Become a Fan
By Lillianna Mashall
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Not rated by the Author.
A short story of cleaensing of the woods of Gypsie squaters. The final Gypsie leaves a curse.
The fog cloaked everything in new garb; even the most innocent sapling turned dark and sinister. As fast as I could, I ran while hearing the thundering horses coming fast. The branches of trees and the bushes tore at my face and arms, and the tears from my eyes were stinging the scratches on my cheeks. I had to get to the lake. I had to get away. Nevertheless, it was not to be.
Horses came upon me and encircled me. I stood in fear and then remembered myself. Out of breath from my mad run, I gulped gobs of air, and stood straight and threatening. Two of the six riders held burning torches. Most likely, the same torches they used to burn the wagons and the tents. They all had rifles and guns. Most likely, the ones they used to kill my uncles, aunts and cousins.
One seemed to lead the others. He was an older man with a beard. The leader looked at me as if he had captured a wild animal. With a big grin he asked, "Going somewhere, Gypsy?"
I knew they meant to kill me. I knew only I survived the attack on our camp. I grieved for my physical body but knew I would return for revenge. My curse of revenge sent for these men and their generations to come.
I stared each rider in the eye conveying my will to curse them and theirs. A little man with spectacles and a bowler hat, cried out, "Don't look into her eyes. Avoid the eyes."
The leader got off his horse. He held out his gun pointed it at me as if I had a gun myself. "You people need to learn your place." I continued to stand straight and stare him in the eye. He gave a mean and threatening laugh. "Maybe we could have some fun before we finish this job." My hands released the fist that had been and my fingers opened to release my nails. He reached out and pulled my cloak away. As he ripped my bodice from its seams, I slashed my nails across his face. He bent down and away, but in a flash, his hand hit me in the face knocking me to the ground.
I crawled away to escape him, but the man grabbed me by the hair. He again hit me and then lay on top of me holding my arms. I could hear the others laughing. I opened my eyes to the man molesting me. His eyes called to mine. Staring in his eyes his body began to shake. His expression changed from glee to fear. He rolled off me as I watched him convulse on the ground in a great seizure. I stood and moved clear of his thrashing body.
My head woozy at the hits taken, I tried to keep my focus. However, I was unable to. He stopped his uncontrollable shaking. But there was no more laughing; no more of their jibing and lecherous thoughts. It was still while the man, filthy from the dirt and his own excrement, stood up.
He collected himself and the hatred from his eyes landed on me. "You bitch! You're dead."
My head clearing slightly, I nodded knowing this was the truth. Then I said, "And you will suffer these seizures until you are dead." Looking at the other five men with assured intent. "You will all suffer the same until you are all dead. Your issues will all suffer these seizures till they are dead." I lifted my chin, "It is your reward for the death and destruction you have caused in your fear and ignorance."
The man with the spectacles repeated his instructions. "Don't look into her eyes. Avoid her eyes."
I laughed at him as ugly as I could. "I don't need to look into their eyes, you fool." I continued to laugh and I lifted my arms. They all looked with their eyes wide. "You are all cursed. Cursed with the affliction to shake and soil your selves at any given moment. This will happen in your homes; in the saloons; in church on Sunday. And..." I looked at the man standing with his gun aimed at me. "... Every time you are with a woman. When you wake from these fits, remember me and mine."
The man held his gun further out, and as the shot went off, I heard, "No!"
Site: Curse by Lillianna
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|Reviewed by Melissa Mendelson
|A very dark piece of literature that pulls you in and keeps you still to the very end, leaving a chill behind. Very well-done.|