I never met my mother and father. Me and my grandma were never related, but she cared for us for much of our lives. She was given that title, because she was that close to us. We stepped in. The inside was crowded with stacks of stuff, from fabric to cartons, to vases and figurines slotted on a shelf covered with dust.

In the middle sat an elderly old woman with searching black eyes and a face shriveled by the wear of years gone. The smile that stretched those sags on her cheeks hit my anxiety and crushed it into nothing but a dismal memory.

Grandma always had that ability. She always made me feel better with just a look. Dressed in a long, thick frock that covered her body in waves, colorful and blending into each other from the top’s brown into the blinding red.

She looked beautiful, as if she was not surrounded by a king’s ransom of oddities, awkwardly placed and scattered about with such abandon.

“My oh my, Nils. It is good you see you have visited,” grandma said.

“Hi Grandma,” I said.

Annie stepped forward; her hands shivered with each step. My big sister said, “Grandma, he has changed. Something has happened.”

“Oh, come bring him here,” Grandma said. I swallowed. I looked at Joel’s serious and Annie’s worried face. The urge to run was high, but I stepped forward. I had to know, I guessed.

Still, would Grandma know what was happening with me? I had to hope. At least that had to be my prerogative as I neared my grandma.

Incense made my nose crinkle at the strong presence. Standing before her made me realize how majestic she seemed sitting there staring down at me.

Her eyes widened. The hand, covered in slabs of fat almost like dripping batter, swept up and gripped my forehead with such force I tried ripping my head away.

She held it firm and twisted my head. Her hand moved upward into the swell of my hair. A hum escaped the clasped lips of her meditation.

She narrowed her eyes at me and pulled her lips back in thought. “This…” Her fingers crawled through the broth of my hair, sending bristles flanking to the side and across the bridge of my nose. I shivered as if a cold entity swept through me. Her eyes gazed into mine. Her fingers froze momentarily.

My mouth arched to speak, but the words died at the back of my drying throat. Her hand shifted within a swift instant then parted my eyelids like the red sea. Breaking the eye frame I had guarded up open, for my eyes watered as I was not able to blink.

“Yes, this is quite a predicament.” Grandma mused to herself.

I heard Annie asking, “What is it?”

Grandma said, “A curse.” Her fingers flicked my head away like it was nothing. I shook my head and fluttered my eyes in confusion.

I looked up at my grandma, but no smile greeted him. No, this was not how my day was supposed to start.

I pulled back, for my body had a weakness running through with gingerly care.

“Curse, wait, curse, a curse, he had a curse? What do you mean curse?!” Annie asked.

“Annie calm down,” Joel said.

“What do you mean, calm down?” Annie asked in frustration.

“My little one. Be still. You see, our dear has a terrible curse. That curse will take his life in seven days.”

I blinked and tried to shake off the gathering feeling of anxiety swelled up in my chest. A beating heart. I knew it was drumming faster than the drums at the festivals, but I never felt it.

It was like it was dead to me. Nothing more than the still silence of the darkening sky with no warning winds to alarm the villagers of the storm.

“Seven days? No, that can’t be…” Annie’s voice morphed into a slithering, meek cry.

“Grandma, you cannot be serious? Right? It’s a joke? Yes?” Joel asked.

“It wished it was my boy. It will get worse. With each passing day, roots will grow under his skin, the curse will consume his body. And yes, there is no cure. The only solace is that he has seven days,” Grandma said.

I shook my head and inhaled. My breath stalled. A choking gasp later I turned away from my grandma, I heard my name.

A hand touched my shoulder. I felt that, but it was like a needle. I felt the pain and instantly shifted away from the hand. Feet stomped forward as the agony set in.

I rushed through the door and into the scorching glare of the sun. The calling of my name had not stopped me. Tears flicked off the span of my eyebrows.

No, this was not how my day was supposed to have started. I should have come out, had breakfast, by chastised by Joel for being weak and play with my friends.

No, no, was not supposed to have happened. I felt a pain in my foot, before my hands on reflex fell forward and planted against the ground in an effort to stop myself.

Gasping, I looked up and realized I had fallen over the edge of a cart. My hands plastered in mud. I looked around and the murmurs began. Their weary eyes and moving lips hunted me. I pulled myself up.

“Child?” someone called after me. I shook my head and held it down as I ran to my home. The only comfort I probably had left was the thing that started my spiral into madness.

I heaved out heavy breath, walking haphazardly to my room with my pained legs. The bones creaked at my advance. My heart begged for rest. I groaned inwardly, for I wished that would never be permanent.

But wishes were for fools. I should have known better than that, right?

I closed the door and pushed the closet against it. My heart hated me, for my throat burned with the anger my body felt.

 I sat on my bed and tried to make sense of this. I was going to die in seven days. My eyes closed when I grabbed the bridge of my nose. This should not have been happening, yet it was.

The door shifted. The closet barely budged as it should have. There was knocking. I said nothing.

“Nils! Please open the door!” Annie shouted.

I pulled my knees under my chin and sat there drowning out the wavering distraught of my thoughts. My future was dead, like me. It gone like the wind that should have blown.