The Words From My Mouth Are Cursed Novels & Stories

She suddenly sneered making him tighten his grip over her jaw not liking the way she was disrespecting him. "I curse you." A mewled whisper erupted from her throat. The man who had her jaw held in a terrific grip suddenly gave her a twisted smile having no effect from her words. He found them absurd and full of stupidity. "I CURSE YOU! YOU AND YOUR FATHER WILL LOSE ALL YOUR HAPPINESS AND PEACE! IT'S A CURSE OF A DAUGHTER, YOU IMBECILE!" She cried loudly right on his face which did snatch his smile but something in him refused to accept the power behind her curse.

His throat bobbed hard as he swallowed, before he finally forced the words past his lips. “ They’re saying the Queen is… cursed. ”

If the Goddess heard you. If your heart was true. She closed her eyes and whispered. “I curse this day,” she said, voice steady, bitter. “Zara. Ethan. You broke me. You used me. Seven years of my life—I gave them, and you spit on it.” Her fingers tightened around the dirt. “May the child in her womb stay inside her for seven years. And when it is born, may it be cursed. May it never find love.” The words cut her mouth like glass, but she said them anyway.

The heavy weight of their eyes trailed after me as I moved towards the sanctuary of my father’s office. The familiar space was suffocating, the remnants of my past clinging like shadows. I braced myself against the mahogany table, the wood groaning under the pressure of my grip. My wolf, weakened and feeble, was buried under the weight of the curse, and as I pleaded for strength, the voices clawed, relentless and cruel, repeating their chilling refrain: *Touch them, end them, pass it on.* Each iteration fed the horrifying truth I tried so desperately to deny—that the curse sought to consume, to perpetuate its malevolence through me. But there was still resistance, a flicker of will that woul

The world crumbled beneath my feet. My mother's words echoed and re-echoed in the confines of my mind. It was like a haunting melody of despair, singing mocking tunes, teasing, and announcing to me that this was the part where my life got too awful to handle. A curse? My life was a consequence of a curse? I couldn't comprehend the gravity of it all. "What do you mean, a curse?" My voice was a mere whisper when it came out. It was a feeble attempt to grasp the monstrous truth.

“You stand before the council as both savior and question. You broke the fog, yet you wielded power not granted by any rite. Explain yourself.” I hesitated. The mark on my chest hummed faintly. I could hear whispers again soft, like the sea murmuring secrets behind the walls. “I don’t claim to understand what happened,” I said. “Only that it happened because I stood where others wouldn’t.” Some of them murmured disapproval. Others nodded slowly. I lifted my chin. “You call me cursed. Maybe I am. But if that curse keeps us alive, then let it speak.” The room fell still.

Why aren’t they working the way they are supposed to? I taste blood on my tongue from where I’ve been biting too hard in my lower lip. My magic power is running out. If I don’t want to resort to that, I need to finish this now! “Curse of poison. Curse of rot. Curse of internal bleeding. Curse of broken bones. Curse of pain…” I mutter so quickly under my breath that it becomes a reflex action. I keep going until I am sure he is dead then I stop.

Zu asche verfall’ diu swarze kraft, Zerstaubet al ir dunkeli saft. Mit reinen herzen, sêle klar, Ich bannen dich, sô was ez war. Translation: By moon and mark, by blood and flame, I call the fire, I speak the name. From prophet’s line and wolf’s own howl, I break the curse, undo the foul. By sacred bone and spirit thread, No shadow lives where light is spread. Ash to ash and night to dust, Return the dark to rot and rust. With heart made pure and soul alight,

Despite the pandemonium raging all around us, his thumb delicately stroked my bottom lip. He declared, "I love you." The curse then shrieked. Behind me, the shadows flared, creating a ragged figure—a twisted, toxic echo of my father's speech. It snarled in my thoughts, "You cannot destroy me." "My blood is in you. My curse. My throne. My power flared black and red as I yelled and pushed back. "I am completely different from you!" With dark claws reaching through my chest, the echo lunged. It appeared to pierce deeply, tugging at my strength, my heart, and my soul. Choking, I stumbled back.

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.