A Curse

A lone woman walks alone along the shore, her clothes whipping about her frame as a storm can be seen brewing on the horizon. She carries a small wooden box close to her chest as her eyes scan the blood-splattered sand. What she is looking for is uncertain, but once she finds it, she lets out a muffled sob of grief and collapses to her knees.

Reaching out a shaky hand, she collects what seems to be the remains of a child no older than eight or nine. There isn’t much left of the child, but by the cloth that still clings to the bone, she can tell that it is the one she seeks.

She says a small prayer. She gently places what she can in the box she carries. However, amongst that prayer is a curse that is putting into motion the revenge she seeks.

Standing, she quickly brushes the sand off of her long black dress and begins to make her way towards what looks to be a compound.

Once she arrives, she pulls out a set of metal cutters and begins to work the large chain that holds the doors to the building closed. Rust and shards of metal begin to fall to the earth as she continues her task despite the exhaustion she feels after the long journey she took to get to the island she is currently on.

Above, lightning flashes and thunder rumbles. A strong wind begins to whip around her, causing her black veil to press against her sweaty skin and stick. The ocean behind her begins to work itself into a frenzy and the sand that is picked up from the storm that is brewing around her stabs at her skin like tiny needles.

The curse has begun and the woman must get inside in order to complete it. This thought alone spurs her into action and gives her strength. With one last squeeze, she manages to snap the chains keeping her from her destination. Untwisting them from the handles of the door, she gives a tug, causing the hinges that haven't been used in years to creak loudly.

Stepping inside, the woman begins to look around. At first she seems to not be able to find what she is looking for, but after a minute she lets a triumphant smile spread across her lips. Moving once more, she makes her way to a room which is blocked by a door that is on its last leg.

Pressing her hand against the rotting wood, she pushes and watches as the door falls to the ground, causing dust and splinters to explode all around her.

Coughing, the woman waves away the disturbances and steps inside the room that seems to be an infirmary. Its walls are lined with shelves that contain herbs and medical supplies, and the desk that sits in the middle of it is covered in unfinished medical reports. But that isn’t the thing the woman is seeking. Instead, she is after what lies inside the drawers of the desk.

Using her still shaking hands, she begins to rummage through the files that line the drawer until she finds one file in particular. Lifting it, she quickly shuts the drawer and makes her way to a cabinet that sits along the right wall of the room. Inside the cabinet are DNA samples of every child that was ever sent to the island to either lose their lives or take the lives of many.

The woman begins to look through the samples until she finds the name she is looking for. She quickly shoves the sample into her pocket. She exits the infirmary and returns to the main alcove of the building, file in hand and DNA in pocket.

Outside, the storm that was picking up as the woman entered the building is in full swing, indicating that now is the perfect time for the ritual.

She sits all her supplies on the ground, cuts her palm, and begins to create a circle with it. She is careful to not let the hem of her skirt damage the circle as she turns windershins. Once she is complete, she pulls a single red candle and a pack of matches from her dress and sets it in the middle of the circle. 

Kneeling, she lights the candle while mumbling an odd language...

"Hecaten, cara dea, te appello. Adiuva me ad petendam vindictam in eum, qui a me omnia, quae a me abstulerit. "

She pulls a piece of cloth from one of the bones she has collected and burns it in the candle as she speaks.Once it is nothing more than ash, she digs into the sample bag she pocketed and produces a single strand of blonde hair.

"Tibi maledic ut omnia quae laesit videas," says the woman "In insaniam fac ruere, quomodo me ruere fecit." She continues while allowing the same flame that ate the cloth to greedily take in the hair. "In nomine tuo adoro et oro. Redde ei mercedem pro omnibus quae fecit. Solus ero satiatus mortua mortua."

Once the hair is completely gone, the woman bows and doesn’t move until the candle has completely burned out. Lifting her head, she gets to her feet and looks out the window towards the unforgiving ocean. It seems she will have to stay in this place for the night. Only when the storm has passed can she return to her tribe and report to the elders that her mission has been completed.

"Remember," she whispers, looking down at a roughly drawn portrait of the one she seeks revenge on. "What comes around goes around."

Letting a cackle of a laugh escape her, she throws the file she holds to the ground and begins to stomp the portrait of the small girl with bright blue eyes and whit-gold hair until it is shredded to bits by her boot.

"Enjoy what time you have left." She spat, lighting a match and throwing it on the now shredded paper in front of her. "Your days are numbered."