Our Last Dance [ONC 2021]

Chapter IV ~ Ophelia's Story

How easy would my life have been, had I not been cursed?

This thought seemed to cross my mind more and more often, but I still hadn't found an answer.

It was at moments like these, when I was sitting alone, silently looking out over the park filled with people promenading and couples sitting in rowboats, navigating across the small lake, that this thought would not leave me alone.

~ ~ ~

My history is a strange one, starting over a thousand years ago. There's not much I remember from that time of course, seeing as I was just a baby. Even my own name is a mystery to me. The only names I've ever had were names given to me by strangers, strangers like Icarus.

All that I do know, is pure speculation, conclusions I have found hidden among my thousands of thoughts, but I am certain about one thing: I am cursed.

Like I told you before, I don't remember when it started. It must have been centuries ago, in a place long forgotten, by now waiting to be discovered by curious archaeologists or grave robbers, looking for riches.

As an infant, there's not much I could have done to anger someone enough to earn such a cruel fate. Some people might not like babies, but nobody would curse one, would they? That has always made me wonder, what did my parents do to get me cursed?

Perhaps it wasn't even meant as a curse. Maybe it was just some sick joke a god or a witch or some other supernatural being played on me. Maybe it was once meant as a blessing, twisted in a cruel way. Maybe someone wished me to be known in every time, for centuries to come. Maybe... maybe I would never know.

Either way, curse or blessing, someone must have loved me very much. If they had angered someone, my curse would have been their punishment, if it were meant as a blessing, they had simply wished the best for me.

There are only a few things about this curse that I know for sure. The first one is that it forces me to die every year I have lived. When I wake up, the world has changed. How much time has passed is hard to tell. One time, it was only fifteen years, the next it was ten times as many.

The second thing I know about it, is that when I wake up, I can remember everything from the past year. The people I met, the places I'd been, the things I learned. It's as if I never actually died, as if I simply travelled to another era.

It might be hard to grasp, but basically, I'm a time traveller who can only travel forward in time, once a year, at a moment she doesn't choose herself. I have no control of how far I travel, and no control of how long I stay there. If you really look at it, I don't have control over anything having to do with the curse.

The last thing I know, which might seem very obvious, is that not everyone has been struck by this particular curse. It took me almost seven years of my life to figure this out.

It was the middle ages, as far as I can remember. I'd been taken in by the nuns in the abbey since I had no one to care for me and there I'd been taught many things. Not only did one of them teach me how to read, and even write, but I was also taught how to count the days. I started marking them on a piece of parchment, so when my year was nearly over, I knew.

The poor nuns didn't know what had come over me when I started telling them goodbye. They thought that the devil himself had taken over, and as they called the exorcists to expel this evil spirit, I went.

I told the story to a girl I'd met my next year, and she had almost the same reaction as the nuns. 'That's not normal!' she kept screaming. And then: 'Witch, witch, she's a witch!'

Like I had done many times before, and like I would do many times after, I made a run for it. But her screams kept echoing in my head. Witch, she's a witch! If a witch could do this, could a witch undo this?

In the golden age of with hunting, it wasn't hard to find someone who could give me an answer. In almost every town, there was at least one woman on trial for witchcraft at all times. People would point me to the small openings secured with bars, at the bottom of the prison. 'That's where they keep her', they would say, 'that's where they keep the witch.'

At night, when only a few drunks would wander the streets, I went to talk to them, to exchange whispering words through the bars. Some of them didn't hear me, others didn't want to, others couldn't give me an answer and threw curse words at me until I was forced to leave.

They were all the same, and in the morning, at sunrise, they all burnt at the stake. The smoke would reach above the houses and leave the city dark, even when the sun was already at its highest.

My hope was hanging on by a thread when I came back to the prison one cold evening. There was a new witch there, someone from outside of the city, they said. Tomorrow she would burn.

She was looking out onto the street as I sat back against the wall of the building. When I asked her the same question I had asked all those before her, she answered me.

'Oh, poor girl. You don't think I'm an actual witch, do you? I will be burnt on that stake for nothing more than having some knowledge of medicine, but if you want my advice, stay dumb. I don't know what this curse is you're talking' about, but you shouldn't bother me with it, and you should most certainly not bother anyone else, or you might end up like me. Keep your secret and get out of here. I'd like my last moments in peace and quiet please.'

And just like that, she cut the thread without a second thought.

I looked at her, holding back tears. Yet another person who couldn't help me. I didn't leave right away, even though she'd asked me to. Instead I crossed my legs and watched the women in the cell. She was no longer looking through the bars but had instead turned to a corner of her prison. After a long silence, I mumbled her good luck and got up to leave, absentmindedly brushing the dirt from my dress, but before I was able to leave, the women spoke again.

'How do you do it?' she asked. There was a small tremor in her voice, as if she was trying not to break down. 'How did you face death so many times, without being scared?'

I didn't turn around when I answered her. 'Who said I'm not scared?' Without waiting for a reply, I crossed the street.

I'd left the city before the sunrise, but even then, the black smoke followed me, casting a shadow more than ever.

~ ~ ~

In all my years that followed, I wasn't able to find a single thing about my curse. There were no books, no people who could give me clarity. I was left in the dark. Meanwhile, I travelled the world, in both space and time. I learned to paint, joined a ship during the spice trade, danced at the Venetian carnival, and got to know more people than I ever thought I would, but in the end it never mattered. When I woke up, they were gone.

I lived my life in pieces, every piece belonging to a different puzzle. And now, I could add one more.

In the pockets of my skirt, there was a small leather-bound notebook filled front to back with small scribbles and remarks about my curse. On the very last page, in elegant handwriting, fit for a monk, were written all the places I'd been. At the bottom, the ink had only just dried.

1813 Regency England

Another time, another piece, another life.