The Criswell's Curse

“Kitten, where are you? I brought you some food.” I entered the room, eyes glancing to the bed just to see a familiar shape, a pure black fur ball whose tender sleep had been abruptly interrupted. The small creature blinked a handful of times before stretching its body, yawning deeply enough to expose his sharp fangs.

Slowly, my figure approached the floor in front of the bed, placing the food inside the clay cups. In a swift movement, the kitten jumped and began eating, its tail wiggling from side to side, happily. My attention shifted to the creature’s paw. The cut was far lighter than my memory recalled, having already healed and yet, this small, adorable being remained by my side, never leaving the room.

Feeling like an intruder, oppressing the little cat as it ate, I turned my body and headed towards the old wooden desk, opening one of its drawers and swiftly removing a bag. Its cloth was filled with holes - courtesy of the moths flying around from time to time – as a book and a quill rested inside.

Dipping the edge of the quill into a small ink compartment, its tip darkened, turning into a pitch-black color. Automatically, my wrist moved, and words filled the page.

According to my memories, the engagement occurred when I reached adulthood, at the tender age of 16, regardless of not having any coming-of-age ceremony. It was only three months after my moving to the Wharton’s estate that Terrel busted into my chambers, taking my virtues with him.

That’s too long... I thought as the quill traveled through my cheeks, patting my skin gently with its softness.

By my calculations, my presence there would be far sooner then what was supposed to. Exactly a full year and three months until that man lost his reason, supposedly. Of course, since the flow of time had been altered, nothing was a certainty - Terrel could take even longer, or maybe, just maybe, even less.

“If they don’t run to you, you run to them.” Folding the papers in half, my hands stored them away in their rightful place.

In the middle of getting up, I glanced at the bed, where the black kitten now stood. His bright red eyes popped out against the sun rays that traversed through the window and a strange, tingling sensation voyaged through my body. Suddenly, all the strength in my legs dissipated, forcing my hands to steadily grab onto the chair, hoping to regain some balance. It was only then that the wood was so strongly grasped that my knuckles paled.

Did I just imagine it...?

In another look, the cat sat on the floor, eating peacefully, almost as if what had originally transpired was nothing but a mere illusion. Getting back on my feet, my body darted out the door. I needed a breather.

As my figure strolled around the garden grounds, my mind laid elsewhere.

Am I going insane? Was the question echoing on repeat in my mind, trying to justify the strange mirage I’d seen.

Unexpectedly, something got a hold of my waist before twirling me around, forcing me to land on someone’s appeasing warmth. “Lady Ophelia, to appreciate the lake’s beauty, one should be on land.” A strangely charming voice said in a rather seductive tone.

My arms quickly pushed his torso away, taking a couple of steps back, allowing a full observation of the man standing in front of me. Bradley, the knight in shining armor, at his best.

Are you a dog waiting for praise? I cringed slightly inside as a yearning expression remained engraved on his pretty face.

“Lord Bradley, what a coincidence meeting you here.” When such words left my lips, his strange expression dissipated. His brows narrowed down the moment a distant smile spread. “You might not be aware, but there are several ways to appreciate beauty.”

A wide yet delightful smirk was carefully drawn on his lips, as if he was already proud of what he was about to say. “Please enlighten me, My Lady. How do you appreciate beauty?”

“That is a rather simple question, My Lord. I don’t. Wasting my precious time appreciating beauty is nothing more than wasting my breath talking with engaged men.”

The curve on his lips became inexistent and the environment grew silent. “Lady Ophelia, pardon my rudeness, but I must ask... why are you so hostile towards me?” His green eyes were sparkling like two polished emeralds and his golden, curly hair fluttered with the wind, forcing the sun to crawl back in envy. “Have I offended you in any way?”

I admit that, for a moment, I was taken aback by such marvelous scenario, but that’s where everything became clear. This pitiful theatrical display was the tactic he used to achieve his goals: his almost crying eyes, the carefully chosen words, and the timed gentle breeze, were mere tools to his charm. This was how he stole maiden’s affections, hearts and loves that never belonged to him.

“Don’t misunderstand my words, Lord Bradley. I do not despise nor am hostile towards you, however, you are my dear sister’s fiancée.” Slowly, I approached him, speaking in a rather low, mocking tone. “Besides, I set my heart on another prize and you; you don’t fit the criteria, My Lord.”

Seeing his brows almost drawn in a single line and his precious lips strongly pressed together made me let out a chuckle. Not yet satisfied, my soul pushed his buttons even further. “Have you not heard? I am to be wed as well.”

His hands turned into two large balls, clenching strongly within themselves. Of course, a man whose appeal was higher than any type of aphrodisiac was used to being desired by any lady; however, much to his dismay, this time he wouldn’t be stealing another heart.

“Well then, Lord Bradley, my sister is certainly looking for you. Do drown her with your love and affection.” Glancing towards the lake, a smirk stamped on my lips, proudly with the wreckage done. In the meantime, he simply glared at me with a bursting flame behind his grass eyes, sulking like a kid. “Have a good day.”

I bowed and took my leave as he stood there, enraged but unable to utter a single word.