by Gemma Jace
THE
WICCAN’S
CURSE
GEMMA JACE
THE WICCAN’S CURSE
Copyright © 2021 by Gemma Jace
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the copyright owner except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Marble Fox Publishing
1985 Henderson Rd. Suite 1537
Columbus, Ohio 43220
www.marblefoxpublishing.com
Printed in the United States of America
Cover Design by Jesh Art Studio
ISBN 978-1-7364760-0-0
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
The Wiccan's Curse
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
To Josh, Shiloh, and Aaron
CHAPTER 1
THE GLASS SHATTERED against the wall, crashing and splintering into tiny weapons that sliced across the brown and white skin on Luna’s face. Beads of blood turned into trickles that slid down to her chin before dripping onto the floor. Yells and screams followed as her mother stomped through the house swearing and cursing the day she had given birth to a cursed child.
This was a typical day in the cottage she shared with her mother. Things were good when her father was still alive. Mother was happier then, though not at all really happy. She hated that they had to give up their home in the grand town of Hawthorn to move to the tiny village of Green Brook when Luna started showing signs of the cursed skin at five years old. That was ten years ago, and her mother still hadn’t taken to living a simple life of tending a fruit orchard in the country.
Her mother only stopped her ranting when she noticed what she had done to her daughter’s face. She snatched up a tea towel from the round wooden mahogany table and chucked it at Luna, hitting her in the chest. Luna fumbled at the towel, pressing it against her cheek.
“Go clean yourself up!” Her mother yelled. Her brown eyes were glassy and narrow, and her light brown skin was flushed, making her appear more like a brown devil than a human being.
Luna climbed the narrow wooden stairs to her bedroom. As she sat down on her white twin bed, she noticed the red stains on the once clean blue shirt and pants. She went to the white porcelain sink that stood in the corner of the tiny white room and wet the towel in her hand.
Looking in the mirror, she assessed the damage to her face. Three lines of red scratched across the demarcation line between the brown and white on her face. She stared, wondering why this curse had come upon her. All her skin was golden brown, except the skin on the front of her face, which had turned white, as if she were wearing a mask. The pigment had faded on the tip of her nose when she was five years old, creeping outward until it had covered the entire front of her face in an almost perfect oval. It affected even her eyebrows and eyelashes. Only her almond-shaped eyes kept their chestnut brown hue.
People in their village had always complimented on how pretty she was, but what did they know? They were cursed too. Some of them had speckles of white, and some of them had spots of white, and some of them had almost turned completely white, with just a patch of brown skin here and there. The village shouldn’t be called Green Brook— it should be called White Brook.
She changed into a pair of black jeans she had worn the day before and a clean black tank top to go into the orchard with before school; that way, no one would notice if she had gotten dirty. Pulling her jet-black curls into a ponytail, tiny pieces of glass scratched at her fingers. She didn’t care. She wanted to leave the house as soon as she could before another glass cup hit its target... her face.
Luna grabbed her bleached leather bookbag and scurried down the stairs and out the small wooden door before her mother could say or do anything else to her. The woman had been the worst person Luna had known ever since her father died.
She knew her mother blamed her. She would often say if it weren’t for her and her cursed skin, her father would have never forced them to move there and he would still be alive.
Luna thought about that day in the orchard often. Father had enlisted some boys from town to help him cut down two dead lemon trees to use the wood for furniture to sell. The boys were doing a great job that day, that is, until she came into the orchard to help. One of the boys had a crush on Luna and couldn’t keep his eyes off of her, so much so that when the other two boys sawed the tree to the point of falling, he didn’t see, nor did he hear them shouting. Her father, being the hero he was, ran and pushed the boy out of the way. The tree fell on him, breaking his ribs and gouging a gash on his side that spanned from his armpit to his hipbone. The town doctor did all that he could for her father, but he never recovered from his injuries. He died one month later from what the doctor called sepsis.
Her mother had told her not to go to the orchard that day, but she had gone anyway. Why didn’t she listen to her mother that day?
Tears welled in her eyes as she meandered through the trees, smelling the sweet citrus fragrance in the warm morning breeze. Normally, the walk would boost her spirits, but not today; not when the morning had led her to think of the worst day of her life. She stopped and sat down among the fallen fruit under a bushy full orange tree and allowed the tears to flow, stinging her wounds with a salty cleansing, raining to the ground, never to be thought of again.
Once her tears dried up, Luna decided to pick some of the bright orange fruit to eat for later. With all the commotion her mother made, she didn’t get a chance to eat breakfast. She clambered into the tree, reaching for the biggest oranges she saw. She picked two heavy ones and dropped them to the ground, aiming for her open bookbag, but miserably failing.
There was one further up that had a shape like two oranges had merged into one. She would pick that one for River, her best friend. He loved the way the strange-shaped fruit looked and had convinced himself they tasted even sweeter. Grabbing onto a limb above her head, she pulled herself up, putting all her weight on the thick limb beside her. She reached up and grabbed the funny-shaped orange.
She dropped the fruit into her bookbag and began the climb down when a loud cracking sound pierced through the air. The limb she stood on broke from the trunk, sending her tumbling through foliage and branches to land in the dirt below. She screamed. A cloud of dust surrounded her as leaves and oranges pelted her on her head and body.
She pulled herself up from the ground and brushed her dusty black clothing off. Could this day get any worse?
“What is that?” She asked herself out loud. She kneeled where the thick broken limb laid and pulled out a leather-bound book lodged inside of its hollow barrel. It was a thick book with an ornate silver medallion attached to the dark brown leather. The pages on the inside were an antique-weathered cream color, sort of like the ones you would see in the basement of an old church.
“How in the world did this get inside of the tree?”
She sat back down and opened the book. Inside, she found writings that looked like recipes. No, not recipes, but more like ingredien
ts for concoctions to cure certain ailments. She flipped through the pages. There were cures for respiratory infections, one for warts, even one for how to cure a bald spot. She giggled, thinking about how her father could have used that particular concoction. Some ingredients she had heard of, like sunflower oil and cattail seeds, but most were things that she had never heard of before.
She flipped through a few more pages. A cure for Hog Pox. A cure for broken bones. A cure for red eyes.
“Cure for curses?” She lingered on the page, reading the words again. “A cure for curses.”
“Luna!” Her mother screamed. She was in a right foul mood that morning. There was no way Luna was going to answer her.
She slammed the book shut and stuffed it in her bag, along with the fallen oranges, and hurried off to school.
CHAPTER 2
IN THE MIDDLE OF THE golden wheat field sat the red barn that the kids of the town used as their schoolhouse. Freshly painted only a week ago, the barn stood out against the wheat like a ruby amongst the sand. Standing outside of the door was River, dark and handsome. He must have been waiting for her. His clothes were different that day. He didn’t have on his overalls he normally wore to school, but instead sported a pair of dark blue denim pants with a button up denim shirt to match with brown leather boots. His mahogany skin glistened in the sun as beads of sweat rolled down his brow. He had cut his once long brown curly hair above his small ears, which helped accentuate the way they slightly stuck out from his head.
He eventually noticed her wading through the thigh-high grain and waved. She waved back, jogging the rest of the way to him.
His bright smile faded when she got close enough for him to see her face. “What happened?” His eyes narrowed as he put his hand to her face. She winced. “Your mom did this. Last week she gave you a busted lip. What did she do to you this time?”
She shrugged, “Why are you dressed up?” she asked, changing the subject. She didn’t want to explain how her mother had harmed her, yet again. She just wanted to enjoy the company of her best friend.
His eyes lingered a while longer, prodding her to answer; but he soon realized there would be no answer. He shrugged, “I’m leaving today.” He shoved his hands into his pockets.
Luna’s eyes bulged. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You’re leaving?” she whispered.
She always knew this day would come. River had been one of the lucky children born without the curse. His skin was dark, smooth, and even. Most non-cursed children would leave the village shortly after their sixteenth birthday to go find a normal life in another town. But River was still fifteen. She thought she had another year to be with him. The answer to the question she asked herself became apparent... Yes, the day could get worse, and it did.
“Why are you leaving so soon?”
“My uncle sent for me. Grandma just got the letter yesterday evening. He’s sailing to the Eastern Islands and he wants me to come live with him to attend school there. His ship leaves in four days and it takes three days to get to Coastal City in the Eastern Lands by train. So, I have to leave today to make sure I get there in time.” He dug his right hand a little deeper into his pocket and pulled out a small rectangular shaped piece of paper. “That’s why I’m here.” He put it in her hand, “I want you to come with me.”
The paper was a train ticket. She looked from the ticket to River’s smiling face. “Did your uncle send two tickets?”
“Nope. I bought it with the money I saved up from working on old man Joe’s farm. I don’t want to leave you here alone.”
She wanted nothing better than to go home, pack her bags, and tell her mother to go jump in a lake, but she couldn’t. She hadn’t left Green Brook since the day she moved there, and the thought of leaving was terrifying. Her mother always told her there was no place for her kind outside of town, and she believed her.
“There is no place for people like me in the regular world,” she said as she looked back down at the ticket with a sigh.
“That’s not true. Your place is with me, and my place is out there somewhere.” He looked to the horizon. His charcoal eyes were full of hope and wonder. She envied him for the freedom he possessed.
She was silent. All she ever wanted was to be free of her two-toned skin and leave Green Brook.
“Why not free yourself?” he shrugged.
Luna gazed at him. Had he been able to tell what she was thinking?
“What?”
“Free yourself from this place and all the bad things about it. Forget what people think and get on the train with me.” His smile radiated like the sun gleaming on porcelain pearls.
She didn’t know how to respond to what he said. How could she ever be free of this place? How could she forget what people thought about her? Surly people would never let her forget what she was.
The school door swung open, spilling out a dozen small children running and laughing with their teacher following close behind.
Glad for the interruption, Luna again changed the subject, “Let’s spend the day together.”
She would be with him until he boarded the train. After that, she would never see him again.
They went to the lake to sit under their favorite oak tree to shade themselves from the blazing Southerland sun. Luna had learned her lesson long ago about staying too long in the direct sunlight when her white face blistered and peeled, causing her excruciating pain. She couldn’t imagine being one of the cursed with mostly white skin living in such a hot climate.
Luna opened her bag and gave River the unique orange she picked for him.
“Wow, this is a great one!” He rolled the fruit around between his hands before putting it to his nose and breathing in the fragrance deeply. “I’m really going to miss these oranges.”
“I hope you really like that one. I fell out of the tree trying to reach it.”
River giggled.
“That reminds me. Look at what I found in one of the trees,” She pulled the book out of her bag.
“Someone put that book up in a tree? It would have gotten ruined the next time it rained. How dumb,” he said as he started peeling the orange.
“No. It was literally inside the tree. I found it when the limb I was climbing on broke off.”
“That’s odd it would be inside of an orange tree.” Juice squirted as River took a bite of the orange.
“What do you mean, ‘odd to be inside of an orange tree’? Isn’t it odd that it’s inside of any tree?”
“Grandma used to tell me about wiccans who would hide their spell books inside of old oak trees.” He shoved the rest of the orange into his mouth and wiped his juice-soaked hands on his trousers. “She was usually drunk when she told me stuff like that.”
“Wiccans? Are they even real?” she questioned looking down at the book.
River shrugged, “I think they lived a long time ago.”
A long time ago? How long is a long time ago? How old was that orange tree? There was really no way for her to tell. That part of the orchard was already there when her family bought the cottage and the surrounding land. Perhaps Grandma Tilly would know how long the orchard had been there; and more importantly, who used to live there. She needed answers about the book, and now she knew exactly where to get them.
“Do you think Grandma Tilly could tell us something about this book?” she asked.
“Not sure... but you can certainly ask her about it.” He stood up and continued, “Let’s go now. You can help me finish packing. Then I can help you pack.” He winked and grinned at her.
She smiled at him, putting the book back inside the bag. She would wait until later to tell him she had already decided not to leave Green Brook. She couldn’t bear to see that beautiful smile leave his face... not yet. She wanted a few more moments of his happy-go-lucky spirit. She wanted that gleam in his dark eyes to last for the rest of the day. She wanted to be in his presence, just as he was, for as long as she could.
He took her
bookbag and put it on his back. Standing, she looped her arm in his as they strolled through emerald grassy fields to River’s house. Sugary fragrant yellow buttercups freckled the dark green grass as though lighting their way as they went.
Luna and River approached his quaint two-story gray stone cottage surrounded by dozens of red and white rose bushes. Bumblebees circled lazily as if intoxicated by the sweet thick fragrance that filled the air. They walked the uneven stone path that led to the custard yellow door with its round tarnished silver knob in the middle. Their footsteps crunched as they stepped on shattered terracotta shingles that had fallen from the steep pointy roof. River pushed open the creaky door, releasing a whiff of freshly baked blackberry cobbler Grandma Tilly was just then setting on the windowsill to cool.
Grandma Tilly smiled and motioned for them to come into the kitchen. Her frail dark brown hands shook as she attempted to brush off flour from the yellow apron she wore over her light blue dress.
“Hello, my dear,” Grandma Tilly said to Luna, giving her a tight squeeze with a grip stronger than any eighty-year-old woman’s should be. She didn’t look her age either. It always amazed Luna how smooth her face was and how her full straight white hair always looked so glossy. Perhaps it was because she didn’t have the curse. All other old folks around town had the cursed skin and always looked much older than they were.
“Hi Grandma Tilly,” Luna took a seat at the round oak wood table after being released from Tilly’s vice grip.
River took a seat beside her while Grandma Tilly went to the short mint green refrigerator and took out a glass pitcher of lemonade and poured two glasses full before setting it down on the table. She gave the cold beverages to them both before sitting down. Luna compared the color of the lemonade to the color on the walls, as she had done many times before. This batch was darker. Grandma Tilly had sweetened it with molasses, making the liquid a deep brownish yellow.
“Luna wants to ask you something,” River blurted out, not even taking the time to have a sip of his drink first. Luna scowled at him, shaking her head. He didn’t seem to care to notice her disapproval of his tactlessness.
