When You Wish Upon A Curse

2 - The Thorn

2 – The Thorn

“For the millionth time, yes I am certain. You’re the witch – aren’t you supposed to be the one wanting to enact curses and such vile spells?”

                The woman sighed, the wrinkles etched in her forehead so heavy and folded they seemed to connect with her cheekbones. Why wasn’t she giving in?

                She spoke slowly with her lips sucked in like the old hag she was, “I’be neber sheen anyone sho eager-”

“Because you’re blind.”

                “-to casht a curshe, an ebitable sheeping curshe, on themshelbes. It can’t be broken, dear.”

                I stopped pacing about the tiny hearth. “Except by true love’s kiss.”

                The little cottage – or should I say shack – was smaller than my bathroom. The crackling fire provided no warmth whatsoever. As for the furniture…just a tiny empty table, a chair too small to support the witch’s enormity, and a little cupboard with a mountain of piled up disorganized knick-knacks. I simply did not understand how she could live life to a bare minimum.

                The witch, just a fat old woman really with most of her teeth missing, sighed some more then continued to speak, chewing on her words, spit flying all over. “Why do you need iht? A noble qhuest?”

                I growled. “You are in no place to have that kind of knowledge.”

                “Ah you chying t’ shave your kingdom, Aurora?”

                I clicked my tongue, “First of all, it’s Erica. Stop calling me that. And secondly, no. I’m not ‘shaving’ my kingdom. I’m just trying to meet my one true love-” I bit my lip. I had to learn how to hold my tongue.

                “An’ how ish a sheeping cursh going to help chu a-hieve ‘hat?”

                “Why ever should I confide in you?” I crossed my arms.

                The witch’s lips contorted into an ugly frown, then she stood up from the chair with a creak. I watched as she made her way so slowly towards the cabinet fixated on the wall, the floorboard squealing in distress with her every step. It was like trying to watch every second of the sun’s journey across the horizon – that was how slow. She started to feel for whatever she was looking for in the messy surface, slowly, her hands hovering in slow motion. Her pace irritated me to the point where I would shove her aside and look through the cabinet myself. Finally, after long, agonizing hours (or minutes, there wasn’t much difference) of waiting, she turned around holding something in her aged hands.

                “Dear, magic alwaysh comsh wif a prysh.”

I blinked rapidly after a salivated sprinkle landed on my eye. “Yes, yes, I am well aware. A price I am willing to pay.” Revolting old woman.

She muttered incomprehensible words under her breath. “Tis’ a shorn from an enchanted rosebush. I want chu to-”

                “Prick my finger on it?”

                “-shwallow it.”

                “I beg your pardon, how gruesome! You can’t be serious.”

                “Curshes aren’t meant to be pleashant, dear.” I didn’t know people were capable of voicing such disgust in their tone. Especially when they couldn’t even pronounce the words correctly.

                I contemplated for a second, then decided for it. “Very well then.” I picked up the single barb and inspected it. Very sharp indeed. “How much for the thorn?”

                She waved me off like an aggravating bee then slowly, slowly proceeded to sit in her chair again. “I’ll joo it fwee of charge. Your motha was sho kind to me; she was sho grasheful, sho elegant. Are you shure yo’ Elizabeth’s daughter?”

                I glared at her. “Of course I am. Are you insulting me?”    

                “I jon’t shee the reshemblance.”

                “Need I remind you that your eyesight is practically negligable-”

                And she vanished.

                Everything disappeared before I had time to blink. The little cottage, the witch, everything. I blinked rapidly to adjust to the sudden darkness. I was standing in the heart of the forest again, alone under the pale moonlight with my lamp and my hood, with nothing around me but trees, trees, and more looming trees.

                But now it mattered not where the hag went, for I got what I came for. I cautiously put the thorn in my pocket and patted it, feeling the little bump. I smiled, put on my hood, and began my walk back home. I would be back before sunrise, before anyone in the palace would notice my absence. Back before anyone could force me to marry that prince, because I would already be fast asleep, waiting for my prince, the prince I loved, to wake me. It put a smile on my face just thinking of it. 279 years of sleep shouldn’t feel so long, should it?

                I’m coming, Phillip. I trudged on through the woods, my lamp barely providing the illumination necessary. Finally, we shall be able to truly see each other.

---

Vote and comment and tell me what you think! Thank you so much for reading :)