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a Curse

Can you tell me how the curse began?

No, no one knows that.

No one?

No one.

Well, that doesn’t make sense. Someone has to know when the curse started.

Oh, we know when the curse started. We just don’t know how it began.

Okay, smart ass. When did the curse start?

When she walked into the forest.

When who walked into the forest?

The veiled lady. She wore all black. You remember her, don’t you?

Elinora, the woman in mourning?

Yes, that’s the one. She mourned her dead family for six and a half years. And then she walked into the forest. And that is when the curse began.

You think Elinora started the curse?

I didn’t say that.

But you suggest it. By saying it started when she walked into the forest, you’re implying she had something to do with it.

No, it all might be coincidental. However, I think it’s odd the bones started to appear when she ventured into the trees, never to be heard from again.

What do you mean? She still lives in that house, the giant mansion on Roland Street.

That’s what she wants us to think. Have you seen her? Heard from her? She has not walked these streets in three years!

My cousin carries groceries to that house every Monday. He leaves them on the porch. When he returns each week, the ones he left on the previous trip are always gone.

She wants us to think she’s still human.

Oh, come on now. You’re being silly.

Am I? How do you explain all the bones?

I don’t know. That’s why I called you here.

And why is that? Why call me here if you doubt me?

Because I think you know more about the bones than you let on.

What gives you a reason to think that?

The bones.

The bones? What about the bones?

We found the pile in the crawl space under your house. Blanketed with a thin, black veil.

 

– Written by Miss A on October 15, 2012

“Enchanted Forest” by Allegra Newman
Mixed Media on Matte board
Created for “To the Power of N, Where N=12”

 

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About 365 Things to Write About

I'm inspired by almost anything and everything creative - nature, architecture, art, words, music...I like to roam along streets, through foreign countries, and within my mind where the world is full of endless possibilities. I dream of being an idealist, but I've experienced too many harsh realities for that wish to ever be true. Therefore, I look for the hope and the good in small nuances, and I express my thoughts and feelings about the world around me on pages and canvases whenever I can.

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