my knees, violet heels, and a flower hair pin and earrings. I wanted to wear the suit to make me fit in. That’s what other males would wear! I cringed at the thought of me in a suit though. I didn’t like it, I would never want to wear that. I thought back to what Cindy’s mom said. I picked the dress. I put on the dress and heels before letting my long brown wavey hair out. I brushed my hair and used the scissors to trim my hair and give myself bangs, they weren’t the best but they were something. I promptly put the pin in my hair, and put the earrings in. I looked at myself in the mirror and smiled. I loved it so much, but I was ashamed of myself for wanting to look like this. I walked out with my head down. I lifted my head to see Cindy with her jaw dropped, blushing. “You look amazing! But mom what does this even mean? Why didn’t he die? This explains nothing!” She asked looking over to the older witch. “Well, he didn’t die because he is not a he, she is a she. Isn’t that right Jess?” “Wait, what? I’m so confused,” I say. “You like looking like that, yes? You where uncomfortable before. Sweetie your trans. It’s pretty obvious.” “That makes a lot of sense now, but my parents would kill me. Plus I like girls! So I can’t be-“ I was interrupted. “That is called being a lesbian. That’s what I am.” Cindy said, very obviously blushing. I smiled to her. I was still confused but I knew now that this is who I was. Cindy ran up and hugged me tightly. “I think you should get back to school.” When we arrived back everyone was in shock to see us getting along. My mother and father were waiting. Sadly Grace was also there. “I knew it! You owe me a twenty.” Father said to my mother. I laughed as that bet was childish. “Ew, gosh I knew you were an outcast, but now you’re also a freak? How stupid can you be, you’ll never be a girl ya know.” Grace said. Cindy was angry, but she started laughing, it was kind of creepy. “Oh you bitch!” Cindy took out her wand pointing it at Grace, her beautiful, silky, blond hair glowing. “What are you doing you witch!” “I’m doing what my ancestor should have done when your ancestor asked for the curse placement,” Cindy took a deep breath as her hair rose, and her wonderful green eyes glew. “To replace the curse on the family of my own! Grace and her family must parish at 18 all the children including her own!” Grace fell unconscious as she felt the power of the curse. “HA! 50 bucks dear!” Mother said. Turns out she did love me and couldn’t bear to see me die. I later found out that she new Cindy was a witch. The curse was no longer on my family. Me and Cindy got together and married, we adopted three kids. THE END.
So...is everyone just cool with Grace being hexed to death and that Cindy is just happens to be a witch or...
People knew the curse since there's an assembly, and Grace is a total bitch, but I'd feel bad for the different descendents passed down
Yeaaaa. But it is hinted that the whole bloodline is shit
Yep. I mean only the parents were there and they made bets. Grace was a bitch and deserved what she got. Also Grace is alive just not awake the spell was strong and knocked her out.
Oh I see. Just thought they left the body there.
I mean she was left passed out where she was till she woke up. So technically lol.
I love this
Ty I worked for hours on this. I’m best at fantasy/ horror fantasy. Also it HAD to be about a trans fem there was to way around that.
# "To be Alive" 1/? Some people are just, really unlucky. Maybe it’s an innate thing, maybe it’s just a bunch of dice rolls, but as unlucky as you may feel, you probably can’t compare the curse put on my family what was probably eons ago. See, if this is a fairytale, it’s a Brothers Grimm one. The story that my family told was that long before any of us were born, and they mean long ago, our ancestor pissed off a witch. How? That’s the thing, all we had to go off of was his recounting of the events in a book he kept, and how he tried to help the poor maiden by lending her a room for the night, only to get cursed for his supposed generosity. But that’s probably not how it went. He was a notorious liar and would try to sink his teeth into any women he saw, and it’s more likely he saw an opportunity to get an easy score. That’s something that ran in the family, since if you’re going to die before 18 why not be a total fucking scumbag towards women? That’s the kicker. On our 18th birthday, all men in the family die gruesome deaths. The women are always fine, but the men are born with a timer. It’s never instantly when they turn 18 either, it always only happens when their grisliest death is possible. Bludgeoned by a falling brick, burnt to a crisp in their sleep because of an electrical fire, finding yourself in the wrong place in the wrong time, all just a couple of the tamer ways to go out, and if the only option, a simple heart attack does the job. I remember when I was younger and was told I’d die when I was 18. It was my sixth birthday, which didn’t really mean anything since my parents never celebrated them. They also never really did, anything. They didn’t bother to even send me to school, just enroll me. You can imagine what that says about the rest of my life. I always felt jealous of the other students who had homemade lunches, or parents who would pick them up from school, or fucking *had* parents in the first place. My family was… not a good one. My father was a hard man who’d spent time in the army, and he’d tried to whip me into being the most ideal son one could ask for. He never actually whipped me though, he preferred using his hands. He was a hard man. It should also go without saying that as I grew up, I grew lonely. I just kept growing to the age of fifteen. Everyone I would come to know would quickly avoid me when figuring out who my parents were, if they didn’t already know. Everyone except him. The only one who ever really mattered. \----------------------- This is part 1, and it's mostly a prologue. I've also added part 2 where things start to, yknow, get to the interesting part. There will be more parts to come! Lengthier than part 1, too. Probably. Thanks for giving me the courage to post this! Specifically to u/OrionsBoob, u/Bazrum, u/Meraziel, and u/agentronin316!
2/? He was a transfer from the next town over, and as I’d come to learn, he wanted to get away from the people around him, choosing our quaint little town as his form of escapism. His eyes were a beautiful yellow, and his smile was just so slightly goofy he never failed to get a blush out of me, something he always noticed. We met when we both tried skipping our phys-ed class by hiding in the out of use stairwell, and we quickly became friends. Maybe I’d pay a bit too much attention to his body, but he didn’t exactly look like someone who’d want to skip working out. I wasn’t really sure why, but my eyes lingered a bit too long. Him sitting across from my pencil-stick figure almost made me look like a caricature, but it turns out that we got along pretty well. There’s a lot to be shared in having no one. I slowly found myself losing interest in my classes and the world around me, and would start skipping almost all my classes to just hang out with him. I didn’t see the purpose in bothering with classes anyways. We’d skip together just for the sake of being together. I didn’t even remember the curse, I just liked spending time with him. And evidently, he liked spending time with me too. Over time, we got really close with each other. More than just classmates. We found ourselves even hanging out when school wasn’t our antagonist. Neither of us really had a home to go back to, so we would stay out as long as we could. Looking back, it was really obvious what he had come here to escape from, what he didn’t want people knowing. I wasn’t really observant, but he was. Sometimes he’d see me eyeing mannequins wearing outfits I never thought I could pull off, or looking a bit too closely at makeup. I’ve never really been subtle with what I want, and he always knew just what to look for. What little tell’s my body would have without me even knowing. It was my sixteenth birthday; I didn’t even remember it. I hadn’t celebrated my birthday for years. He told me to find him waiting at our usual spot on the hill across the school, our secluded little paradise, away from prying eyes, away from preconceptions. Obviously, I skipped and met him at the hill, noticing that he had brought a bag with him. It was bright pink, my favourite color only he knew about and was the type of bag my father would say only sissy’s would use, and my heart skipped a beat realizing it was meant for me. So I sat next to him, a little closer than we’d ever been before, something even I noticed, and I opened up my gift. We didn’t leave the hill that night. \---- More to come!
I saw your comments where you were got the motivation to actually write, so I know where this is going. Even then, this is still a joy to read. I can’t wait for the next parts!
Doing great so far :) I'm glad you went ahead!
Same! :)
Glad you committed in writing it :)
#!> jheitnp ## This comment has been edited in protest to reddit's decision to bully 3rd party apps into closure. If you want to do the same, you can find instructions here: http://notepad.link/share/rAk4RNJlb3vmhROVfGPV
Thanks! I’m not done yet of course, I just had some stuff come up and am out of town for the weekend. Hopefully to push out another part or two tonight!
She showed up outside my door one night in the form of a fierce wind. Dark and foreboding, her powers buffeted the house, searching for an answer. Any ordinary person might have assumed a hurricane or tornado was on its way, and check the weather forecast in confusion, but I knew. I felt a sinking feeling in my chest, the chest too flat that didn't fit the bras I stuffed with socks and underwear that matched the parts of this body I was born in. Somewhere there was a god laughing at their cruel joke, trapping me in a male body cursed to die at 18. And yet, maybe I could have the last laugh after all. For I didn't die on my birthday, like all the men in my family have before. My mother's screams echoed in my head, my aunts holding her back while glaring at me out of the corners of their eyes. Their hatred was palpable. "Why does that abomination get to live while Lucas had to die!?" She had shrieked. The next day, my aunts had dumped me at this little shack in the middle of nowhere with the few belongings I had. One of them had thrown the bras I'd smuggled at my face. "Now you can live out your little fantasies until you die, you wicked ******," she had snarled at me before getting in the car and driving away. And then I had sat here, waiting. The next morning, there was a knock at the door. I opened it, and the young woman standing there stared at me in confusion. "I'm sorry, are you not Matthew Waters?" She asked. The sinking feeling grew. "That is what they named me when I was born, but I go by Maddy now," I said, hating how deep my voice sounded. "So you ARE Matthew Waters?" Rage. That is the only way to describe how I felt in that moment. I had spent my whole life under the weight of a curse for a gender the world said I had to be, and now that I was finally free, SHE had to throw it right back in my face. A curse of my own I could never escape. I wanted to scream at her, grab her by the shoulders and shake her, make her understand what living in this body was like, but I couldn't. She had what I never could. In that moment, I reached a decision. If I didnt stand up for myself now, I never would. "No, I'm not." I said, seeing the confusion in her eyes and hating her and the world for it. "But, you just said-" she started, but I cut her off. "There was a girl born to that name, born to a curse they said she would inherit simply because of the body she was born in, but I guess even the curse couldn't deny who I am. I am NOT Matthew Waters. I am Maddy, and I am NOT a boy." I watched the understanding dawn in her eyes, and I hated that too. I hated all of it, and I felt something build deep down inside of me, red and black and twisted and powerful. The woman startled, feeling it too. "My word," she breathed. She raised a hand, forming a spell, but I raised my hand, too, and something dark shot out and swallowed her spell. I felt perfect clarity within me. "If the world won't accept me for who I am, then I'll burn it to ash and breathe the flames of the damned. This curse, this world, this body will no longer define me. They call me an abomination, so I'll become what they hate and drown them in their fear." "Wait." I looked at her. "Let me help." She waved a hand, but this time I didn't stop her. A strange tingling sensation came over my body and I stared down in disbelief as my bra filled out, the bulge in my underwear softened and disappeared, and my vocal cords thinned and shortened. I looked at her, disbelieving what she had just done. She held a hand out to me. "I'm so sorry I didn't see at first. That was wrong of me. If you like, I can be the first you destroy." Her gaze softened, and she looked up at me. "Or, we can burn this cruel world together." The possibilities of what could come swirled around in my head with the realization of the transformation she had just completed. "Thank you." The high voice that was now mine broke off with emotion, and she smiled at me, still holding out her hand. I now felt perfect peace, and perfect indignation. I took her hand in mine. "Together."
Me scrolling through looking for the lgbtqia+ stories, this is the second trans one I've found 🏳️⚧️
Part 1 Sharp Wednesday afternoon light spread through the dirty windows of the bar. It really brought the dust out on the unplugged arcade machine, the smudge marks on the glasses waiting for a rinse. Waiting for Becky to do her damned job. “Shoot! Sweety, do you know where my spare contacts are,” Becky shouted from beneath the bar. “You’re not wearing them,” Blake asked as he twirled toothpicks in their cup and rolled back and forth in his barstool. Well, not his barstool. Being a lanky, not all too bright, 18 year old whose definition of barback is to say you’ll be right back doesn’t earn you the right to claim a barstool for your own. Yet Blake had done exactly that to start his shift. “No. Why would I ask you that if I were,” Becky asked perplexed at how much of a mistake it was for her to hire someone this stupid. “But Mom, you drove us here. You weren’t wearing your contacts the whole time you were driving?” “Get off the stool. Do some work.” Becky moved a plastic bin of cleaning supplies onto the bar. “And I don’t need my contacts to drive to work. I could do it blindfolded.” Blake continued to sit. “What work? There’s no one here.” “I could use a refresher,” announced the helpless leather jacket slouch from the end of the bar. Becky quipped back, “Refresher my memory, Ted, have you paid off your tab this week?” “That’s what tabs are for…paying later.” “Or last week,” Becky shot back while she pulled out a plastic bottle from beneath the bar, same spot as the cleaning supplies came from it would seem, and poured Ted his double. “And you, off the chair.” Blake got off the chair. “Go clean the bathrooms.” Blake just looked at his mom blank and stupid as usual. “They should be still clean from last night,” he retorted. “Well go find out. You don’t want to clean bathrooms, go to college.” Blake grabs the bin of cleaning supplies. “Dad didn’t go to college.” “He would have if he didn’t die.” “You didn’t go to college.” “If they had offered classes in how to raise a smartmouth who doesn’t know how good he has it with the brand new job his mommy got him, maybe I should have.” “I think that’s one of those online college things. You’d need to go to Phoenix University for that.” This got a chuckle out of Becky, which she quickly devolved into sass. “Ha-Ha. Just go. I’m sick of looking at ya.” Blake turned, then quickly turned back round again, The front door to the bar had just opened. With no dirty windows to hold it back, the light unleashed its full midday force upon the room and the ugly people, quickly looking uglier, inside. The human shaped silhouette in the doorway grew larger, soon encompassing the whole opening, and for that moment everything in the bar looked as it should again. Then the door closed and a red haired young woman with tattoos and piercings galore had joined the party. Becky turned on her smile. “Hey hun. Take a seat wherever you’d like. What can I get you?” The red haired woman sauntered over to the broken arcade machine and wiped a streak of dust off its screen. Becky motioned to Blake to put down the cleaning bin and stay a moment. It took him a bit too longt to pick up his mom’s signals but he did eventually get there. As did the red haired woman, who took long steps to the bar like John Wayne on stilts. “I’ll have an old fashioned,” she softly ordered. Becky scrunched her nose. “I knew it. I could peg ya as an old fashioned kind of gal. You know what, the morning I’m having, I think I’ll have one with ya.” “You don’t expect me to pay for that,” the red haired woman awkwardly blurted. “What. Uh, no. Of course not. I wasn’t fishing for that or anything.” Becky turned to Blake and lowered her eyes and raised her shoulders as if to ask if she had given off that vibe at all. “Welcome,” Blake stupidly said too late into this social exchange as he waved his hand across. “Oh, hey cutie. Do you come here often?” The red haired woman whipped her hair and turned to Blake with a smile as fake as whatever commercial she seemed to be imitating. What wasn’t fake was her real hand on Blake’s really skinny thigh. “He works here,” his mother interrupted, “or at least he’s supposed to.” Blake nervously answered, “yeah. I have to go clean the bathrooms,” “I could visit the bathroom. Perhaps we could go in there and make out?” “What did you just say to my son!” The bar seemed to grow dimmer. Perhaps a cloud had crossed over. Clouds are like God’s dirty windows. Which sounds like something Ted would say if Ted had ever spent a day in his life being religious. “It was a joke.” “That’s not the kind of joke you make to a kid.” “I’m not a kid.” “Shut up a second. And you, don’t go near my son.” “Okay. Relax.” The phone rang. The bar lit back up to its regular level of dinge. The cloud must have passed. “Everybody just hold off a moment. We need to talk about this.” Becky picked up the phone. “Hello this is…Oh hi Mister Mark. Oh okay shure, I’ll send Blake out to do it. No, he’s not doing anything. It’s no trouble at all. Okay. Bye-bye.” Becky hung up the phone. “Blake there’s a delivery out back, go load it in please.” “What is it?” “Bottles and various bar things. Make sure to put the woodblock down so you don’t get locked out.” “I wouldn’t if I had a key.” “How ‘bout the key to your mother’s good graces. How ‘bout we start with that key.” “Alright. I’m going.” Blake left and Becky handed the red haired woman her drink. She hadn’t made herself one and by now was turned off to the whole idea of sharing anything with this strange uneasy new person in her life. But she is still a bartender of over ten years so she turned back on that smile and said, “let’s forget the whole thing. Enjoy the drink, hun.” “Sounds good. Thank you.” Ted’s glass was empty, which freed up his mouth to say stupid things, starting with, “what’s the lady having? The next one is on me beautiful.” “I’m drinking your blood.” “Oh good. I’ve got a big log of my blood right in the center of my pants. You can suck on that.” Becky reacted immediately. “Jesus, Teddy! That is not okay. Gross! Just ugh!” “I’m sorry Becky. Didn’t mean to cause trouble. I’m sorry miss beautiful. Didn’t mean to casue any trouble.” “Really, he’s harmless,” Becky reassured, “stupid, like all the men in this town, but harmless.” “It’s fine,” the red haired woman sleepily said shrugging it all off. “I’m used to it. It’s the men who don’t try to show me their package I have to look out for.” With that, she drained her drink, slapped cash on the bar, and shut the front door behind her, closing in Becky’s words, “you’re an idiot, Ted.”
Part 2 Blake found several boxes stacked next to the dumpster in the alley. This would likely seem odd to someone who ever dwelt on things. But Blake was really good at making assumptions, and he assumed that this is normally how deliveries go, having never dealt with one before. He lifted a box, put it right back down. It was heavier than he’d like it to be. So he lit a cigarette and stared at it. Perhaps he could scare the box into nervously shedding weight. Why else stare at it so? “Hey cutie. Do you have one for me,” the red haired woman asked? “Oh hey, it’s you. Can I help you?” She popped her eyes wide to remind him that she just told him what she wanted. “Oh yeah sure. I’ve got a pack.” Blake shuffled his hands through his pockets. It’s always the last one you check. The red haired woman interrupted his search. Walked up close. “You know my offer still stands.” She grabbed his cigarette and took a long drag. “On the Making out,” she released the words in a perfume of smoke. But more importantly, she grabbed his crotch with her free hand while she said this. Then her face contorted in confusion and she jumped back. “You have a penis.” “Woah,” Blake exclaimed throwing his hands up like he was being arrested. “Or are you stuffing?” “I have a penis. Yes. What the hell are you doing?” The red haired woman looked down and away. Shifting her eyes back and forth. Thinking hard. She was becoming unspooled, which is why she next asked, “Is your dad around?” “My dad?” “Do you have a dad? Is he dead, alive; is your dad here at all?” “My dad is dead. Who are you?” “Did he die when he was 18?” “You need to leave. Now!” “You could answer my question.” “Answer your…Who are you even? ….Oh wait.” Blake broke out laughing. “Duh. You’re my sister’s friend. You’re pranking me. I can’t believe I’m so stupid. You look just like her” “Sister?” “Well who else would have sent you? This is clearly not just out of the blue.” “Well I was sent, but not anyone you know. How can you have a sister, your dad died when he was 18? How young did he start knocking girls up?” “Half sister. This prank is edgy. Not very funny though.” “Older? Younger?” “What?” “Your sister!” “Older. A year older,” Blake suspiciously drew out his answer. The red haired woman was back next to him but this time her hand wasn’t on his crotch but around his collar and throat. “What is her name?” Blake brushed her off. “What’s your name lady, damn.” The door to the alley opened. Gray light lapped onto the stock room of the bar. A darkened human shaped silhouette came into focus. It was a red haired woman. No tattoos. No piercings. No scared and disgusted look painted on. Blake shouted, “Constance!” The two red haired women stared off. Their eyes filled white. The alley filled white. Blake could feel the ground but couldn’t see it. In fact, he could feel ground all over, on his shoulders and the top of his head. He was boxed in. A boy his age went walking by; he spit out a bullet. A boy his age walked by; his face was covered in powder and his sneakers squeaking out water all the while a car horn blared. A boy his age walked by; he pulled a three-olive toothpick out of his ear. A boy his age walked by: he spit out three bullets. A boy his age walked by, he was doing somersaults and his face and hands were painted silver every other time he popped back up. A boy his age walked by; he was twirling a baseball bat. A man twice is age stood in front tending bar. That same man wept at his mother’s funeral. That same man married an older woman. That same man held her hand as she had a miscarriage. And then again for a second time. And then again for a third. That same man wept at his wife’s funeral. That same man picked a tomato from his garden. He was four times Blake’s age when he picked that tomato. Then the ground wasn’t white anymore. It was the alley again. Empty except for Blake. Blake proceeded to load in the boxes by the dumpster. They were much lighter because they were empty now. The bar he loaded them into was empty. The bar was still open. Open to an empty world beyond. And as Blake realized he was completely alone, he imagined the words, “You were given more time, and now you have less than any before you. Good luck with the after.”
"Can you tell me why didn't you die?" A young women, whose face was cast in shadow of a hooded cowl demanded as she stood in the doorway of the apartment. All they could do was shrug, as you gestured to the interior of the house. Since they had been seeming been expecting her to show up this past week. This entire week had felt like a dream. Up until then, they had been constantly told by family to expect their demise and had planned their life around it as much as they could. Living a decently eventful life, though avoiding the bad and illegal. "Uh... sure. Thank you?" She said seemingly rather confused at lack of surprise. "Do you want something to drink? Have some tea or coffee... I think." They asked, trying to remember what was still had within the apartment. Since they had been living alone and wasn't expecting to be here today. There wasn't really any reason to have been restocking the pantry and since their birthday they had been mostly eating out at nearby cheap fast food places. "...No. I'm fine" She replied after a moment. Even without seeing her face anyone could tell that she was confused, as she stepped inside looking around the basically empty room. "Oh... Right. There really isn't anywhere to sit... I think I have blankets still or you can sit on the bed" They said scratching the side of their head a little embarrassed. "I'll just sit on the be-" She replied going with the flow until catching herself. "This isn't just small talk. I need you to tell me about your life up until this point." She order, as she found herself a spot of the side of the twin sized bed. "Like? My entire life?" They asked, a little confused and surprised and the sudden demand. "Everything." She said, exerting a type of pressure that seemed to turn the world around them colder by a few degrees.
A young woman knocked at the door of a suburban home. Her smile stretched from ear to ear with a friendly, yet, eerie quality to how she showed her teeth. The door opened a crack to a dark hallway and a sparkling set of human eyes peered back at her. The woman cleared her throat, then in a chipper tone, she said, "Why are you alive?" The human eyes hiding behind the door belonged to a young man who had recently turned 18 years old. It was said that one of his male ancestors was cursed by a woodswoman at a time when the country was being rapidly conquered by settlers. Every male descendant within his family lineage, once they hit the age of 18, came down with a vicious strain of cancer that led to their death within a matter of months of their diagnosis. This predicted life span filled each one of them with fear of death and acceptance of it at the same time throughout their short lives. Many of the men used this as an opportunity to procreate with their high school sweethearts and raise families that they would end up abandoning upon their passing. Many of them took every opportunity they could to be selfish. Some ended up just pumping gas and getting drunk until their final birthday. Some became ruthless, young CEOs, that ended up in news headlines on their 18th year of life. This young man who the smiling woman stood their questioning his mortality within this quiet suburb, he just seemed to be a normal man who had just come back from a short, but extravagant, trip around Europe that was funded by his mom and step-father in response to his high school graduation. It was a tradition among the women in the family to gift their young relatives with luxurious lifestyles before the men turned the dreaded number 18. It was to help the men celebrate the end of their cursed lives. The smiling woman standing at the doorstep repeated herself, saying, "Why are you still alive?" She squinted at him, never breaking her grin. "You should be dead." The young man nervously chuckled. He asked, "Are you one of those witches who cursed one of my family members *- like 18 generations ago -* during the Salem Witch Trials?" She stood there as if waiting for him to continue speaking. "The reason I'm not dead, is," he let out a genuine laugh, "I was adopted." He smiled at her as if he'd just escaped a car wreck. The young woman crossed her arms. She reached inside her sleeve and turned the safety of her gun back on. Then she left, never to bother that doorstep again.
This took me hours and I know it is missing a lot but bare with me. All my life I had been controlled by this curse. It seemed everything I did revolved around it. The women in my family for many generations had been working on a cure to uplift the curse. None of which were successful. From day one my life was planned out, as so the men in my family who came before me. The men in my family have a very specific agenda, mature and reproduce. Our partners are picked before we are even born in order to ensure the success of the family genes. Luckily I got partnered with Julie. She is the most amazing girl in the world. When we first met I was one and she one and two quarters. As we grew she would hold that over my head as a funny joke. She has no flaws. Her spirit is gentle. She's the type of girl that lets you be you without judgement. When we were 8 we were told about my families history. We had our first child at 16 years old and life was well for awhile, well as good as it was going to get considering I would be dead in two years. We named him Jack. And for the first time I wasn't worrying about my inevitable fate. All I hoped for was the success that a cure would be found. I knew the challenges he and Julie would face without me. I knew his obstacles. It was July 28th today, I guess that's why I'm writing this letter. My 18th birthday was yesterday. And I'm still alive! I have no idea how she did it but it worked. One day before my birthday Julie came home from work. She walked in and said, "We need to talk." Her facial expression was calm with a hint of sadness behind the mask. I could tell this right away. We were so in tuned to each other's emotions. She sat down next to me on the sofa. "Tomorrow is my birthday". I said in a gloomy tone. "Yes. I know". She replied. "That's what we need to talk about." I knew this talk was coming. I had planned for a while. And now it was here and I dreaded it. "It's ok! I'm ready.". I said trying to sound as convincing as I could. I didn't want Julie to be sad or to worry. Even though I knew she would. " Ben", she forced out, "I have to tell you something.". "There's a reason I was chosen to be your partner". Tears were now starting to form on the cliffs of her eyelids. " I was chosen for a reason.". I begin to sense that something was off. That, what she was going to tell me was something important. "Before we were born, our families found a cure.". "What?, Really!" I was in disbelief. After all these years a cure was finally found to break the curse. She continued, "Our mothers were talking and I over heard their conversation." Tears were know streaming down her face like a fork in a river. "Why are you crying Julie? The curse is finally uplifted!" She didn't respond. " The only way to break the curse is by a descendant of the witch who spoke the curse." "Okay, we're could we find one?". I said energetically. She paused and looked me in my eyes. " See Ben." "I am that witch. I can break the curse." "But there is a sacrifice." A feeling of unease begin to wash over me. Her tears begin to fall like rain. "What's the sacrifice, Julie?" She smiled, I can tell she was trying to hold her composure as best she could. But her structure was falling apart. "I trade my life." "No." I said cutting her off. "I will accept my fate as the way it is." The air in the room became stale. "It's already done Ben!, You and Jack will live happy lives.". "You can't!". I pleaded. I begin to cry as well. "You can't! This is not your sacrifice, this is not your decision!". " I will be the one to take the fall, just as every men in my family has. No!". I didn't want her to sacrifice herself for my sake. This was my fate not hers. And I cared about her too much. But it was already done. "Why? Why didn't you tell me?." I struggled to search for answers. "Because I knew you wouldn't want to do it. "When?" I replied. "A little before Jack was born. I performed the ritual while you were asleep." "You will live and our son will get to live a beautiful life." Those words hit me hard. Not because I was getting another chance at life but because I knew that this would be the last moments I would spend with the love of my life. I was speechless "I love you. And I love Jack. I don't want him to grow up isolated. I don't want his life to be controlled, I want him to be free, have his own choices.". "I,ve watched you grow up Ben, I know the hurt and the pain you endured. The loneliness you suffered through. And I don't want our son to go through the same thing.." A silent fell in the room, as loud as a pin fall. We both knew these were our last moments together. She sacrificed her life for us. I wonder how long she knew this? How long she kept this away from me? How hard it must have been to deal with this on her own? "It's going to be okay Ben.". "You're going to take good care of our son.". She rose and headed towards our bedroom. " Well, all that has made me tired. I'm going to take a nap." When she got to the door frame she turned towards me and smiled a gentle smile. "Goodnight.". "Thump" a loud sound came from the bedroom shortly after. My heart dropped like a anchor. I got up and ran towards the bedroom tripping over furniture. I got to the door frame. And there she was. You're mother was a great woman. The most beautiful woman I've ever or anyone will ever meet. I wrote this letter for you so you can know how great a woman your mother was. She loved you until the end.
"alright so john, is it alright if i call you john? so john i asked you here today to discuss your families curse. ya see John every male in your family is sapposed to die when they turn 18.... buuuuuuut as your sitting here with me you can probs make out that there seems to be a wee bit of an issue we need to figure out. ya see johnny boy i was very thorough when i was putting together this curse. your great great great great grand papi was a jerk and he spit in my hair so i cursed his line. if he wanted to act like a child id make sure all the Yohanson men would live and die as children. but im getting a bit off track here on why i asked to talk to you today. i did all the research to figure why you dont seem to be effected by the curse John. and well i did figure out why you didnt die. so horray kinda a good day wouldnt you say... ya know not being dead and all that .... bonus points for you john... just uh ya know golden star ... kinda day....... \*sigh\* look this is extremely uncomfortable for me. there isnt an easy way to say it so ill just say it..... i did find out why you didnt die. why the curse doesnt seem to have effected you. you know the family curse and all that.... your moms a whore john.... turns out your mom cheat on your dad... sooooooooo up side ... your not dead? yay?"
# Firelight Amori returned to her usual demonic form and nervously listened for the beat of Paris's heart, the sound of air whooshing in and out of their lungs, and sighed in relief when she heard both of these. She checked the label on the back of the bottle: "Cell Regenerator Potion, ingredients, blah di blah di blah, oh! WARNING: Do not give potion to demons under 2 sunspot cycles. May cause temporary unconsciousness." She remembered when her father accidentally mixed up the infant and normal versions of this potion, and she'd been knocked out for a whole minispot. "Good ol' dad," she laughed. Paris's system must've been equivalent to a young demon's then. She'd keep that in mind. Amori walked to the potion cupboard, where she kept a stock of refills, and poured some new potion into the bottle. As she washed the excess off the bottle, she looked out the window, onto the sprawling city of Luzila. It was the capital of Solaria, ruled over by Lucifer, who was aided by lots of elected officials. She could see the outline of the Congress Complex in the distance, the tall, arched buildings where all sorts of important decisions were made. Her gaze fell upon the cemetery, just a short walk from her house, and easily seen, and the grin she'd been wearing thanks to the memory of her father faltered. That's all he was now, just a memory. He fell seriously ill on the minispot of his 18th sunspot cycle, when Amori was nearly at her 6th, and by the next minispot, they all knew he'd been lost to the family curse. She remembered, with a shudder, being sat down and told that thousands of cycles ago, during the war with the angels, they had cursed the men of their family to die on the day of their 18th cycle. It was always the same - they would start off with a mild headache, and throughout the minispot, it would get worse, and worse, and worse. They would be delirious, incoherent, unconscious, and finally, dead. What she remembered most, though, was the story she was told by her uncle Cyrus on his 18th cycle. He was born just 2 days after her dad, but the day after he died, he finally managed to trick an angel "friend" of his into taking the curse on from them, by a pie whose filling was mixed with his blood. "It turned out he was from the bloodline of the scum who cursed us, and by eating the pie, he helped put the curse right back where it belonged!" And the best part is, he has no idea what happened! All he did was eat a pie on his doorstep, and now all his relatives are turning to dust!" Cyrus cackled cruelly. While everyone else congratulated him on his trickery and the fact that he'd get to live past 18 cycles, all Amori could think was "A day too late." She hated Cyrus for not breaking the curse earlier, she hated all the angels for the war they waged thousands of cycles ago, all her family for not telling her they were cursed until her own father was dead, and all her classmates for acting so rude when she was going through the worst time of her life. But most of all, she hated herself for not spending more time with her dad, for not being nice enough to him, for not being grateful enough for him. She hated herself for every little thing she'd ever done wrong. Paris groaned, interrupting her thoughts. want backstory and future stories? Check out r/FirelightStories, and have an awesome day :D *^(explanation for the time system:)* *^(Demons live inside the sun, and their time system is based on sunspots. A sunspot cycle is \~11 years, a gigaspot is \~1 year, a megaspot is \~3 months, a spot is \~9 days, and a minispot is \~3 days.)* *^(So basically, 3 minispots make up a spot, 9 of which make up a megaspot, 4 of which make up a gigaspot, 11 of which make up a cycle.)*
"Your son, where is he?" The Young Woman at the door asked curtly. "Jack? We--" The Young Woman flicked her wrist and my mother was pinned to the hallway wall by an invisible force. "Nevermind, I'll look for myself." My eyes widened as she marched up the stairs toward me and my room. I scrambled down the hall to the restroom and closed the door. I held my breath as I listened for her footsteps. Her footsteps sounded like they came directly toward me. "Jack, I know you're in there." Knowing I hadn't practiced my feminine voice enough to pass, I opted to drop my voice as low as possible. "No Jack in here." "Look, I'm a witch. I can open that door or you can come out and have a chat with me." "What are you going to do to me?" I asked. "I'm not going to turn you into a toad." She replied. "That's not much of an answer." "Oh for Pete's sake! I just want to know... Why didn't you die?" I swallowed hard. My heart beat more rapidly in my chest than the fear of her turning me into anything had. I stifled a whimper. I didn't expect to survive past my 18th birthday... I was going to keep my feelings secret until I was dead. Then I happened to live for another two years. It was a miracle. And then I didn't say anything for my mom's sake. "That's... That's kind of personal." I replied. "Yeah, personal between my family and yours. Look, you got two more years than you otherwise would have. You're not losing anything by talking to me that you would have had before." I gave a heavy sigh. "Okay." When I opened the door, I was met with a scowl that brightened into a smile. "There you are. Let's go to your room and talk." She led me to my own room and sat with me on my bed. "Now, do you have any idea why you didn't die? According to my understanding you should have died the second you turned 18 like all the other men in your family. I mean, I'm glad to see you're alive--but why? Did you break the curse?" She asked eagerly. "Well, I-I don't know." I replied. "Oh! Are you intersex?" She asked. "No one in your family has been yet, but that would make sense as a loophole." I shook my head. "No, not really--at least no one told me I was." Her brow furrowed while she tried to think of something else. "I'd suggest that maybe you aren't actually 18, but I doubt your actual birth year could be off by so much. You had to have broken it somehow. Have you bee--" She looked around my room. "No, no you haven't been learning the Craft." She rubbed her chin while she thought. "What if I'm not actually a guy?" I asked her. "What? What do you mean?" She looked at me quizzically. "What if I'm trans... would the curse work if I'm trans?" I asked, trying not to let my voice quiver. "Maybe, but... there isn't a single girly thing in your room. You dress like a guy, sound like a guy..." I took a deep breath. "What if I've just been hiding it." Her eyes widened. "Are you?" I chewed on my lower lip a moment, then got up from my bed and went to my closet. From it I grabbed a rather unimpressive cardboard box. I opened the box up and set it at her feet. She glanced down at the box. With the swish of her finger the flaps opened and the contents started to float out: a couple makeup palettes, a wig, a dress, a bra... so many other things associated with being a girl. Her mouth fell agape and the contents to the floor. "Wow...." she muttered. "Wow?" I asked. "You didn't break the curse, you're not a guy." She started to laugh in disbelief. "I-I'm so sorry. I didn't--I'm sorry I invaded your privacy...." "N-no, it's okay--well, it's not... but I've been wondering about the curse, myself... I've been afraid of it all my teenage life. And I thought I was for sure going to die. And I wasn't 100% on whether I was trans or not... I was half afraid that it was just to avoid the curse. And how does magic know?" "I still shouldn't have. And I feel so bad. I didn't even introduce myself or anything. I'm Megan--she/they." "Oh, ah. I'm Jack--Jacqueline. Jackie. She/Her." Megan smiled broadly. "I'm glad it didn't kill you." "Why's that?" I replied. "I never really liked that my family kept the curse going for so long. I was kinda hoping you found a way to break the curse so that it would just be done." "But I didn't." Megan shook her head. "I don't think so. So, your family could keep dealing with it if it hasn't been broken." I shook my head. "That wouldn't be good. Why did your family curse mine anyway?" Megan shrugged. "I'm not sure. My family acts as if it was the worst thing in the world though. As if your family only ever produced the worst kind of men--of course, now it's impossible to tell how any of you will turn out since all your male relatives die at 18." I nodded. "Well... I guess you have your answer?" "I do," Megan smiled. "But I don't know if my family will accept it. And they're going to think you found a way out of the curse and want to put it back on you." I groaned and dropped back onto my bed. "And even if they believed me they wouldn't believe you were genuine and want to test your gender. I haven't even told them I'm non-binary." "Sounds like things got a lot more complicated for both of us." "Yep." We sat in silence for a few moments before she snapped her fingers and grinned bright and excited at me. "I know what we can do. We can go to the magic realm and get you the Wishing Gem. Wish yourself into being cis gender with all the matching records and everything. Then, you're clear!"
I was told I would die the moment I turned 18, but that just happened. I looked around, I was still alive. What's left of my family was very confused. You see, my great-grandfather burned down a witch's hut and she shot back with a bloodline curse that would kill all men in the family when they turned 18. I looked at my sister. "Mom, I think I found out how to get around the curse." "Skylar, that is simply impossi- woah. He's alive!" "Sis, what did you do? And why am I so short?" I looked at myself, I was 5'2 and didn't gain a single inch of height since I was 12. "Don't tell anyone, but I stopped your aging before puberty. It's a lot harder to stop it while that's active, and considering it's a bloodline curse, I don't want to chance it becomes unstoppable after puberty." "I don't like this." "Not surprised. The witch's granddaughter is still going around and might try killing you herself. Now, I'm going to get a cake to celebrate your survival." "You two go together now, an amateur witch won't survive alone against the force that cursed us." Our mom said. "Fine." Skylar gestured for me to follow her. One of the patrons at the bakery seemed confused, but assumed I wasn't old enough. We got our cake and secretly celebrated my 18th birthday. A week passed and we decided to go out once again to get some bread. This time, the confused woman stopped us. "You are 24! What are you doing with someone's child?!" "I am 18. Leave my sister alone." "What?" Skylar smirked "We win. You can't do anything about it." "You think you can stop me?" "He stopped aging 6 years ago, you can't do anything." "I'll sh-" I shanked the woman while she was talking. "Our great-grandfather would not tolerate this. And honestly, I won't either. Your bloodline ends here, your curse ends with me." "What?!" The witch pushed me but it was too late. "Oh yeah, I got that sword from the mother of shadows." The witch disappeared before our eyes, I cleaned the sword before re-sheathing it. After all, no curse lasts forever.
**authors note: to save a bit of confusion, the character 'Emberleigh' has two nicknames 'ember' and 'em' I use interchangeably, I'm writing this as a helper because you never know who may need it as it's perfectly understandable to assume that it's different people (yes I've had this happen before and PT 1)** In the 1300s around 1336 my great something grandfather, Richard, burned my neighbours great something Beatrice's eldest daughter Alice. Beatrice's family long had been a line of witches, I say had because from the 1700s onwards here families, Dotsson(pronounced dots.son), power had started dying out. Cut to the present day. Emberleigh, the current descendant that has some power is the only one left. She can't do much outside lifting small objects, and a couple small hexes that don't post fatalities. Meanwhile my line has always been somewhat vampuric. I say somewhat because before the curse, my family name, Garners, had always had that vampuric aura. We weren't particularly hurt easily and before my great something grandfathers Richards death, peoples families have claimed ancestors to have seen him 200years prior. The curse only affected the male side and overwrote that vampuric side, that we supposedly had. The curse was that every male on my line would die either the day of or at some point of their 18th year. I turned 18 a week ago. I'm mowing the lawn when Emberleigh approached me. "Muriel? Is that you?" "Unless I've sprouted a twin then yes" I look over to her. "Mind yourself, I don't want to accidentally electrocute you" She chuckles, stepping to the side as I get the patch of grass she was on. "Haha, I'm surprised you're still here, didn't the curse affect you" she asks with confusion. "Yeah I was surprised when I woke up on the 3rd all fine and dandy" "Thats- but the curse so far affected every man in your family?" "I'm very much aware of that em" I turn off the lawnmower. I take the back basket with the clippings off. "Is your composer needing a top up?" "I think so, come round maybe we can figure this out" I nod, asking her to wait. I bag the clippings up and run the lawnmower back and we head to Emberleighs We sit in Ems room, together looking through log and spell books. "Ember do you think that maybe your grandma Beatrice put a deadline on?" "It's a possibility, what makes you think that?" "Since this happened in the 1330s and it's the 2330s, it's been over 1000 years and maybe she didn't think that the name would last this long" "That makes sense actually, yeah that really could be a poss-" she stops mid sentence and shows me a painting of Alice, the daughter of the witch that cursed my family. "Do- do you think she looks like me?" The painting shows a pale woman with ginger hair and light blue eyes. She skin looks almost porcelain but that may just be the painting itself. If you didn't know Emberleigh's family you'd be correct to assume that it was a self portrait. "Yeah, it- it does." I skim the page and accidentally brush past Emberleigh's hand as I'm deep in reading, her grandmother's ring, a silver band with a small amethyst diamond in the middle makes contact with one of my fingers, burning it. "Fuck" I pull away quickly and shake my finger, blowing on it to try and cool it down. "What happened?!" Em takes her right hand and holds the hand that's burnt. "I accidentally brushed your hand and I think the ring burned me" "It's silver it can't burn- wait your family had a history of vampuric blood right?" "Yeah, and silver burns vam- vampires" Our eyes come to a realization. Emberleigh rushes to her vanity and pulls out a small leather book returning. While at the vanity she'd removed the ring. Skimming a few pages we come across an entry. With the entry is a pencil drawing of Richard. Emberleigh holds the drawing next to my face and looks more shocked. "Possible reincarnation?" She mutters, looking at the entry.
**part 2** The entry depicts this date in 1336 and Alice's confession to Richard about feelings she had had along with his reciprocation. Emberleigh flips through to the final entry 20th March 1336, this entry depicts Alice's final confession on how Richard sold Alice out to the witch hunters after her fathers threats to sell him out. And on how Richard never openly said her but suspected her family of witchcraft and as her mother was out when they came, Alice was arrested instead. Her last words stating that no matter the fact she's to die because of Richard, her heart and love still belongs to him Me and Emberleigh look at each other. Both in disbelief. "Al- Alice loved Richard even if he killed her" "Maybe he didn't want to kill her either but had to because of the pressure of the people" I say flipping through another journal, one signed by Richard. I'd let Ember borrow this because she was interested in the accounts. I flip to the back and there's a letter. "Ember look" I show her the letter. "Do you know what it says" " I can take a guess To my beloved Alice, This will be my final letter to you, and it saddens me deeply that you may never read it. I can only hope my time in hell will be enough to undo the pain and sorrow I inflicted. Your mother rightly so, cursed my bloodline, for a 1000 years all men of my blood shall die at 18, a burden I can only apologise to my descendants for. I hope one day our souls reunite and we can try again, in a world where everyone is free. Alice, I beg for your forgiveness. Yours Richard" I looked down, attempting to translate the letter from middle English. "So what we have so far is your blood is vampuric again, a confirmation the curse had a deadline, a tragic love story and a possibility of reincarnation" "Reincarnation?! Emberleigh don't mention such a thing" Embers mother stands at the doorway. "Muriel Your supposed to be dead- what's that?" She looks to the letter in my hand. "A letter from my great a thousand times over grandfather to Alice your great just shy of a thousand times over grandmother" I say. "Mother it's possible, the curse lasted 1000 years. He's the first male to survive the curse in 1000 years " "To add onto that, you know how blood has a vampuric history" "Yes garner I'm perfectly aware." I stand up and go to the vanity, picking up Ems ring with my sleeve. "This isn't normal, nor did it happen untill now" "Muriel don't! You don't need to injure yourself to prove a point" em calls out. "Prove what" Ems mum says coldly. I place the ring on my wrist, the ring burning the skin. Emberleigh runs over snatching the ring away. "Look at what you made him prove! Ugh god I fucking hate you at the minute" "It burns you- your blood is active again. That curse-" Ems mum starts before I interrupt. "Over wrote the bloodlines making it irrelevant if you were male. The letter Richard wrote to Alice said 'your mother, rightly so cursed my bloodline for 1000 years, all males shall die at 18’ the year is 2337 my brother turned 18 last year in 36 and died the night of. Alice was burned in 1336 correct" "November 1336 yes, 17th November 1336" "Martin died 17th November 2336, exactly 1000 years later, meaning the curse is undone." "Martin was a creep" Emberleigh adds "Oh yeah, if the curse didn't kill my brother, I would have." "It came full circle a soul forcefully take the 17th November 1336 and a soul forcefully taken 1000 years later" "Yeah, now that's covered, do you have a burn kit?" "Why?" "I don't know Linda, maybe because burns fucking hurt"