Short Story - Death blog - Arcones

The sun had not yet set, but pretty blue lights sparkled throughout the forest of Vangron. Marea knew they weren’t mocking her. They were too innocent for that. Her red-rimmed eyes stared back at her in the reflection of the cottage window. Marea’s home sat near the center of a field of grass, which was bordered on three sides by the forest. She had found the cottage, after running as hard and as far as anyone could from a curse that inevitably seemed to follow her. Here, she believed she would be safe. Here, she believed she could live out her life in peace. Here, she had born a son.
Rays of light shone through the glass window. Had anyone been passing by, they would have seen a woman who, although not old, was neither terribly young. That was what Marea ran from. That was what Marea thought she had escaped. She had led a pleasant life for many years, with a husband and many friends to enjoy them with. Life had been full and sweet then, but what sweetness had remained after her husband died soon turned to bitterness. One by one her friends took ill and died or had a fatal accident. Those she had only known slightly followed not long after. And although no one blamed Marea for what happened, she knew that only the blind and deaf could not have made the connection. She had killed those people. Not in the sense of murder, for she was one of the kindest people you could have known. Yet fate twisted itself around her in a way that disturbed the life of others. And they suffered because of it.
A cough brought Marea out of her introspection. She turned to inspect the young, pale boy laying on a small bed. Her son. Reaching out, she grasped a weak hand gently and pressed her other hand to the boy’s forehead. Eyes closed in sleep, the mouth still twitched in a smile at the touch. Marea smiled as well. This was her son. Her vibrant, lively boy. She had not known she was pregnant initially. She had learned that not long after finding the cottage. Her son, Ethan, was dying. Running had not prevented her from hurting anyone else, it had simply brought the pain closer to home.Yet another casualty of her cursed presence and there was nothing Marea could do. Pleasant memories of when he had been little were of no comfort; they only impacted the inevitable loss of a young life, one that should have lived for decades more. Yet memories were soon all she would have.
“How are you mother?” Ethan’s voice was raspy and dry, barely more than a whisper.
“I am fine, son.” Marea’s voice did not waver. She did not have the heart to tell her son the
truth.
“No you’re not,” replied Ethan in a more animated voice than before. Still gripping Ethan’s hand carefully, Marea grabbed a liquid mixture and made Ethan drink from it. His eyes closed as he drank the soothing liquid and he sighed in relief when Marea pulled the glass away. She hoped that he would not continue to press for answers he could not understand.
“Do not worry mother, I will be fine. You will see.” Ethan’s eyes were still closed. Marea made soft shushing noises but her son continued. “I only need rest mother, I’ve been sick before. You will see.” He had been sick before, but never like this. Marea knew deep down that there was nothing she could do for Ethan. This was her curse and there was nothing she could do to stop it. All she could do was enjoy the last moments with her son.
Ethan’s face contorted in pain, tears streaming down his face at the intensity. He screamed silently, reaching out with both hands for his only comfort. Marea held her boy as her tears clouded her vision. If this was all to life, to be born in order that Death may find its victim in whatever walk of life it chose, then Marea abhorred it. She had been blessed with life in order to watch her loved ones die under a curse.
If anyone had been walking by the window that night, they would have seen a woman, her face painted with pain, screaming silently at Death itself with all the fear and anger of a mother’s loss. They would have seen the hand of a boy eternally lost to an irresistible curse being clutched by a woman whose pain was equally unbearable and everlasting. They themselves would question Death and ask why it had the authority to take the ones we love away.