The Curse of Uelda Rizzano

“Oooh. That’s a lovely piece” said the eager salesman of a dilapidated antique store. We were looking at the upper portion of a large frame resting against a hutch. A few smaller frames were resting against the larger pieces. I moved the smaller pictures out of the way and retrieved a large, ornately designed frame. I turned the item around and saw that butcher paper was covering the picture.

“Is this real wood” I asked.

“Yes. It was made by craftsman who spent years learning how to work with their hands then put every ounce of effort into their work. They don’t make stuff like this anymore” finished the salesman.

“I agree” I said, a bit surprised that a thought spilled from my lips as I took in the hand carved wooden frame featuring vines that seem to wrap around the entire edge of the frame. Leaves, flowers, and the occasional cherub peaked around the bigger leaves. I blew the dust from one of the flowers and found carved, faded sunflower looking back. 

“I have never seen anything like this” I told the salesman.

He plastered on a smile and asked “will you make me an offer?”

I knew I was going to buy this piece, but I had to drive the price down. I picked up the hefty piece and brought it out to the light of the room and rested it against the cashier’s counter. “Why is there paper covering the picture?” I asked.

“It’s protecting the mirror” said the salesman whose face had been drained of all color. 

I began to remove the paper and saw my reflection through decades of dust and dirt. The salesman took refuge behind the counter and looked on wordlessly. Through the corner of my eye, I saw beads of sweat collecting on his brow. 

Once the paper was fully removed, I saw the mirror in its entirety. I could see the old world craftmanship in the frame. I then looked into my own eyes and saw the familiar dark figure envelope my reflection. The dark shadow had deep green eyes. I saw the silhouette of a Viking helmet and large heavy armor. The figure held a sword in one hand and a large circular shield in the other. The longer I looked, the more detailed the shadow became. In another second the figure became more visible and somehow became larger. I then noticed the figure was taking steps towards me. 

I blinked and looked at the salesman… who opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. His collar was wet with sweat. He stuttered a bit then asked “Will you be taking the mirror?”

“I don’t know” I said as my own voice cracked, the said “for some reason, I am terrified of this mirror” in a hushed tone. “Where did you get this thing?”

“I obtained this piece from an old caravan that had been parked in a barn.”

“Caravan” I asked. “Like a gypsy caravan?”

“No, more like a circus caravan from the 1800’s.” 

“What do you know about this mirror?”

“Have you heard of the Rizzano Brothers Circus” asked the salesman as he handed me the paper. “Will you cover that up please” pointing at the mirror.

“Sure” I said as I took the paper and looked at the salesmen expectantly. 

“Yes…The Rizzano Brothers Circus was a traveling show that started by two Italian cousins in South Carolina. They started small with a few animals, a few magicians, and some stationary sideshow displays. They hired a few conmen, a few civil war veterans with gruesome injuries and crazy person or two. The rotation changed every few months as they traveled around the east coast and the south. They met a fortune teller in Savana Georgia who practiced voodoo.

I raised my eyebrows jumping ahead to an obvious conclusion. But the salesman continued to his narrative as he retrieved large pieces of carboard from behind the counter and placed those pieces onto the empty counter.

“Will that be cash or charge” asked the salesman.

“Um..”

“Think about it while I prepare the mirror for travel. What kind of vehicle are you driving?”

“A 4Runner” I said without a thought.

“Good” he said as he came around the counter. He hoisted the mirror with some effort and placed it on the top piece of cardboard with a thump.

“The fortune teller was a nice lady with a mean streak and a long memory. She was born shortly after slavery ended but remembered every slave master that injured her mother and father. She joined the show which soon became a circus. Her clientele grew as freed slaves and their descendants told her of their troubles. She places curses on each person that harmed her clients and then helped the aggrieved party write a letter to the person who committed the crimes. The addressee was given an overview of the complainant and told about the curse that was placed on their heads. The women would place some black pepper, salt, dirt from outside of her tent as well as phosphorous power on the paper and in the envelope. 

When the person opened the letter, they would be greeted with a small amount of this mixture that may or may not have spilled onto their clothes as they opened the envelope.

“What happened to the people that opened the letter” I asked, now getting into the story.

“That depended on the person. Most people in those days were a bit superstitious and burned things of this nature. With the addition of the phosphorous, the flame would dance and change colors for a second. The curses were just words on the paper, unless you believed in that sort of thing. Those that believed, talked themselves into some such calamity. A few talked themselves into an early grave.”

“How much do I owe you” I asked.

“I’ll let this beauty go for a thousand.”

“What did you see when you looked into the mirror” I asked.

For the second time in fifteen minutes, the color drained from his features. 

“Scary huh” I said, then added “I’ll give you $500 cash and you never see this again” pointing at the mirror.

“Deal” said the salesman. “I didn’t catch your name… Mr.?”

“Tony Rizzano. Good to meet you” I said as I placed five $100-dollar bills on the counter. The salesmen scooped up the cash and hit the sale button on his old cash register. A cashdrawer shot out and he placed the bill under the change cups.

“Did I get it right” asked the salesman.

“What” I asked as I began to heft my purchase.

“The story… about the traveling Rizzano show.”

“You hit the high points. There was a little more bite to the spells my great grandmother cast. She placed a spell on this mirror. When you look into this mirror and you look into your own eyes, you see what you truly are. I am guessing that you don’t like what you see.”

“I am glad to see this artifact going to its proper place,” said the salesman.

“I’m sure you are. This mirror was always hung behind my great grandmother as she told people their fortunes. How you got the mirror is still a mystery to me but I will say this, if you were less than honest about how you procured my family’s property, be weary of how you spend those $500 dollars.” 

With that, I departed the store with my birthright in hand. I loaded the mirror into my car and began a 1000-mile drive home to Savana, Georgia.

I arrived two days later ready to get to work. I pulled into my studio located near the water’s edge near the downtown area. From the roof I can see the skyline and have a pretty good view water’s edge. 

I had prepared a place for the mirror but now thought better of it. I will re-make a small area on the east side of the main room on the second floor. I decided that I will hang the mirror in front of the window but will make the viewing area intimate enough for one person to stand in front of the mirror at a time. 

I moved my paintings around and found a place to build the viewing area and got to work. Once the mirror was hung, I used cans of compressed air to remove the surface dust and dirt. The cardboard had been removed by my contractors.  I then applied some wood cleaner and conditioner to the surface of the entire frame. It took a few hours but it looked great. I removed the paper from the reflective surface and saw a thick layer of dust evenly distributed along the surface. I used some damp paper towels to clean the surface until it was as reflective as an old mirror could be. 

I put everything down and looked at my reflection. I looked deep into my own eyes and saw the dark figure. He made the same movements he had a few days earlier. I smiled and he smiled back.  I broke eye contact and the shadowy figure went away. 

After cleaning up, I sat behind my computer and sent a few e-mails to some people that have earned the right to see my mirror. 

I packed up for the day and returned home. 

The next morning, I woke up, went to the gym and ordered a light breakfast. I entered my studio at 7:00 am and began making preparations for tomorrow evenings reveal.  

I swept the floors dusted the shelves and the frames hanging on the wall. After the chores, I returned to my desk and retrieved the letter my great grandmother had drafted to her unborn descendant. 

To you, my Grandchild, 

If you are reading this it’s because my time in this world is over and I am off to the next. Maybe one day you will catch up and find me and we can share stories of our lives. Until then, here is my story. I was born in the year 1866 to a former slave women name Uelda. I did not know my father. She always told me that he not very interesting so I never asked about him after the age of 10. I was born in South Carolina then moved to Savana, Georgia when I was 15. My mother began teaching me the arts of Obeah. My mother and a few of the resident practitioners said that I was a natural. By 17, I had met a man named Demitri Rizzano. We would eventually marry and would travel the south and the east coast entertaining people. 

           During the afternoons we would practice and work on new scenes and acts for our traveling show. At 6:30 pm it was always showtime. Your Grandfather always said that he wanted to interrupt people dinners so they would spend a penny for bread. A few years after we started, we rolling into Savana, Georgia when we were robbed by local outlaws. We looked for the sheriff but they were no help. For the first time since your Grandfather started the show, we were out of money. We had to sell the wagons to the very thieves that took all of our savings. If you ever find the people that possess my wagon, please do everything you can to get my mirror.

           It’s a special mirror that has been blessed with a spell that reveals the true nature of a man, so long as they stare at themselves in the eye but don’t look too long. The spirit that reveals you to yourself can escape, if you let him. Most can hold the stare. Those that can, have a choice; keep that spirit at bay, or release the spirit that will change to course of humanity.

I hope to meet you one day,

                                                                       Yours,

                                                                               Uelda Rizzano

I reread the letter, then returned it to the envelope. This was a copy of course; one he had transcribed onto yellow legal paper. The original was kept in a safe deposit box at the local bank. He left the studio for a light lunch then went home to change into eveningwear.  

That night I met an old woman wearing oversized cotton shirt and pants. “Do you want a coffee or other refreshment Ma’am” I asked.

“No, young man. Your coffee here is dirty water compared to the stuff we have at home” she replied in a heavy French accent.

“You may be pleasantly surprised” I said as I walked her to a small sitting area. My assistance presented a small espresso cup on a saucer plate. She placed a tray of containers filled with different kinds of sugars and two spoons.

“Well, if its’ already made, I can give it a try” she said as she picked up the spoon and scooped some brown sugar into her coffee. She put her spoon down and took a sip. It was hot but she only took a small amount into her mouth. She smiled and set her cup down. “That is not bad.”

“I’m glad you like it Ma’am” I said. We spent a few minutes getting to know each other and found that she had a lot of experience communing with spirits. “I spoke to my first spirit when I was 12 years old. He told me that I would bring light to those stuck in darkness” she said before continuing to discuss other spirits that touched her life.

Once her coffee had settled, I asked “Are you ready to see the mirror?”

“Yes, I am” she said as she rose.

As I walked her through my gallery, I pointed out different pictures and paintings. As we approached the stairs, she grabbed my arm. I helped her up the stairs then walked towards the mirror. I instructed “Place your feet on painted feet on the floor and your eyes should line up with the mirror.”

“Do I need a stool” she asked.

“No.”

“Okay then” she said as she released my arm and rounded the corner. “Oh wow” was all I heard, then silence, then “Oh wow” again a few seconds before she returned to my side. We returned to the sitting area on the first floor. We took our seats and found two fresh cups of coffee. 

My guest spoke first, “Do you know who the spirit that lives in your mirror?”

“No.”

“His name is Bon View. I did not know his name before tonight. His purpose is to reveal you to yourself.”

“How did he get stuck in the mirror” I asked.

“I asked him that very question. He said he wasn’t trapped; he was just waiting.”

“For what” I asked.

“He didn’t say” said my guest who thought for a moment. She then asked “what do you see when you look into your own eyes.

“I see a shadow.”

“Doing what” asked my guest.

“He is clad in amor and he walks towards me.”

“What is he wearing?”

“A Viking helmet, shiny armor and holds a sword and a shield.”

“What happens when he gets to you?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t looked at the mirror long enough to find out. What did you see?”

“I saw my home, but in another time where everything was green, the water flowed pure and the people didn’t fight.”

“He showed you heaven” I asked.

“In a way, yes.”

We sat still for a minute then the old women asked “are you going to free him.”

“The descendants of the people that killed my great grandmother are the mayor of this city and a congressman over this district” I said.

“I don’t know what that means” she said.

“They are men of power who have done nothing to break the chain of suffering as they selfishly line their pockets at the expense of others” I said.

“So, you’re going punish them by punishing others? If you let that spirit out, there is no telling who will get hurt” she said.

“You looked at the spirit and you didn’t get hurt” I said.

“Yes, but that’s me. He will expose bad people to themselves. They won’t be able to hide. People will suffer” she said.

“But they deserve it…because they are bad people” I thought but didn’t say.

I did admit that there was a lot to consider. We talked more about life and consequences before parting company after midnight.  I returned home to think things through.

The next morning, I woke up and returned to the gallery. I re-read the letter from my great grandmother and made my decision. I set the letter on my desk and made my way to the mirror.

I looked into my eyes and the shadow appeared. I asked “What are your intentions if I free you?”

“I am already free. I only needed your consent to show people their true nature” said the shadow as he walked towards me.

“You have it” I said as I maintained eye contact with the figure. “Open the window” ordered Bon View. Three seconds later he walked out of the mirror and climbed out the window. 

“I’ll see you soon” said Bon View as his form melted into the night.

The next morning, Bon View waited for the Mayor of Savana, Ted San Lucus to finish his shower in the man’s bathroom mirror. Ted shut off the water, toweled off and began applying shaving foam. He looked into his eyes and saw a shadow.  The shadow pulled a sword and pointed the blade at Ted. The shadow walked towards him extending his blade towards Ted’s chest. Ted felt the blade pierce his skin across his chest but could not look away. Tears spilled from his eyes and urine soaked the floor.

In an instant the shadow was gone. His reflection returned.  Blood trickled from cuts on his chest that formed the word “Thief.”