Cursed Things To Say Novels & Stories

From that moment on, it existed only but has not truly lived at all. * * * Somewhere in the vast intricate surfaces of creation, particularly in a huge prison cell of unruly criminals and hapless mortals, a cursed boy swore with such an artistic tongue for profanity. "I told you not to do it, old man! DAMN YOU!"

His words were provocative. Alana. A young girl chuckled, her expression unfriendly. She was probably my age. “She’s a bringer of curses.” “Yes, that's what I mean,” added Paul. “I think so,’ Maya also spoke up. “No doubt about it,” Gerald agreed. A curse? How dare they say that about me? Their hurtful words made my chest feel tight. I would mark Paul, Gerald, Alana, and Maya as people to avoid and be wary of. The frightened voices supporting the idea of a curse increasingly dominated the room. Finally, Leon broke the commotion again. “Enough.”

That we do stupid things in the presence of each other. "Do you still believe that we are cursed by gypsies? I do not believe that we are. I believe that we ought to be silly in each other's presence. I believe that we. Can't do better. By believing in our love for each other. We can do much better than this. I believe that we are so crazy in love with each other that we just do stupid things in the presence of each other, and we have to stop believing in curses and stupid things like that. My mother says that we have to stop believing in the negativity because then we will always draw negativity towards us," I say.

With a swift, deliberate motion, I spat directly onto his face, the act a visceral declaration of my disgust and loathing. "Screw you, Lucien,” I snarled, venom dripping from my voice. “I loathe you.” His eyes widened in shock, but his furrowed brows betrayed a flicker of concern. “I hate you so much, I wish the curse consumes you, that you suffer a death so agonizing, so merciless, that nothing – not gods, not magic, not even the most powerful witch– can save you,” I spat, tears streaming down my face as I hurled the words at him like daggers. “May the moon goddess herself forsake you, may your death be a slow, torturous march into eternal darkness, and may the curse be your eternal shroud.

Braylon’s pride was beginning to get hurt, he was resisting the curse words that were about to pile up inside him. Grandma Aubrey could hear him if he had cursed in his mind and that would only make things get worse. Imogen on the other side was smirking and ready to see his pride get hurt. She was waiting for him to say the word and use it against him till her time in the mansion elapses.

I'm at the supermarket when an old woman I don't know suddenly grips my hand tightly. I instinctively shield my baby bump, but she says, "Someone has placed a swap spell on you. The dead baby is about to be transferred to your body soon." I think she's a liar, but she says, "Hurry up and try to make yourself vomit. You should try to throw up as much of that fish you just ate as you can."

"FUCK YOU! YOU PIECE OF SHIT! DAMN YOU! YOU’RE SUCH AN ASSHOLE! BLOODY MORON! I hope you burn in hell..." And much more. In one breath, Zoe unleashed a torrent of curses that had been held back for years.

“How is it being disrespectful if I’m pointing out the truth?” Seriously? How thick-headed is this guy? I glare up at Alex, but he doesn’t even seem to understand that I’m mad. He just keeps studying my face with that questioning look on his own, and I growl. “You’re such a...” I don’t dare to call him an idiot, so I shyly mumble, “Pain in the butt..” Alex snorts. “Is that the best curse you got?” “Ape.” “Really?” he challenges with a smirk. “Didn’t the werewolves teach you how to cuss?”

I said. "Tha...tha...that's not t-t-true," Mom stuttered while I flicked at her bean. "Bullshit," I growled. The Pastor's eyes bounced between the action in Mom's groin and the devilish look in my eyes. "Be that as it may, son, the bible tells us in Deuteronomy 27:20 that 'cursed is anyone who has sexual intercourse with his father's wife.' Son, I, uh, don't want you to be cursed."

“Do you have any fucking idea what you’re doing?” His eyes widen slightly at hearing me curse, and I confess that this brings a wry laugh that I can’t help, as well as the many others that slide across my tongue — “Oh, yes, I can swear... Fuck, shit, dick, cock, pussy! Are you satisfied, you asshole? I can expand my vocabulary and get really creative if you want!” “Stop saying things like that, it’s not like you-” “It is! It’s like me, Eric... You don’t know anything about me! And apparently, I don’t know about you since you’re a motherfucker and your mother’s a cunt-”