31 Days of Halloween

Cursed

Something was wrong, really wrong. Anthony glanced down at his hands, the pain burned through both of them, his bones ached. Stretching his fingers, he tried to ease the intense pain which had settled into his knuckles. Remembering as a kid his mother always telling him to stop cracking his fingers, it would cause arthritis, but never thought it would come on all at once. This morning when he got out of bed, he could barely move. Arms, legs, hands, every joint felt as if it would break. He couldn't worry about it this morning, with so much to do before the wedding tomorrow, his day was dedicated preparations.

"Hey Elle, where do you want these flowers? The delivery guy left them here by the door," he yelled at his sister.

"Put those in the refrigerator out in the garage. They need to stay cool so they don't wilt today," she returned.

Elle Masters, Anthony's younger sister was marrying her high school sweetheart. Always the perfectionist, this was no different. Almost militant in her demands, the closer the day drew near, the worse she became. Anthony knew this weekend would be a trying one, but loved her and promised he would do his best to help out.

Carrying the four massive bouquet displays to the garage, he shook his head when he realized his nose was shoved deep into one of the large flower heads, inhaling. Even more perplexing, he could distinguish all of the smells – the bees, the chemicals, a dog. What on earth are you doing? Placing the vases in the refrigerator, he looked at them and tilted his head. Well, that was bizarre, he thought to himself.

Making it through the rest of the day, Anthony began to feel sick. The achy joints from earlier had only increased and had spread to his muscles. He knew from experience he was, unfortunately, coming down with the flu.

"Anthony, please hold on and make it through tomorrow night," Elle pleaded with him.

"I will, Elle. Just going to lay down for the evening and rest. I think there's some medicine in the bathroom. I'll try that. Hopefully, it's only a twenty-four-hour bug."

Grabbing the medicine out of the cabinet, Anthony glanced in the mirror. Dude, what the hell, you just shaved this morning! He didn't have a five o'clock shadow, he had the whole five o'clock. Splashing water on his face to cool down, he dried off, drank what was left of the liquid medicine and went to bed.

Falling asleep right away, he was overcome with vivid, horrible dreams. All he could remember was blood. A lot of blood. Waking up in a pool of sweat, Anthony knew he had a fever. Probably the reason he felt so bad. Getting through the wedding would be the most important thing he could ever do for his sister, he had to fill in for their dad. Crawling from his bed, he tried to make it back to the bathroom. He needed a thermometer and something to bring down the fever.

What is wrong with you?

A fever of one hundred and three, not good. Sweat poured from his skin, and that damn hair, he had to shave now, if he waited until morning, he wouldn't be able to get a razor through it. At twenty-seven years old he didn't want to stand in the bathroom and cry, but that was almost the point he had reached. The pain overtaking all of his sensibilities, combined with the fever, and whatever the hell was wrong with his facial hair. Sleep, he needed sleep but knew a warm shower might help him feel better. Turning the water on, he stood beneath the flow. Leaning his head back and opening his mouth, the water trickled in. It felt good against his sandpaper dry tongue. After a few moments, he reluctantly pulled himself from the water. He had to get back in bed. Swallowing the pills to lower his temperature, he sauntered off back to his room. With his temperature somewhat moderated by the shower, he quickly succumbed to sleep.