by E A Owen
XVIII
The Curse
I flew to South Dakota to help my grandmother pack up all her belongings to move to Virginia to be close to us. My grandmother picked me up at the airport in Sioux Falls, and on our ninety-minute drive back to her house we had an interesting conversation.
“Now I know why this family is cursed. Why bad things always seem to happen to us!” she exclaimed. “I was up late one night because I couldn’t sleep, which happens often when you suffer from chronic insomnia as I do. I was going through some old boxes of my parents’ belongings in the attic when I stumbled across an antique lock box. It looked like it had to be at least a hundred years old, if not more, and I had to break it open. I was quite nervous to look inside because just touching it gave me the most dreadful feeling that chilled me to the bone. But my curiosity would not let it be, even with the evil aura that seemed to protect it. I don’t know why I never tried opening it before because I’ve had it in my possession since my parents passed away. It’s been up in my attic since your grandfather, Elliott, and I moved into this house more than forty years ago, and I just forgot about it. After reading my mother’s diary years after she died, I found out the antique box was given to her by her grandmother, Margaret. My mother described Margaret as a very strange woman who gave her the creeps. It was in my mom’s possession since her grandmother passed away, but she never opened it.”
Mary squirmed uncomfortably in the driver’s seat. “She described the box as feeling wicked and possessed, and so she feared opening it. She said it gave her a gut-wrenching feeling. Margaret told my mother when she gave her the box that an angel would be born who was the only one who could break the curse that has been on this family for generations. My mom thought Margaret was delusional and she tried to bury the box far away from our family, but it mysteriously appeared back in the house only hours after she buried it. This completely freaked my mother out, and so she tried burning it in the fire pit at our house. But when the fire stopped smoldering several hours later, the box was not damaged. It was in perfect condition, untouched by the fire. This was the last entry in my mother’s diary.”
Mary wiped a tear, then turned from the highway onto a residential street. “Only a couple weeks after the incident, my parents were killed by a drunk driver, and I have always wondered if she was punished for trying to destroy the box.” Mary’s tone grew thick with resolve now. “If there is a curse on this family, and it sure seems to me that there is given all the death and suffering, and if the curse can be broken, I need to do something about it. I opened the box and there was a book inside, a diary, and in between the pages was a folded-up piece of paper. I unfolded the paper, but the note was in a different language and so I could not understand what it said. So I read the diary entry that the paper seemed to be inserted to mark. The diary belonged to my great grandmother, Margaret. The entry said, a crazy woman approached her on the street in London, dressed in all black, her face hidden by a hooded cloak. She stated in a stern voice, that Margaret would be punished for marrying Aaron Kosminski and that any child born of them, and all their descendants thereafter, would be tortured by a curse of torment. She claimed that an angel would be born into the family, and that angel, would be the only one that could break the curse. She handed her a folded piece of paper, turned and walked away, disappearing into the darkness. Margaret also claimed in the diary entry that the woman who approached her was also known for performing witchcraft in London.”
“Wow, Grandma. That’s really creepy!” I replied nervously.
“We are descendants of Aaron Kosminski!” Mary blurted out.
“Who is Aaron Kosminski? I’ve never heard of him before.”
“Have you heard of the notorious Jack the Ripper?” Mary asked.
“Yes, of course. Why?” I asked.
“Jack the Ripper was the name given to an unidentified serial killer in London during the late 19th century. He is believed to have killed five women. The legend of Jack the Ripper is one of the most enduring murder mysteries of all time—the real identity of the killer was never discovered. The gruesome nature of the murders terrified people. The police never found a definite clue leading to the identity of the murderer but managed to develop a list of suspects. The identity of the killer puzzled detectives for well over a century. Even though Jack the Ripper was never charged with the murders, many sources suggested that Jack the Ripper was a 23-year-old Polish immigrant named Aaron Kosminski. Aaron Kosminski is my great-great grandfather! We are descendants of Jack the Ripper!”
I just sat there froze, not knowing what to say. This was a lot of information to wrap my head around. I finally was able to speak. “Grandma, what are we going to do?” I said with fear in my tone.
“I sent the letter to an old friend of mine to be translated. I got it back in the mail this morning before I came to pick you up at the airport. Her letter is sitting unopened on the counter at my house. We will have to read it when we get back,” Mary said with a shaky voice.
When we got to Mary’s house, she opened the letter and read the translation out load: “Aaron Kosminski, a monster who has brutally mutilated many victims, was never punished for his crimes. So I am manifesting a curse on all his kinfolk for many generations to come to cause them harm, severe afflictions, sickness and even death so that some form of cosmic restitution for Kosminski’s victims can be achieved. The only way this curse can be broken is by an angel born unto this family by a miracle. This angel has to repeat this spell during a new moon at midnight while burning sage and the curse will be broken.” Mary continued, “In the names of my ancestors, my gods, and myself, I call upon thee, oh creatures of Earth and Water. Come forth, cleanse the descendants of Aaron Kosminski of all evil and magicks and restore us to balance and health. By our wills combined, so mote it be.”
“Grandma, who is this angel she is talking about?” I replied.
“She must be referring to my sister, Angel. My mother wasn’t supposed to have any more children, but by a miracle she got pregnant again. And my parents called her their Angel of Hope,” Mary replied.
“Where is Angel? Do you still talk to her? Please tell me she is still alive,” I asked with concern.
“Angel has been in the nursing home in Estelline for over a year now. I visit her twice a month. She was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. She still remembers me at least, but her condition is worsening,” Mary exclaimed.
“Can we visit her, to see if she will recite the spell so this curse can once and for all be broken and we can live out our lives in peace?” I pleaded.
“We are in luck. There is a new moon tomorrow evening, but unfortunately visiting hours are over at 9:00. The spell specifies it can only be recited at midnight for it to work.”
“We have to figure something out. We need this curse broken, Grandma.”
***
It was fifteen minutes before midnight when we arrived at the Estelline Nursing and Care Center. We had come to visit Angel earlier in the day and told her about the curse and all the findings we discovered. There was a thick blanket of fog this evening, making it hard to see as we snuck up to her window on the west side of the building and knocked lightly on the glass. It was no easy task, but we managed to get the aged Angel through the window, and then the three of us walked to a secluded area some distance from the facility and took out the sage and the spell to break the curse on this family. Mary lit the sage while we all held hands in a circle, and then Angel recited the spell:
“In the names of my ancestors, my gods, and myself, I call upon thee, oh creatures of Earth and Water. Come forth, cleanse the descendants of Aaron Kosminski of all evil and magicks, and restore us to balance and health. By our wills combined, so mote it be.”
As we stood there in silence waiting for something miraculous to happen, a huge gust of wind circled around us while we stood in the eye of it, leaves and dust whipping around us like a tornado. The wind slowly faded and then disappeared above us, leaving a cle
ar sky filled with thousands of bright stars dancing in the moonlight.
I felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted off my shoulders and was replaced with peace and harmony. The lessons in life may have tattooed my very soul, but I have learned to let go of what I cannot change by not letting pain hold me captive, to rise from the ashes of shattered dreams and to spread my wings in these bittersweet moments and fly against all odds.
