“Cursed” by Erik Östenberg is the 2nd place winner of the Monsters short story competition, organized by Cálice Magazine and SUM. Read the 1st and 3rd place stories here.
Alone, I enter—undergrowth brushing my legs and canopies far overhead, allowing only slivers of moonlight to pass through. Despite the eerie feeling in the chill air, I muster enough courage to set upon a crooked path. I get the feeling that the forest closes in on me, the trees judging the intrusion and the fauna quieting down, watching. The silence makes my spine tingle, the feeling slowly spreading, covering every inch of my skin, seeping into my flesh, and slowly clouding my senses. Yet, I continue.
When everyone else lost hope that he was coming home, I had to continue alone. My brother wasn’t the kind of boy to simply wander off. I’d practically raised him myself, and as a result, I knew every inch of his equally stubborn and thoughtful mind. Something had brought him into the woods—and something had refused to let him go.
With this in mind, I set one foot in front of the other; armed with a flashlight, and a youthful conviction not to give up. I continue calling his name until my voice grows hoarse. Hours go by without a response, but despite the silence and the cold, I don’t feel lost—it’s as if something inside me knows where I’m going.
Reaching the end of the animal-trodden path, I see a weak light flickering between the tree trunks. A light: ominous, terrifying, and inviting—all at the same time. It flickers like a candle in the wind, but as the carrier approaches, it grows bigger and brighter. I stand frozen, my voice catching in my throat.
Soon, I can see her; she looks like an elderly woman carrying a lantern, her face hidden behind a veil. By the way she flows towards me, unhindered through the underbrush, I finally accept it: She’s no human. Within the blink of an eye, she towers before me. I see antlers protruding on both sides of her head, her legs are bent backward like those of a goat, and what should have been her fingers are curled around the lantern’s handle, resembling spider legs: hairy, stick-thin, and long. Darkness covers her body like a cloak, but I see tufts of coarse black hair when the lamplight flickers across it.
I don’t draw breath; I can’t move. My heart pounds in my ears and something in the murky depths of my mind screams to run. I can’t tear my eyes away. Then, she speaks, in a voice that resembles the wind sweeping through dry leaves, brittle and cracking.
“You’ve come far” she whispers, her head tilting to one side. “What is it you seek?”
The spell breaks, and my voice returns “My brother,” I croak. “I’m looking for my brother.”
She nods, and at that moment, I can see eyes glowing faintly behind the veil, two stripes of yellow light burning through it. “Many come—few find what they seek... but I can help you.”
Was that a smile? I hesitate, a few heartbeats—that feel like an eternity—pass by, and finally, desperation pushes the words through my quivering lips. “Please,” I say, tears stinging my eyes. “I’ll do anything.”
Her head slowly tilts the other way, and a long, bony finger reaches up to lift the veil revealing a smile—too wide, with teeth sharp and glistening like those of a predator. When the veil finally reveals her eyes, I see two dark sockets with a fire burning inside them—pits of hell, where two lobes should be. She speaks then, in a new, terminal tone; the eye contact sealing some unholy agreement. “Good.”
I manage a nod, my heart sinking, but I can’t turn back now.
Finally letting go of the veil, she turns and without realizing it—I follow.
Her lantern casts strange, shifting shadows across the forest floor. We continue, cutting straight through the darkness and vegetation.
Without thinking, I find myself asking “Why do you carry the lantern?” My guide simply pauses, and for a moment, I am certain I have overstepped a line. Then, she speaks, in a softer voice this time, as if a sliver of humanity still remains deep within: “Once, I too was lost—searching for someone precious to me.”
In a whisper, I ask “Did you find who you were looking for?”
She laughs, a dry, hollow sound that sends shivers down my spine. “Yes,” she says simply. One simple word, which should mean hope—but which lends only despair.
We continue in silence until at last, she stops. “We’re here,” she whispers, and I see him, curled up between the roots of a great tree. He is pale, his eyes closed. I rush over.
“Please wake up, I found you!”
His eyes flutter open, and for a moment, I see recognition and relief. But then his gaze shifts and I see dread within his eyes. “No,” he whispers. “She’ll take you too.”
I turn, but my demonic guide isn’t there. All that remains is a faint echo of her voice, and I hear—or rather feel—the words: “Thank you.”
As I turn back to the spot where my brother lies, I see a faint light in my periphery and dread takes hold of me. I force myself to glance down and see that I hold the lantern now, its flickering glow reflecting in my eyes. No, not my eyes. I see yellow slits in the sooted glass and instinctively, I attempt to drop the lantern. It simply hangs in the air beside me, clinging to me by a chain of shadow. I feel my fingers elongate, dark hair pushing through my skin, merging with an arm I barely recognize.
Before transforming entirely, I carry my brother to the edge of the woods. I know I can’t return home with him. I know it’s too late for me as the lantern pulls me back into the dark of the forest, to a den in the damp earth.
The lantern guides me, just as I will guide lost souls through the dark; returning one, while claiming another—until the end of time. It is my curse.
Written by Erik Östenberg.
Cover illustration by Merle Emrich.