14 Days until Halloween
Here is a double doozy - Is this story fact or fiction? That is for you to determine on this fabulous Friday.
And so it is with great pleasure I bring to you my story "The Sister's Curse" I do hope that you enjoy it. It had been quite a new project for me, but I will say that I had fun, because I had just the right music to accompany me. I have attached the music I had found on YouTube. I do hope that you enjoy reading this as much as I have writing it. This story can now be found in my new book: "Twisted - Creepy tales from a mother's mind" go to Amazon.com. Also available for electronic reading.
Music to add that zing to the story.
All Characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. But my stories come from many places - and I have to change names and places. Are they really fact or are they fiction - one may never really know.
No part of this publication my be reproduced without the written prior permission of the author.
~*~
The Sister’s Curse
By Stacey L. Bolin
Copyright 10/18/12
Late in the 1930’s, a terrible feud erupted between two sisters, that would not only drive a wedge between them for the rest of their lives, but until death did them part. It had been the talk of the town that the reason behind the intense hatred was because of their mother’s last will and testament. It was because of what had been written in the Will that they carried the wish of death upon one another that festered deep within them like a cancer that could find no cure. In those days, it was a common practice in the Sheffield family that their Wills were read before the deceased were taken to their final place of slumber. It was Uncle Robert who had remarked to the town’s people that it had been stated in the mother’s will that her home would go to her favorite daughter, and that daughter knew who she was. Because there was no name provided in the document – neither daughter was given rightful ownership and had the choice of living their together or chose to sell the property. Neither sister wanting to lose the property that had been in their family for decades, decided to compromise - It was penned, the sister who falls in love, marries and bares a child shall become the rightful owner of the property and the other must leave. Without any hesitation they signed the new agreement.
The house was an old Victorian - a true “Queen Anne” house that had been built by the skilled hands of Francis Walter Sheffield, the great, great, grandfather of Carla and Fern Sheffield. He had spent a large portion of his life on the effort of creating all the gingerbread and trim details and an abundance of interior touches. He never knew that what he had built would one day become a family heirloom that had been appreciated by many generations who had lived there long after his passing.
Each of the daughters had their own personal reasons why the home was very symbolic and neither willing to let the other acquire it for their own. For Carla, her memories revolved around the home during the holidays. The home stood proud and was characterized by numerous gables, multi-sided towers, and fanciful gingerbread trim. The hexagonal tower was the favorite focal point of the home, which created a quaint reading and sitting room that had a beautiful stone fireplace with a grand mantle made of the darkest mahogany. An even more striking sight was when a large evergreen tree stood proudly in the windows and was adorned with homemade decorations made by the family each year. To add to the Carla’s glorious memories, there wasn’t a more beautiful sight to see then when the home was being blanketed by fluffy white snow.
For Fern the home was a reminder of the dark time after her father’s passing, but it was still her home that offered her the ability to escape into a multitude of nooks and crannies within the 3rd floor sloped roof. It was there she dreamed of having a family of her own, writing poetry, and would craft glorious art work in pen and ink. It was her safe haven as she coped with the changes to her body, mind and soul in her teenage years.
Carla, the oldest, was always helping her mother in the kitchen, and was a very outgoing personality, unlike Fern who was very introverted and helped with the baking when she felt she was allowed in the kitchen. Being the younger of the two girls had its downsides, and made Fern always feel that she was not wanted or welcome in her own home. As the years move forward, their father had passed leaving the three women to take on the responsibility of keeping their Victorian beauty beautiful, but as hard times fell upon the family, the home fell into great despair. The brilliant white wash color had faded to a dismal grey and the hand crafted black shutters had all but fallen off the home. Windows were cracked, and the once crisply cut gingerbread designs were now twisting and falling from where they had been hung. The old wide floorboards were warped and lifting due to the settling of the stone foundation upon which it sat that allowed Fern 's biggest fear into the home – Mice. The once beautiful home was now clearly of no monetary value and continued to harbor growing expense to repair – But still neither sister was willing to part ways.
Carla had married a man named Jon, and Fern had married a man named Aston. Both were very handsome strapping men and could provide for each of the sisters to be on their own, but the sisters would not hear of such a thing. They were not willing to leave their home. It was difficult to have both couples living under the same roof. The gentleman adapted very well, but the sisters wouldn’t even so much as make eye contact any time they were in the same room. At night they would wish bad things upon the other. It was clear to the men that the relationship between the two sisters was becoming intensely evil with each of them wishing for the others demise so that they could be the sole owner of the homestead.
It was on a cold moonless winter night in February that Carla had awoke to the sounds of conversation in the parlor. She lit her candle on her nightstand and took it with her as she grabbed her robe and slippers and quietly crept out of the bedroom to investigate the sounds coming from downstairs. An eerie glow was cast upon the dark staircase. “Someone must have lit the fire in the fireplace.” She thought.
As she grew closer to the parlor she could hear voices talking. It was Fern and her husband. They were not aware that they had woken Carla who now stood in the shadows just beyond the firelight. What she heard filled her body with a cold deathly feeling of rage. “How could this be? I’m the favorite! This is my house!” She shouted as she came out of the darkness and into the room. You could see the whites of her eyes and the flaring of her nostrils as she spoke.
Fern just sat there with tears of fear in her eyes.
“Carla, please calm down. We just found out today that Fern is with child. The doctor says she is due in October,” commented Aston in a calm tone of voice.
As Carla stood and shook her fists in the air she screamed out at the top of her lungs, “This is my house! I’m NOT LEAVING!”
“But sister, we both signed the agreement.” Replied Fern softly as her husband held her close in his arms, worried that the news would make Carla crazed.
“But what if I were pregnant too, dear sister?”
“If that is the case, then we will have to decide another way to resolve our differences.”
“I’m the favorite!” again shouted Carla, “I curse you dear sister, may your strongest fear touch you forever, never letting you forget what you have done to me! You will be marked forever for your ways! You are nothing to me! You are dead to me!”
***
Fern had never forgotten that night as the days grew closer to the arrival of her unborn child. Carla had left the home soon after learning of her sister’s pregnancy, never to return again. The months quickly passed and soon it was October and Fern was very heavy with child. As the days went by one by one, she began to believe that her baby would be born in November; she didn’t like the idea of her child being born on the night of All Hollow’s eve.
On October 30Th, she found herself distracted from the anticipation of the birth of her baby. “Could she really curse me?” she pondered as she sat at the kitchen table waiting for the water to boil for her tea. “What fear do I have that could mark me forever?” she continued to wonder as she stood up to get herself a tea cup from the cupboard. As she opened the door a small grey mouse quickly scurried about then ran up her arm to her neck.
Fern screamed as she flailed her arms and body around trying to shake the mouse from her clothing. Its nails had become caught in her neckline fabric.
“Get off me! Get off me!” She screamed over and over.
“What's wrong Fern!?” cried her husband and he rushed into the kitchen.
“A mouse! It’s on me! Get if off!”
What took only a few short seconds, but seemed like hours to Fern, the mouse had been removed from her clothing and taken outside to be released. When her husband came back into the kitchen, he was met with a ghostly look upon his wife’s face.
“Fern?” he questioned cautiously, “Are you OK?”
All Fern could say in a soft voice as she stood in a pool of her broken water. -“It’s the baby. Fetch the doctor… it’s time.”
***
The labor was long and intense, as she lay upon their bed, which took her deep into early morning of Halloween. As her husband waited patiently for the doctor to come down to tell him he had a new son or daughter, there was a knock at the front door. It was Carla’s husband.
“Come in Jon. What brings you this way?” asked Aston in a sincere tone of voice.
“I must’n stay long. I have news.” His face wore a saddened and tired look.
“Are you OK, please come in and rest for a moment.”
Jon dropped his head in his hands and began to weep. “I’m sorry Aston I can’t.” he took in a deep breath and found the strength to continue speaking, “I just wanted to bring word to Fern, that her sister had died early this morning.”
Just as Jon finished speaking the sound of a newborn’s cry echoed in the halls filling the somber moment with the sounds of joy.
“Congratulations you’re a father.” Said Jon as he shook Aston’s hand and found what little ability he had to smile.
“You must stay and see our new one…please.”
Jon agreed and followed Aston up the stairs to Fern's room to look upon the newly born child. Suddenly the sounds of screaming filled the air. Both men quickly rushed up the stairs. When they opened the door, they were met with a strange sight. As the doctor handed Fern the baby, she noticed a strange marking on the right side of the baby’s neck, known as a port wine stain.
It wasn’t so much that their new baby daughter had this on her; it was what it resembled that frightened Fern. As the men grew closer to get a better look, they could not believe what met their eyes. The port wine staining upon the baby’s neck looked as if you were looking down upon a small mouse with a long tail, in the same position as the mouse that had run up Fern’s arm the day before.
“What is that?” question Jon
“Carla’s curse,” Said Aston, he then took in a big breath and sighed, “Something Fern feared the most – a mouse.”
