Blessed Curses

Cast Out of Achlysta

Have you ever tried to run between the raindrops?
I have, and even when I could see where they’d fall, I was never able to avoid them.
When you’re able to see the future, that’s all you’re doing: seeing it. You can’t stop it. You can’t change it. All you can do is brace yourself until the raindrop hits the tip of your nose.


Seeing the future is a burden, especially when one’s voice is stripped from them.

“I can’t believe you didn’t warn us! You’re a monster! You don’t care!” A chorus of anger creates a tidal wave over me. I would be pounded into the pavement if emotions could physically assault me. Sticks and stones and all.

I couldn’t. A supreme sadness pulses within me. He took away my voice.

BEFORE

“Anya, wait up!” I call out, tripping over the gravel in my haste to catch up to my best friend. “Are you seriously speeding up now?” I yell, laughing.

Anya turns around so suddenly that her long chestnut braid swings around and smacks her in the face.

I double over in laughter, unable to catch my breath.

“Naveah Jayne, you knew that was going to happen, didn’t you?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest in a fake huff.

“I might have.” I shrug. I have the gift of sight, of seeing the future. Or maybe “burden” is a better word than “gift.” Some of us in the village of Achlysta are blessed with a gift at birth, a power. It’s a sign of good fortune in a family. For me, the second I turned one year old, I saw my mother’s death.

I continue, “Don’t use my middle name, you aren’t my mother.”

Anya rolls her bright hazel eyes. “Pick up your skirt when you’re running, you buffoon.” She leaves dust behind as she takes off again.

I deserve that, I think as I lift my skirts and run after her.

The sun beats down on our shoulders as we race down the dirt paths toward the bakery. The loser has to buy the winner a lemon biscuit. In other words, the stakes are high.

Anya screeches to a halt, and I almost topple into her. “I dare you to sneak into Elderman’s hut!” she announces.

We both stare at the modest hut in front of us. It feels like all the noise fades away and the air stills around us. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” I say, hoping Anya will drop it.

Anya pokes me in the side. “It’s a dare, it doesn’t have to be a good idea. Remember when you dared me to plunge into the ice-cold lake in the middle of Winter! Consider it payback.” She raised an eyebrow and smirked.

“Somehow, I feel like this is more dangerous.” The negative energy emanating from the hut is a warning of Elderman's dark, twisted life. He’d appeared in the town ten years ago, and at first, he brought great fortune. He had lots of gold to share among all of us, appearing to be a mysterious benefactor come to stimulate our economy. However, he had a sinister plan to control the town. When he’d found out some of us had gifts, he started manipulating us through them. Although now, we assume he’d known all along and wanted our trust before exploiting us. Every day, he grew more powerful as he created curses through potions and spells. He’s able to twist people’s gifts into curses. His presence has left a permanent dark cloud over Achlysta. Every so often, he packs to leave, and we become hopeful he will finally leave us to clean up the mess he’s created, but he always returns. The longest he’d been away was a year, and it was the best year in Achlysta since the first year he’d arrived. Yet right when we slipped into a hesitant sense of security, he arrived back in town, uglier and more vicious than before. There were rumours he worked with the devil himself and took trips to see him to sell even more of his soul.

And here I am about to enter the hut of a demon.

“I’ll buy you a lemon biscuit,” Anya says, nudging me toward the door.

A surprised uneasiness seeps into my bones; the door is unlocked. The easiest excuse has evaporated; we take our dares very seriously. Ever since we were kids, we’d dare each other to do insanely risky things to cure the boredom of village life. Last year, on my twenty-second birthday, Anya dared me to eat the twenty-two biscuits she’d bought for me in one sitting. I think that’s the only time I laughed while vomiting. It’s just a hut, I tell myself. He isn’t even home. My mouth waters as I think of the lemon biscuit and take a deep breath.

As I duck inside, stepping as softly as possible, I have to stop to allow my eyes to adjust to the unnatural dimness of the hut. The only source of light is the sunlight leaking around the drawn curtains. I have the strong urge to throw open the curtains, but tamp it down. As I begin to find my way in the dark, I notice a heavy film of dust covers everything. Odd and a bit creepy.

While I’d technically completed the dare, I feel compelled to explore further. The pristine and ornate desk catches my eye. I have never seen something so beautiful and affluent. And… spotless, no dust. I run my finger along the smooth surface, and it comes away clean. A single paper rests in the center of the desk. Last year, Elderman took away the village’s ability to read and write, so as I look at the paper, the letters blur in front of my eyes into a meaningless mass.

However, when my fingers graze the paper, a vision comes to me. Elderman is plotting something evil. I see gifts stripped away from the blessed people, scars forming along their skin as they wail in pain, physical and emotional. People are devastated to lose the powers they’d been gifted at birth, the gifts they’d come to cherish. Their lives are split into the before and after. Their trauma is clearly shown on their skin; what they’d lost is embedded in their appearance. A reminder every time they look in the mirror.

I gasp as a nasty, foul hand clamps around my mouth. “It would be a shame if you told anyone of this. Never speak again, Naveah.” Elderman releases me.

When I try to say something, to tell him I most certainly will tell people, not a sound escapes my lips. Not even a hoarse whisper, nothing but silence.

He grins, his sharp yellow teeth glinting in a small stream of sunlight escaping the curtain. “Now, be on your way, Naveah.”

My legs move on their own and carry me out of the hut. Anya stands outside waiting, literally bouncing on the balls of her feet. “So?” she asks. “You were in there a while.” She waggles her eyebrows, expecting juicy details.

I shake my head and run home. I have to figure out a way to warn everyone.

When I arrive home, I immediately collapse on my bed, exhausted. I try to think of ways to warn people of the impending doom, but without the ability to write or speak, I’m lost. I drift into a deep and heavy sleep.

I awake the next morning, and I pray that the spell he’d placed on my voice is temporary. The fact that he didn’t use a potion or spell to curse me is alarming. No one else held that kind of power; most people need a spell or a potion. My ex-girlfriend tricked me into drinking a tonic that cursed me with honesty. Just for me to confirm that I hadn’t ever lied to her.

Yet, I still can’t form a single word. A strange cacophony forms outside, people screaming. I rush outside to find Elderman’s plan already in effect. I thought I had more time, but I should have known better. Those who have been blessed bear strange scars on their faces and arms. Ropey snakes wind their way across their features as they cry out in agonizing pain.

I look at my own arms and feel my face. It’s smooth, I feel nothing.

Anya walks up, taking notice of my clear skin. “You were in his hut yesterday.” She hesitates, but continues, “Did you know? Why aren’t you scarred? DID YOU KNOW?” Her words come faster, her voice rising. People are watching.

I once again try to speak, but nothing comes out. I meekly nod. I don’t know if I would have lied, but due to my curse, I don’t have a choice.

“Wow, I cannot believe you, Naveah.” She picks up a small rock, tossing it up and down before hurling it at me.

I step back, shocked that my best friend, the person whom I love most, would try to hurt me. Tears well in my eyes.

“You’re a traitor!” she yells, causing everyone to notice me. To notice I am not scarred.

“She knew?” they ask each other. “Well, of course, she can see the future,” they murmur. “But, she isn’t scarred.” The anger rises. “I can’t believe you didn’t warn us! You’re a monster! You don’t care!”

And as I’m thinking their words alone could pound me into the ground, they start throwing stones. I run back inside my hut. I pack a bag as fast as I can and run out the back door towards the forest. There isn’t anywhere else to go.