The Curse on Eris

Nalsy was slowly walking down the street, looking at the maple leaves that were dressing the pavement. Sun was glimmering through the empty spaces of the tree crowns, gently warming her face.

She wore plain clothes: a burgundy jumper that matched the red maple leaves, black leggings, grey boots, and a brown leather satchel bag across her body.

Her blonde hair cascaded onto her shoulder, shining like gold in the sunlight. She worked long shifts during the day, so her skin was close to alabaster, but a warm breeze turned her cheeks rosy pink.

Days like this were her favourite. Even tiredness couldn't get in the way of her enjoying herself. She was quick to dismiss any reminders of her work as she didn't want to ruin her mood for the rest of the weekend.

She stepped onto a driveway and lazily walked up to the door of a beautiful house decorated by someone with a good style - her mum. As she walked in, she was welcomed by complete silence, indicating that no one else was back home yet. If her mum were back, she'd be clattering in the kitchen baking something exquisite, and if her dad were around, he'd be blasting some music, or TV would be on.

But this was as silent as their house ever got. Nalsy liked it; it gave her space to do what she enjoyed and listen to what she liked without any interruption. And sometimes, she enjoyed this silence as it was, listening out to all the creaking and squeaking of the house as if it was talking to her.

She started climbing up the wooden stairs without a second thought, already thinking about what she should do when she got to her room. Ideally, she would work on her assignment, but as it was Friday afternoon after a long overtime shift, which she did to cover for her friend, she felt like she deserved some time for herself. With a smile creeping onto her face, she decided that she would work on a new sketch, trying to determine her inspiration or subject.

She had very vivid dreams recently, and she saw people that she never saw before in real life. They were so realistic that she often woke up confused. She was questioning herself and wondering if she actually saw them somewhere and just forgot about it, as she felt that her brain couldn't come up with something as vibrant and distinctive on its own. Over the past few weeks, the dreams were more frequent, and Nalsy started to draw the people she saw in them. She decided to continue in her last sketch, which still didn't represent the man she saw in enough depth. No matter how much she tried, she couldn't express his piercing eyes on paper. She sighed as she reached the top of the stairs, with the hazy memory of the man popping in her head.

Just then, she noticed that her parent's bedroom door was ajar, which was unusual. She stopped in place, feeling uneasy. This was enough to trigger her anxiety and make her feel uneasy. Her heart started racing, and intrusive thoughts began. Nalsy tried her hardest to disregard them, a task ever so unachievable when you feel the oncoming panic attack.

As she took a step forward, she could see into her parents' bedroom. All her parent's belongings were spread across the floor, the desk and chest of drawers were turned upside down, and pieces of broken furniture were scattered around.

Nalsy hesitated, and with her heart palpitating, she pushed a door open.

The deep red stain on the carpet caught her attention straight away.

Nalsy opened the door wider and took a step inside the bedroom, following the stain trail with her gaze.

Her eyes landed on a shoe, her mother's shoe, without its owner. Her mother would have never been reckless enough to leave her belongings in any other place than the designated spot she probably agonised over for days. All of her shoes belonged on the shelf at the bottom of her wardrobe.

Nalsy heard her heartbeat in her ears, as loud as if it was the beating of a drum, deafening in the quietude of the room. 

She gulped as she tried to stop her throat from closing up, trying to breathe; she tried to fight against her chest, which felt as if it was collapsing and imploding.

Her limbs became heavy, almost impossible to move.

With effort, she took another step.

Nalsy's worst fear became a reality as she laid her eyes on the body that laid behind the bed, covered in blood and unrecognisable. A lifeless sack of bones and flesh. A poor representation of who her mother was, twisted and battered.

Behind the body of her mother was her father, not any less massacred than his wife.

Nalsy stood frozen, her head reverting to blankness and her stomach turning and twisting; it was nauseating.

She started to quiver. Her body felt as if it was ripped into shreds. 

Even the voice of a male echoing from downstairs couldn't bring her back but barely reached her through the invisible wall.

She covered her face, trying to push the image of her dead parents out of her mind, but the harder she tried, the more it harrowed in her head, now more vivid and more deeply ingrained and haunting than if she opened her eyes.

Nalsy didn't even notice a man walk into the room, and even if she did, she probably still wouldn't care at this moment. Why would she?

"How did you sneak in here?" The man hissed at her as he pulled her head back by her hair and placed a cold blade against her neck. Nalsy opened her eyes, her gaze fixating on the window. Sunlight bending into the rainbow and reflecting off the ornamental vase her mum placed on the windowsill. Sheer curtains gently flowed with the breeze that found its way through an open window. Birds were happily singing outside, and some children were heard playing in the distance, all unaware of a tragedy contained in this single room. Nalsy looked at the blue sky and trees; if she could, she'd want this view to be the last thing she saw.

However, Nalsy was hardly aware of what was happening, feeling her cheeks burning up.

"Is there anyone else?" Man asked.

Nalsy shook her head as far as she could with the man's firm grip. "No." She said in a weak whisper.

The man put pressure on the blade, and Nalsy accepted the inevitable as she felt the stinging of her cut flesh. She didn't even flinch.