Author's note: My friend and I love writing, and have been working on a book together for the past nine months... Show full author's note »
AnatoliaI could tell this human was male, from the deep masculinity of his voice. I obviously can’t see him, but from the feel that I have always had, I could tell that he was about six feet tall, skinny in a muscular sort of way, and had brown hair and grey eyes. Almost like Lario. Don’t ask me how I know. The feel just, sort of, whispers it to me. I don’t know how it’s possible, but it is.
I’m going crazy inside my head. How could he possibly hear and see me? No one can. No one’s ever
Emmaline, the, or, evil witch, cursed me so that I would live forever, but be stuck in these woods for all time. America was just discovered by a man named Christopher Columbus, and Emmaline thought it would be perfect for me to suffer here, around nobody, for the rest of my eternity. When I was first cursed, the only foliage in these parts was a couple shrubs, and this willow tree. It was old even back then. She killed my family and brought me here from Sicily, Italy. She thought that changing my environment drastically would make me even more miserable. I think that she thought that since America was such a crazy idea, that nothing would ever come to be here.
She was wrong. About 100 years later, the town of Hallow Falls was established. Of course, it was originally called Halloi Falls, but they changed it so it was easier to say, I think. But, whatever. It’s not like that matters now. The name is long forgotten. By everyone but me. I remember everything that ever happened in this area, partially from overhearing strangers and partially from the whisper. I don’t know how I remember everything. In my head, everything I’ve ever heard, seen, or felt is a jumbled memory that I can pull out anytime I want and examine, like a piece of clothing pulled out from a closet. Sometimes, though, it hurts my head, and it feels like the rows and rows of memories are going to completely overload my mind. Those days, I curl up at the foot of the willow tree and clutch my head and just cry. Thankfully, it doesn’t happen all that often, so I’m spared the brain-splitting pain of the crowded space I call my head. Although if I look on a memory for too long, or even just think about a memory too long, it’s like I’m being sucked into the past, I pass out, revisit the memory, unable to move or speak, and after I’ll wake up with another headache.
I try not to think about my memories too much.
I can sense the boy staring at me. He must be so confused. Or think me crazy, at the very least. I’m still in shock he can hear me. And see me. Because……..when Emmaline cursed me……. she said………
No, no, no! No! Not again! Not that memory- the equinox isn’t for another month-
I look up at Emmaline’s face, twisted with malice. How could she be so full of hate? I didn’t do anything wrong- it’s not my fault that I fell in love with her ex-fiancé. My dress torn and bloodied, she reaches down to touch the hem.
“Tale un bel vestito. E 'un peccato che devi indossare il vestito da sposa mentre si guarda mi uccidi la tua famiglia. Non sarai mai in grado di usarlo: è possibile osservare come I-Lario uccidere il traditore. Era mio, e mi ha lasciato per voi. Me-per voi. Patetico marmocchio.” She hissed at me. Such a pretty dress. It's a shame you have to wear your wedding dress while you watch me kill your family. You'll never be able to use it- You can watch as I kill Lario- the betrayer. He was mine, and he left me for you. Me- for you. Pathetic little brat.
Her words were scathing, and I knew
she was telling the truth. She was going to kill my family, and she was going to make me watch her. She grinned evilly and I knew she would do anything to make me suffer. She blamed me wholly for Lario leaving her- even though he left her eight months before he met me. Why? Why did she have to make me suffer the consequences for something I didn’t do? Was that just the way the world was going to work right now?
I’m powerless. Weak. I can’t do anything to stop her. There were rumors among the city of witch craft. Of someone who could do impossible things, create unimaginable things. I didn’t believe it. But all along, it was her- she was the witch. Plotting her revenge against me and Lario and everyone that I love. She was going to use her magic to wreak chaos.
With a flick of her hand, I’m thrown from the ground and I hit my head on a tree behind me. Another twist of her hand, and I am secured against it. I can’t move. She closes her eyes, and chants something. A bloodied and filthy Lario suddenly appears in front of us.
Ebony hair, bright olive eyes, tall, muscular frame, Lario is the gorgeous man he always is. But he seems broken. Less assured. Less confident. It’s not right. It’s not the real him. I cry out, and Lario lifts his head.
“Anatolia,” he says weakly. Emmaline scowls, and looks at him. A bright smear of blood paints his right cheekbone, his nose broken, his face bruised. Poor Lario- my love, bested beyond recognition. In my head, I apologize for anything that is about to happen to him, and I feel such deep sorrow within me, like an endless deep blue wave that crash’s down on the ones you love. I know that he is about to die. And knowing this, I want to die myself.
He can’t die. Will the world have any meaning? Will the sun still shine? Will the birds still chirp, and will I be happy? No. If Lario dies, my soul dies with him. And to live without a soul- is living another’s life.
“Uccidetemi, invece. Non male-Lario ha fatto nulla di sbagliato! Tu sei il male, ecco perché se ne andò. Devi solo te stesso da biasimare. Ed è per questo offro la mia vita al posto di suo.” I offer to Emmaline. Kill me instead. Don’t harm Lario- he has done nothing wrong! You are evil, that’s why he left. You only have yourself to blame. Which is why I’m offering my life in place of his.
Emmaline looks at me in disbelief. And then her face darkens and she hisses.
“Mai. Lei morirà tutto. Lentamente e- attende. Effettivamente, non lei. Ucciderò tuttavia Lario e la sua famiglia, ma lei- lei soffrirà anche più di nessuno potrebbe immaginare forse. E poiché è detto, sarà fatto. L'Anatolia, la figlia di Floria e Marco, può lei è maledetto per tutta di eternità. Lei non sarà sentito e lei non sarà visto. Lei sarà un essere maledetto, acceca e disperato. La partirò in una terra distante lontano, lontano, da cui lei non potrà mai partire. Lei non invecchierà mai, dunque poiché la sua mente frana e scompare, il suo essere fisico sarà ciò di un mortale di un-maturare. Ogni equinozio primaverile la visiterò ed accorda su lei la tortura del tipo peggiore- una ripetizione del passato, dunque lei vedrà le morti della sua famiglia di nuovo, e lei non può cambiare una cosa, poiché è con la natura del passato.”
Never. You shall all die. Slowly and painf- wait. Actually, no. Not you. I’ll still kill Lario and your family, but you- you are going to suffer even more than anyone could possibly imagine. And as it is said, it shall be done.
Anatolia, daughter of Flora and Marco, may you be cursed for all of eternity. You shall not be heard, and you shall not be seen. You will be an accursed being, blind and hopeless. I shall leave you in a distant land far, far away, from which you will never be able to leave. You shall never age, so as your mind crumbles and fades away, your physical being will be that of an un-matured mortal. Every spring equinox I will visit you, and bestow upon you torture of the worst kind- a replay of the past, so you shall see the deaths of your family again, and you cannot change a thing, as is with the nature of the past.
I feel a dead weight in my stomach, and my insides curl. Lario looks at the tree I am pinned to in alarm.
“Anatolia? Anatolia? Bella sorpresa sei?” he cries out. Anatolia? Anatolia? Where are you?
With a sickening realization, I can see that Emmaline’s curse is already working. Lario can’t see me. He can’t hear me.
Emmaline cackles, obviously enjoying every second of my distress.
I close my eyes to fight back tears, but when I open them again, I see nothing but black.