JC's Short Stories

Rosemary's Curse

A/N: Written 2/24/21.

She glanced out the windows of the old, rusty manor. There was darkness all around her, leaving the shadows grabbing at her shoes and the dark silhouettes creeped under her door complaining to each other and yelling about. Outside of the windows lay great, big world with many places to be ventured, though her parents would always fight about the single question of her ever leaving their grimy old manor. Her father, of course, despised the idea of someone else not being bound to his ancient family's house, though her mother always wanted her to go with her for at least one thing, which would usually be shopping. Of course, the girl loved to shop, wanting to buy everything in the world with all the money they had.

However, she could not, for a deal had been made. There was a sacred oath causing her to be bound to her family's manor, an ancient curse binding her to the place like the crusty pages in all of the library's books. Once upon a time, her father took her to the store. The only thing she could remember from that event was a pair of glowing violet eyes, which were most likely the reflection of the sunset over the bearer's soul.

Never, not once, had she mentioned this to her mother or father. The frail, petite little woman would dismiss the thought with a flick of her locks, going to do some other chore they always had. The pale, ghostly and translucent man would simply stare into her soul, frown, and ground her to her quarters for another week or two, depending on the tone she said it in.

She sighed, once again longing for the warmth of the sun and the soft of the grass. Yes, she could remember that clearly: the crisp air surrounding her, the flashes of cold breeze flying past her ears, the branches and twigs that fell into the tangled mess of her hair, the rain that made it frizz up and force her mother to redo it. She missed all of that, all of the feelings and sensations the real world brought her. All of the desires she felt, rather than to be staring at the deep, dark ocean under the moonlit sky.

The girl knew that she would be able to swim along the coastline or dig her feet into the sand very soon. It would be waiting for her, the big wide world, as soon as she turned thirteen. Yes, the warmth of the sun would be waiting for her until the springing fall, the day the sun met the moon of the thirteenth year of the second half of the scored century's end. Yes, she would finally meet the sun once again on the equinox of 2063.

She hated to bore herself with the details of this prophecy, but her parents began to fight about it once more. Their spats were random, silly things, usually about something that was no big of a deal, like this prophecy. Her mother complained for her to be let out of the house at least once, but her father complained that she was almost old enough already. She was twelve years old, waiting for the telephone to ring and distract them from such things.

"Rosemary!" Her mother shrilled.

The girl sighed, knowing what was going to come next. Her mother would summon her, bring her into the argument, then she would get yelled at by both of her parents while not being able to say anything back. She was tired of this, tired of all of this, but she did nothing to stop it. It was simply her life, the life of Rosemary Asrar. However, this would change soon. Everyone, including her, was destined to break from the shackles keeping them to their own people and homes, whether they tear them apart, moment by moment, or fuel them with such joy that it's a blessing to be bound to that place. For some people, their shackles were golden, shimmering bonds that kept them to a place they never wanted to leave, but for Rosemary, she was bound to a house she never wished to be a part of with the searing, black and gray bonds that whispered in her ears and slowly tore her apart by the moment, though figuratively and literally, which is why she despised the shadows.

Rosemary did not like the shadows. They were always forming beautiful yet mysterious entities, though unlike the clouds, they thrived off of darkness. See, the sun shone across the lands, lighting up the sea and making it shimmer gray, with specks of silver and forest green. The sun also showed the clouds in the sky so much easier, those beautiful yet simple shapes that truly held no resemblance to anything. She loved the sun, lighting up her world, but she hated the shadows, always calling for her. Whispering to her. Telling her what to do, who to call, and other advice she'd never follow, despite how true or useful it might have been. The shadows were what the sun couldn't reach, the crazy thoughts of her mind being sucked from herself and swallowed by them.

If she lived anywhere else, she doubted the shadows would be so monstrous or insane. If she had any other memories, any truly good memories, she doubted the shadows would be so... scary. She doubted that they would always listen to her father, the strange man that was more of a lost soul than a human. She doubted the shadows would be any more than a simple place void of light if she had lived another life.

However, she had not. She was Rosemary Asrar, and she knew not to be a single other soul.

"Rosemary! I've called for you!" Her mother screamed even louder, causing her father to begin arguing again. She should have relished the quiet while she had it, kept the thoughts that held her still rather than having her soul sucked away while her body stuck, in the manor, forever bound as a twelve-year-old Shadow Reaper. No, she would never become her father. Actually, she decided that she would escape her prison that very day, let it be for a minute or for eternity.

Somewhat determined, she quickly put on her dining dress (for it was near that time) and headed to the room where her parents stood, still fighting over her 'well-being'. Unbeknownst to them, their daughter was slowly fading, the shadows were bending to her, the family's heirloom that lay on her neck empowering them to change by her will. Her using the shadows took a great toll on her.

'Yes, master, we must kill them...' some whispered, slowly falling from her grasp and jumping at the Lord and Lady of Asrar.

'No, we have to touch their spirits...' the others did, which were few, still slipping from Rosemary's grasp. She herself didn't understand her powers, nor did she know she was using them. She was simply thinking of what she wanted to happen, and the shadows were listening.

'No! You shall help me escape!' Her soul haughtily whispered to the stubborn darkness as it curled at her parents' feet and slipped around their ankles. The Shadow Reapers were one as a whole, so they either always or never listened to her... and unfortunately, that time was one of the latter.

In a matter of moments, the simple argument that occurred nearly everyday turned into a murder scene. While both of the elder Asrars continued to bicker, their voices warped and fizzed into peculiar, garbled screams as their spirits begged to be reunited with their vessels. Their silvery, ghostly souls were torn from their bodies, leaving sanguine and orange scars all around their bodies as they fell to the floor. Rosemary watched, her voice no more, as her parents passed and morphed into Shadow Reapers. Her father's body, who was nearly a ghost already, simply shimmered into a gold-like mist. When the process was over, he looked like a ghost, his face blank and blurred as if he was simply something out of her imagination.

Her mother, who was as normal as a human could get, lay still. The welts from her awakening had disappeared, leaving a soft face with a simple smile on her lips. All traces of anger were gone, just leaving the plain country girl years before she met the love of her life.

Then, everything came down. The tears and emotions that had been bottled up spilled from Rosemary's eyes, her tears streaming down her face and her wails quieter than the whispers of her mother's soul, still trying to call for her. It was as if she was screaming, continually getting louder, but her voice was gone so she sounded as if her tongue was cut off. The shadows changed from a large blob to a humanoid creature, one who looked nearly identical to her mother as the silhouette appeared on the wall. This only got Rosemary to cry more, longer, and harder than she already had been, with nobody to comfort her, with nobody at all.

Somehow, the shadows still tried to speak to her. She couldn't tell if it was her mother, her once kind but broken soul, or her father, the only man who would ever understand a bit of the cruelty of the Asrian Curse. She couldn't decipher the difference between any of the other Shadow Reapers, female or male, young or old. It did not matter, for they were all trying to comfort her, even though they'd not a shred of remembrance in their minds. They knew their master was heart-broken, and they needed to stop her pain. It was spreading to them, racking through the whole of them like a predator scouring the land for its prey.

These shadows were not sympathetic creatures. They slowly crept into her mind, stealing all of the pain and emotions away from her for the time being, just for their own sakes.