Day 60 Writing Short Stories

Cursed

God doesn’t grace these lands. He never has. He took one look at us and thought it was better to abandon our kind. So I have never been bothered with God and his like. He can, as far as I know, go and fuck himself. Who I trust is myself, and I will continue trusting myself as long as I survive this one.

I’m good at pissing people off. Have always been. My sinful mother thought so, even before I could speak. She said I was a waste of a good soul. At least I have one, unlike her.

She is now buried six feet under. I dug her grave myself. That was the least I could do for a woman who gave me life and taught me not to trust anyone, not even her. I buried her with a curse. Most likely, she is haunting the pitiful mount her to eternity, cursing my name until someone deems she has suffered enough. I won’t be the one to release her.

But about pissing people off, I stole something from the wrong person. I stole their soul, and now the greatest necromancer of all time is after me with his minions. I will not return what I stole. Not in a million years. I need it. With it, I will become the hexer I deserve to be. I just have to hide for a while until the dust settles, and my ex-boyfriend finds that living without a soul makes his job a lot easier.

Thus, I have chosen the most rural town I could find, and I’m lying low, but my hexes are tugging me, telling me that something is sleeping under the quiet land; something powerful and evil, and I’m curious enough to go poking around. I have the feeling that it might make me want to believe in God for my soul’s sake. But souls are cheap, and I use them as a currency; mine too. I have pawned it countless times, not to be spooked by a dormant evil.

The townies don’t enjoy answering my questions. They become mute and walk away when I ask the wrong questions, but secrets are easy to obtain. The hushed rumors led me to the underground crypt, and I can feel the evil. It’s begging me to come forth. I and my hexes are ready, so is my stolen soul.

I smile. I’m made for danger. I’m made for death.

—

Ha, I enjoyed writing this one. I wasn’t sure where it was going, but I figured it out. I like the tone and the hexer; what I wonder about is the passive voice and telling. Maybe I should have gone with an active voice and showing. I’m not sure if changing the tone to show would have made the mood as right as it feels now. Okay, the whole story couldn’t be done in tell; it wouldn’t work, but I think it works for setting up the narrative. I would have to switch it to show if the story continued.

What I got today was a voice-driven fantasy quest written in first-person. I wasn’t sure at first what the story should be, but, as with so many of my short ones, once the first sentence comes, I have a story to pursue.

Thank you for reading! Have a day of stories ❤