The Criswell's Curse

I woke up to an unfamiliar ceiling. Bradley’s head laid beside me as his hand held mine, both feeling the rays of the moon warm our skins, each shard merging into his golden hair. His long lashes were closed, his chest raising just to fall once again and his curly hair completely messy, a sight that not many got to experience as his soul found itself sinking deeper into its slumber. Meters away, Jade’s platinum strands swung as he breathed soundly in his chair. In his arms, a sword I’d seen before, the one Bradley often carried around, beautifully adorned with golden coats and Seedling jewels. Beneath their resting eyes, large dark circles formed contrasting the paleness on their skins.

Slowly, I removed myself from the bed, praying not to make a single peep, a sound that could bring them back from the realm their souls rested upon. Leaving the room, the familiar halls of the Hillgarden’s estate greeted me; long yet thin, packed with paintings and sculptures - eager to display their wealth. The mansion was empty, peaceful even, with no servants wandering around, no nobles bickering about.

The night sky was gradually becoming lighter, announcing the beginning of the day to its worshipers. I opened the back door, allowing an icy breeze to touch my cheeks, flushing them. The green grass tingled my feet as my bare skin stepped on its being. Glancing around, nature controlled all, declared its domain in any living creature, past, present or future, as if the events that preceded had never come to be.

Prosperous were the hills surrounding the estate, tainted by life, covered in color. And my lips hummed a melody as I walked, as my figure voyaged through another’s man’s home, through an unknown land - like my mother wished to do.

‘People change if you try.’ She used to tell me.

I never embraced that advice. Deep down, I’d always known it wouldn’t matter, that nothing would ever change. But back then, after seeing her warm gaze, after experiencing that unforgivable kindness, the feelings that had been lost gathered in me yet again – like a plague that rapidly spread through the people, dwelling around the slums, weighing everyone down.

It was ironic how my lives were but a frightful story, the type one tells children as a lesson, as a result for their mistakes, yet because of her a hint of humanity still remained resolute in such a frosty heart.

‘If you leave bed, the monster will come and get you.’

That’s what parents usually said to their kids, hoping to scare them away, to prevent them from doing something harmful. Even if they grew scared, once the sun kissed the land, these fears would become meaningless - at least until the darkness roamed about. But for me, they were not monsters who hid beneath your bed; they were men, women, demons shaped like people who willingly swallowed you whole, ripping your soul apart by their greed - leaving nothing of your old self behind.

For many years, my soul held onto the thin strand of hope that if I were kind, suffering would pass by; karma would not reach. But I was wrong. Crowds of ghosts, of sorrow, of guilt, of regret dug deep into my soul, haunting it from its core.

At some point I dreamed. I hoped. I had faith.

I prayed to God, to all entities that guide Men into their righteous path. I begged for their mercy, for their help to stop the clock - to prevent it from ticking. But their silence hurt more than any flame, than any pain ever inflicted in my body.

And then that man appeared. A being whose hunger was wide enough to consume a world, clawed his way into my heart, taking away everything good that remained. My dreams turned to shame, my soul darkened, my wishes were nothing more than regrets and my hopes were simple illusions ruled by despair. No matter how hard I tried to fix it, the pieces wouldn’t glue themselves together – how could they, if they didn’t match anymore?

I didn’t remember him, how he was, what he did, the way he treated me. But I could feel the burning hatred carved in me; the wish to rip his heart away, like he did to mine. His actions had created something bigger, something he couldn’t contain. He wished to attain a rose, but I didn’t wither - instead I grew, became tainted in putrid black, luring every sinner out of their nest.

Still, I never wanted to be like this.

I begged.

I cried.

I yelled.

But His silence remained. He wouldn’t take my soul as it had become far too dark for God’s hand - impossible to cleanse by His mercy, by His kindness.

That’s when I knew better that to fight it. Nothing would change, no matter what I did.

When my soul was good, it didn’t change. Now that it is wicked, it won’t either.

As I arrived at the top of the hill, the sun was already rising, causing the deep sky to turn bright into a kind orange before shifting to a beautiful, cold light blue. Tears ran down my face as its greatness caused my shadow to appear - the same shadow that was ignorant of my pain and yet kept following me around, hoping for something more.

Deep down, I knew I wasn’t fully lost. Deep down, I still prayed.

I prayed for the day my memories would disappear.

For the day, my emotions would go numb.

For the day my childhood would return.