The CurseA Story by Dankison TwrilsA short story of a boy in a city where nothing livesThe Curse
What
has become the city. The
boy stumbled across the deserted street, the pavement crying beneath his feet.
He hasn’t eaten for the passed few days, and his mind was filled with primitive
thoughts of finding food… or anything edible. Rotten bodies rowed in the
darkest corners of the sidewalks, and the city that had been so enchanting now
was silent, dead. The air was heavy with dust and blood and the blinding sun
shown no warmth. As
he passed by every store, he remembered how it was, how alive it was,
with people’s laughing traveled out by the opened doors. As he passed by the Three
brother’s he paused even more, wimping for the olders days where he and his
family sit upon the Old Dumpley’s chair, laughing at how the Old Dumpley dig
his boogers and enjoying a classic Old Dumpley’s bacon and beans. Wimping for
the days where his biggest worries were not having enough money to buy a
chocolate sundae at the Lina and Dairy Ice Cream Shop. What
has become the city. He
knew it, he knew the chief should have let that Gypsy’s son go when that Gypsy
warned him of a curse. Moreover, he knew that the Gypsy would put the curse
anyway, whether he had his son or not. They
hated us, and we hated them. But we lost, hard. The
iconic penguin from Johnson Toys mocked silently at him with his big,
idiotic joyful smile as he stopped by it. Its eyes were watching him, and it
was happy. It was happy to see the kid that had bullied him, that had taken him
as a target suffer. It was happy to see this whole town ruined. See,
this is what end’s like, shallow boy who put stick in my mouth every Friday
morning. This is what you get for being mean to the good old Gypses.
Suffer...suffer... “Shut
up, you f*****g pig” he cursed loudly as he took a crooked branch from a nearby
tree. With a broken grin, he stuffed its tip through the slight opening between
its upper lips and its tongue. “There you go. F**k your mouth with this. That’s
what you get for f*****g with me. That’s what you get, you montherfucker” So
what? What can you change? What HAS changed? Your family’s still dead, and you
are dying too. You know that. You are desperate, and… A
hammer smashed into the penguin, breaking the twisted smile into crumbles of
pieces “I
said shut up.” Giving
it satisfied look, the boy returned the hammer into his backpack and said in a
chilly voice “I
don’t care. They died for a reason, and I’m alive for another one. So, keep you
penguin mouth shut or the next time it won’t be this easy.” Kicking
the penguin one last time, he left. It was almost noon and he still had a lot
to do. He had to find food before dark. His baby must not be hungry. Strangely,
as the boy’s mope silhouette disappeared, the crushed head of the penguin began
to move. The fallen pieces replaced itself as the final clues of a puzzle and
slowly, the penguin regained its past glory. And
this has been going on, for years, and years, and years. © 2017 Dankison TwrilsAuthor's Note
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Added on November 5, 2017 Last Updated on November 5, 2017 Tags: horror, weird, twisted, sad, supernatural AuthorDankison TwrilsMontréal, Québec, CanadaAboutpassionate hobby writer love short and twisted stories love to get feedback more..Writing
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