Ellendale’s curse

I wonder how much of the unseen people who believe in God are willing to acknowledge. I have seen people draw a line, when their belief in things they grew up on, change even the slightest. Some believe in angels but not goblins, souls but not ghosts, gods but not goddesses. However, that’s different in children. You see, their little observant minds are always ready to tackle the incomprehensible and level-headedly face the unseen. 

“Mommy. Why is there a gap on your right breast?”

My curious five-year-old daughter asked an innocent question, one that pertained to her mother’s anatomy. As obvious as a missing limb would be, the nursing appendage her 2-year-old little brother, John, fed on was noticeably missing its pair.

“Jenna, do you know about tooth fairies?”.

“They are fairies who take our teeth and gift us coins instead”.

“How smart!”, I patted my precious’ head and whispered, “I had a similar transaction. Although I gave away my breast instead”.

“How many coins did she give you?” she jumped excitedly.

Widening my arms far apart in the air, “Enough to fill a treasure box this big!”, with Jenna jumping and mimicking my arms.

Little did the girl know, the receiver was not a fairy.

When the darkness spewed, and the moon hid half beneath the clouds, a ghoulish two-horned beast crept into her mother’s unlit room, lurking within the shadows. It never showed its face, always hidden with only its 10 feet tall silhouette making its appearance.

The beast hissed, “I’m here to claim what you owe”.

“Take it”, I remained bold, “my left breast for my son’s life”.

It lifted its gnarly claw and twisted it in the air, a tinge of moonlight slightly shone on its reptile-like fingers.

I looked at my chest, the clothing on my breast slowly levelled to my tummy, and a black mist flowed from my body and seeped into its index finger.

“Both your breasts are mine now. When your womb bears the next child, I will return on the second year after its first breath.” It sneered, “Either for its life or your heart”.

That wasn’t right. Mother said we could choose what we forfeit. A part of our body for our child’s life, that was the curse borne by the Ellendale daughters.

The beast turned away, like it did the last time, which meant it was going to vanish. I quickly asked, “Could I give you a limb or an eye instead?”

It turned an inch of its face, “I don’t decide the rules”. It left me wondering who decided it then.

The beast vaporized leaving no traces of its ghastly figure, as if it was only a nightmare. But the proof was true enough. It stole my womanhood, a price I paid duly for a curse whose veracity I wasn’t even sure of.

The first I heard of this curse was as a bedtime story. Before I learned about menses, I was told about the price I had to pay to become a mother. When the curse began; the first fathers knew, the second did not. Thereafter, it became a wife’s tale whispered in the corners.

Only one woman in a generation carried the ill-fate. And after she died, the curse would search for Ellendale’s eldest daughter of closest kin.

Over a period, bits and pieces of the tale crumbled, forgotten. In the narrative, the vicious beast demanded a part of Ellendale’s body if she were to save her son. She pondered; a hand too obvious, a leg would leave her crippled. An ear would impair her singing. An eye would shatter her world. Her breast however, she could live without.

I did not believe the old folk tale, until the beast appeared on the second day of the second year Jenna was born.

As it stood in front of me in my dark room, I remembered every word of the curse I was told, and it was clear what I had to sacrifice. Like Aunt Ruth, mother’s older sister who had two sons, I was to give the beast my breast for my daughter’s life. And I would give anything to make sure that heartless beast had no excuse to touch a hair on my child.

Hiding this from my catholic husband, Richard, was tricky. I told him it was cancer. And he prayed for me, as the good soul he is. But telling the devout Richard the truth wouldn’t help me, rather would merit a psychiatric visit at the most. Before my son’s birth, I told my doctor I needed my tubes cut, no kids in my agenda no more. In this Christian clinic, which was linked to Richard’s family, I needed his consent. But I knew very well he wouldn’t agree. Richard always wanted a big family, and a curse was no excuse.

I remember when we first dated, during the sweet age of seventeen. We were lying under the shade of a large tree in the neighborhood park, where kids were running around, and parents stood guard.

We shared this dream in sweet whispers; a big house with a bountiful orchard and ten children of our own. I know ten was a bit far-fetched, but we were young, and I was ready to fulfill our dream. That was until the curse claimed its first guerdon.  

I peeked under the dress, feeling my flat chest that once nurtured both my children. But the grief I felt was immediately replaced by the thought of making dinner. And Richard would be home soon. I head to my drawer where I kept my breast pads, the ones that mastectomy patients used and fit them in my bra filling the vacant space. And now I would have to lie again, that cancer took my second breast too. Richard was no fool, but he wouldn’t expect me to fib about my health especially when it was evident.

Months later, while I was reading my magazine overlooking the kids playing in the backyard, Richard came up to me.

 “Autumn. I have seen you so strong, so brave. Even while you were sick you took care of the kids without a hint of weariness. Darling, you are my sunshine, my pillar, and I don’t want anything to happen to you. With your health my top priority, I was thinking. Why don’t we consider adoption?”

I hadn’t considered adopting. I loved being a mother, but as harsh as it sounds raising kids was not easy. It’s not more the merrier, but rather more the messier. I am a stay-at-home wife; it was simple for Richard as he knew nothing of the reality of bringing them up.

Nevertheless, I loved that idea. Thank heavens Richard thought of it. Now I wouldn’t have to worry about the curse, and he gets to fulfill the family he envisioned of having.

Richard massaged my neck. He did that since he heard me complaining about my stiff neck. “Jonas from church told me about the orphanage ‘Little Angels’. They were collecting donations, and he told me the location. What do you say, shall we check it out?”

I kissed Richard, “Yes darling. Let’s do that”.

In the weekend, a 3-hour journey later, Richard and I arrived. A middle-aged nun welcomed us, guiding us through a passage to an energetic dining room. The children sat down with empty plates, chattering while waiting for their breakfast.

Ahem. Another older nun cleared her throat and said, “Children, let us say our prayers. Bow your heads, fold your hands and close your eyes”.

While she recited, I noticed various reactions among children. Some were attentive, some fiddled with their fingers, or looked at each other through the corner of their eyes. It made me giggle.

One especially caught my eye, a girl about Jenna’s age, she formed a fist and brought it to her chest. I realized she only had her right hand.

After the prayers, we observed what came after. Food was served. The children sang rhymes and played games. But my eyes followed one girl.

“What’s her name?” I asked the nun.

“Oh, she’s Julie. Such a sweet soul. Poor girl lost her arm in the accident two years ago that killed her entire family”.

I looked at Richard, and I knew she was coming home.

The procedures took time. But during that, we got to know Julie. The 6-year-old was elated. She loved to dance and play with remote controlled cars. She spoke about her family; her parents and her two younger brothers. She believed her family in heaven brought us to her. I could not hold back my tears.

Soon Jenna got to meet her older sister. I was relieved they liked eachother and they got right to play time. I could see them growing up as best friends, being there for one another.

And at last. After the long tedious adoption processes, we could bring our Angel home the day after tomorrow. Julie, Jenna, and John. From now on the five of us would do everything as a family.

Richard and I were lying down on bed, his arms wrapped around my shoulders.

I whispered, “I’ll go shopping tomorrow for more toys. Do you think she’ll like the bed I chose? Or should I have let her choose when she came home?”

Richard smiled, “Honey, she’ll love whatever you buy for her”.

“I want her to be happy. And feel loved, equally”, I added.

I looked at Richard’s eyes. It slowly contorted, along with his face. His black crew-cut grew longer into brown frizzy hair and his face turned into someone else, a horrendous looking old woman.

“Happy! Love! You ignorant Ellendale”, she screamed.

I jumped, quickly backing to the wall. The woman floated up in the air.

“I will pluck every child from the bosom of Ellendale’s daughter. And I will wring out every giggle and replace them with tears and sorrow”.

I trembled. “I gave you, my breasts. I gave you what you wanted!”

Her face twisted into an evil grin, “And now you will again, for Julie”.

The beast said if I gave birth to a child it would come for it. Why Julie?

“Julie is not from my womb. The beast said, if the child comes out my womb, he would…”

She cut me off, “I make the rules!” her voice thundered, it shook every nerve and melted any courage I had.

“I, Saden, will decide your fate.”

“Take my eye. Hand. Leg. Anything!”

She laughed. “Your heart for her life”. Saying, she vanished.

“Wait!” I said out loud.

“Mm… what?” Richard mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

It was a dream. A nightmare. “Ah, nothing”, I told Richard, and he went back to sleep.

This horrible lady was somehow connected to the curse, she was probably the one who inflicted it, and now she’s out for blood. I was determined. I’ll put an end to this wretched curse. Push comes to shove; I will gladly give up my life. I wouldn’t let anybody touch my children, ethereal being or not.

When I was a kid, mother sweetly hummed this rhyme in a catchy tune along with the bedtime story.

    ‘Old or young, you women of Ellendale, will weep for a loss, your body, or your children saved.’

And I out of habit hummed along.

Immediately, I got out of bed and rushed to the attic.

Aunt Ruth died of a disease when I was fifteen so I couldn’t consult her. I asked mother for information the first time I met the beast, and I realized how little we knew of this curse. Its origin, its clause; we women knew nothing.    

The beast was her lackey. That much I understood.

I opened a box, it was full of my old books, photographs, and various odd things. I shuffled, searching for the letter Aunt Ruth handed to me as she told, “Open it when the time’s right”. The time was right, three years ago, at beast’s first appearance. However, back then the letter completely slipped my mind.

It read, 'I tried. You reading this means I did not make it. Go to Ellendale Memorial Library and pick the last book under my name.'

Sunlight shone through the curtains. I quickly changed out of my pajamas, texted Richard I was heading out to the toy shop early and drove to Ellendale Memorial Library. The Ellendale’s were a prestigious family, with acclaimed wealth and fame that was known to most. And the library was just one of its charities.

By the time I reached, it was open but empty. I head to the reception and present my family’s card. “Please pass the register”.

I quickly flipped the pages and traced to Ruth Marwen Ellendale. The Ellendale’s kept their family name along with their husband’s names. I found the last book she checked—A winter’s ode.

Grabbing the book off the shelf, I noticed its brown cover was shabby. It seemed centuries old. I prayed, please let this show me the answers I needed. The scent of earthy murky pages wafted, and the pages were filled with letters and symbols I was unfamiliar with.

I became frustrated. I don’t know the deadline like I did with John. Julie is 6 years old, and the ball was rolling in that horrid woman’s court.

Almost at the end of the book a paper was left folded in between the pages. Five unfamiliar letters were translated – S A D E N.

A sentence followed.

‘Witch Saden cursed Ellendale in revenge against Martha Ellendale’.

Revenge?! That was unexpected.

There was a date and a cutout. 1826. Fire at Saden House kills 3 children.

I gasped.

If this was true. If Martha were somehow connected to this appalling incident, how would I make up for the death of three children?

Tears welled up.

Her children died.

I can now understand her rage, enough to ruin generations to come. I would be no different.

As the truth sunk in harder, I was conscious of how much of a fool I was. Me, a mere mortal against a powerful witch who cursed daughters throughout generations?!

I looked closer at the cutout. There was a black and white picture of a burnt house and in small letters, an address. I gathered everything on the table and set out to my destination.  

The Saden House was a cottage situated just a kilometer away from Ellendale’s old mansion. The cottage was rebuilt, stone walled, with wines growing over and surrounding the yard.

Martha’s sin sunk its teeth deeper into my soul. I was ready to give up my life. At the same time, I feared for my daughters.

This doesn’t end with me. And nor will it end with my daughters.

I could hear giggles from behind the house. I walked closer following the sound, and on the patio was a white round table with chuckling little children seated around, three in number.

“We were waiting for you”.

“We knew you’d come”.

“Mother said you’ll bring spring”.

The children chimed.

A voice, lady-like, spoke from behind, “Hello Autumn”.

I turned and saw a woman who looked to be in her 30’s, clothed in a black Victorian dress and a black hat. She walked up to me and showed me to a seat on the table.

She smiled. I knew she was Saden.

“I’m so sorry”, I cried. Trying to wipe my tears and convey my apology sincerely, “I can’t imagine the pain and anger you endured. For what my ancestor did to you, to these beautiful children. I .. I..”

A hand softly wiped my tears. I saw the two-horned brown beast crouching on the ground. Its face innocent like a child, and it smiled like an angel.

“Don’t cry, you’re okay. We forgive Martha. We all know how naughty she was”.

Saden spoke, her voice softer than the one in my dream. “Thank you for apologizing. Thank you for feeling my pain, and shedding tears for us. With all your contributions throughout these generations I was able to create three bodies for my children. From now on, Ellendale daughters are freed of their curse.”

My eyes widened. I clasped my mouth. Here I was ready to give up my life. But Saden showed Mercy.

The beast separated back to the three little children.

“Thank you!”, I cried. But this time they were tears of relief.

Saden started pouring tea. The table was empty a second ago, now it was filled with tea and snacks. A question lingered in my head, why did she stop the curse now?

A gentle and sophisticated smile painted Saden’s face. “All Ellendale’s daughters knew were to whine or abide by the curse. In the 1800's, people despised me and my family. Little Martha locked my children in my supply room as a joke, and while leaving my house tripped over the candle. That prank of hers killed my children. Out of shame and guilt, the first daughters spoke less of the curse's origins and verity. And out of those that came later, only few set out to seek the truth. But no one empathized with the witch who cursed their Family”.

I picked up the white porcelain and sipped the warm liquid.

“Will you bring spring?” a child asked, wonder filled his big blue eyes.

I blinked. Three more until the fog in my eyes cleared. I was in the driver’s seat. I got out; the cottage was right in front of me exactly as I saw it. Their giggles were crystal clear in my memories. I walked to the patio. The table wasn’t there. No children. Nor was Saden.

A large tree stood next to the fence and beautiful pinkish-white flowers filled its branches.

And I knew, it was Spring.