Cursed Existence

An eerie apparition crept into my peripheral vision. My rigid shoulders settled with dread. I forced my back against the bed head, wielding my weighted blanket for protection. The darkness from outside seeped into my room through the sheer curtains. Without the usual sound of my parents arguing, the silence deafened me. I should've gone to that stupid family dinner.

I launched myself to the light switch. The ceiling cast protection upon the room; the shadows melted away along with my fear. I tiptoed through the house and lit it up like a sunny day, full of brightness and warmth.

As I returned to my room, my heart sank; the hallway was in blackness. My chest clenched, my extremities conjured deep prickles from within. The security I had felt; vanished. Little did I know, I wasn't alone. I sprinted into my parents' bedroom, locking the door behind me. I dug deep into my sweater pockets in a desperate attempt to call my mother; I felt the blood rush from my head. I'd left my phone charging on my bedside table. I wore the carpet down to the timber as I paced beside my parent's bed. I decided to release myself into the unknown. STOMP! STOMP! STOMP! Heavy boots came from upstairs. I suppressed a squeal as I bolted into my room, swatting the light back on as I reefed my phone from its life support. 1% battery slapped me across the face. I should've bought a new charger cord when I had the chance.

"C'mon, Mom... pick up!" Voicemail answered. My eyes welled with frustration as the screen went black. I charged outside, my bare feet slapped across the dewy lawn. I reached my mothers' pristine garden.

BANG! The same nightmare haunted me every year.

My eyes shot open, the smell of bacon ripped me from my sleep. I ventured into the kitchen, sun rays filtered through the Venetian blinds. Life seemed perfect until the landline pulled me back to reality. My father stepped into the room; his eyes were swollen. My eyebrows met my hairline.

"What happened to you!?"

My fathers' eyes darted to my mother as she waltzed in. Her gaze shifted from my father to me. She informed us my aunt was on the phone; she'd invited us to dinner tonight.

"Wait, didn't you go there for dinner last night?" I asked.

Their look of concern confirmed to me that last night was just a dream.

My mother ran a gentle hand over my head. The last thing I wanted was to be in this house alone. I begged to tag along.

"I think you should stay here," my mother squeezed my shoulder.

She left to gather a fresh bouquet of my favorite flowers from her peculiar garden, which was suddenly overgrown with every herb imaginable and integrated amongst strange flowers. It had been her private sanctuary for a few years and was entirely out of bounds.

I turned my attention back to my father; he longed out the window at my mother. Now was my chance to find out what happened to his face. I casually approached him, checking that my mother wasn't in-ears shot. I asked the burning question.

"Don't say anything," were the first words out of his mouth. I promised to stay quiet.

"You need to leave and stay away from your mother." urgency in his voice sent a tsunami of emotions through my mind.

"You want me to move out?"

"You can't stay forever; it's not healthy," he looked at me in desperation.

"No! I don't want to leave," I backed away from him.

"You're mother is going crazy."

I could tell my father was serious, but I didn't want to believe my mother was insane. Sure, I heard them argue every so often about me needing to leave home. Still, I never realized it was destroying their marriage.

"I don't believe you; you're lying," I shouted.

The backdoor crashed open. My father cowered from my mother's presence. I leaned into her as she pulled me in. How could he accuse her of something so horrible? I avoided eye contact with him. Mother led me into her room, patting the bed as she took a seat.

"What did your father say to make you so upset?"

I built up the courage to recap the conversation. My mother wrapped her arm around me and kissed my forehead. She strolled out and closed the door behind her. CRASH! THUMP! SLAM! My body jolted upright and began to tremble. What have I done? I shook violently, my stomach turned to knots, I wanted to throw up. Everything went quiet; my ear strained through the door; there was nothing I wanted more than to take it all back.

Suddenly the phantom from my dream drifted up beside me; a deep, masculine voice spoke its first word to me "Leave!" I shrieked as I bolted from the room and bee-lined toward the front door. I darted around the corner where my mother seized me. My arms and legs thrashed against her force as she dragged me to the basement. I screeched for help, but it was too late. She threw me into the darkness.

"You're not going anywhere."

I could feel my eyes peel open, the sound of heavy breathing moved toward me. My heart jumped to my throat.

"Don't worry, it's only me," my father shuffled closer, a lighter flame ignited in his hand. I began to apologize relentlessly.

"If you don't go now, your mother will only get worse." He grabbed my wrist and led me to an antique bookstand that held a torn, leather-bound book. The smell of musty herbs wafted past me as my father thumbed back and forth through the pages. Cabinets with potion bottles lined the walls, and symbols were painted around the room. "My parents are witches?"

"I'm just missing one last thing," my dad huffed as he tapped on the brittle page. "I have no idea where your mother has hidden it."

The haunting silhouette brushed against me with a ghostly moan, "The garden..." I shivered abruptly.

"Did you hear that?"

"No... What?" My father's brows furrowed.

I described the black silhouette to him and what it had said.

"The garden, of course. Why didn't you ever tell me about the dark presence before?"

"Mom told me never to tell you; otherwise, it'd break up our family."

He sighed deeply as he picked up my hands.

"By the sounds of it, it's here to guide you."

My pupils dilated. "Could I be a witch too?"

My father needed me to convince my mother to let me out. I followed his instruction.

"Mom! I know you're only trying to protect me. Can we just talk about this?"

I heard her slippers scuff toward the door. "You do understand that I'm only doing what's best for you?" her voice muffled through the door.

Something wasn't right in the pit of my stomach. The door creaked open slightly when my father barged past me aggressively. I stumbled into my mother as he moved through the house like a tornado; his heavy footsteps trudged outside into the garden. I decided to chase after him.

"Wait! Don't go in there!" my mother's voice chased after me.

I staggered onto the lawn, my mother hot on my heels. My mouth fell open as I reached my mother's garden; it was different. Flashbacks of my dream played out like a movie. It wasn't a dream; it was a memory. I now knew why my mother kept me locked inside for the last few years. The whole scene played out in slow motion as my father dug frantically through the soil. He located a little satin pouch of my baby teeth and lit it on fire. My face was still vacant in disbelief. The sound of my parents yelling faded slowly; I ripped my gaze toward a headstone; my name was on it. The sun grew dull with cloud cover, and the eerie silhouette could finally stop chasing me. It was time for my mother to be free of her suffering and let me go, for my father had burnt the last pieces of my physical body that held me here. I smiled at my parents as I took the hand of my reaper. Dad was right; it was time to leave home.