WOODWICK
Chapter 4 —  Cursed

Winter Summers – POV

By Lenn Marcus

---

The skies above hung dark and heavy — like a storm waiting to break,
casting hushed shadows over the lake like dark ink.

The fog closed in from all sides, devouring the trees — and the old, rundown bridge — whole.

Neptune had already vanished into the mist, every motion charged with panic.

Now I was alone.

Just me — and the fog ahead.
Thick. Unyielding.

 Creak.

The wood beneath my heel groaned as I stepped back.
The sound cut sharp through the stillness — too loud for a world this quiet.

My fingers curled into the fabric of my sleeves.
My breath puffed visibly in front of me — quick, misted, uneven.
The cold seeped into my cheeks— icy, damp, and clinging.

Then the pressure shifted.
Tight. Pressing.
Like glass unsent but felt.

The fog around me grew colder.
Like the heat had been snatched away.

Stolen.

My skin prickled.

Something moved in the fog.

My heart slammed against my chest — pulse sharp.
I went still. Entirely.

My body knew before my mind did.

Something had entered the space behind me.

I couldn’t see it.
But I heard it.

The sound of bones snapping into place under strained flesh and muscle.

And I felt it.
Standing. Watching. Breathing.

Then — footsteps.

Wet. Bare. Slow.

One step.

 Creak.

Another.

 Creak.

The sound of wet skin peeling gently off old wood.

And behind it — breathing.
Labored. Strained.
Like someone dragging lungs full of lakewater behind them.

I couldn’t move.
I couldn’t breathe.

Fear clawed its way up my throat.

My heart pounded a frantic rhythm, trying to outrun my body.

The footsteps stopped—

But the breathing didn’t.

---

I spun around.

Fast. Snappy.
Sharp.

Nothing.

The fog rippled where I’d turned — like it had parted, just a moment ago.

I stood frozen.
Eyes scanning every inch I could see.

No one.

My lungs began to burn.

I swallowed hard — forced myself to breathe slower.
In through my nose. Out through my mouth.

My hands trembled at my sides.

 It’s just fog. Just fog. You’re okay. You’re okay…

Then—

A breath.
Slow. Warm. Damp.
Inches from my ear.

And a voice.
Soft. Whispered.

 “You.”

The word slid past my ear like breath dipped in ice.

I flinched — every nerve in my body firing.

My stomach dropped. My knees buckled.

I didn’t turn — I couldn’t.

I staggered forward half a step, legs braced to run, breath trapped in my throat—

Fingers clamped around my wrist.

Tight. Unforgiving.

A gasp escaped — small, strangled — as she yanked me back.

Spun me.

Before I could react, her other hand caught mine.

Fast. Precise.

Both wrists — locked in hers.

She stood inches from me.

Thin. Motionless.
But everything about her felt wrong.

Her skin was pale — not sick pale, not lifeless.
Just… emptied. Like color had never belonged there to begin with.

Black hair clung to her face in wet strands.
Her eyes — red. Rimmed. Bloodshot.

Veins webbed across her face and throat, flickering with faint blue pulses — twitching with each breath she took.

Alive. Crawling.

A black cloak wrapped around her frame, soaked at the hem and stiff with wear.
Beneath it, a once-white dress — now bone-yellow — clung to her frail, narrow form.
And at her throat: a round pendant, crimson and deep as clotted blood.

She didn’t speak.
Didn’t blink.

She just stared.

Into me.
Like she was stitching something inside I’d never be able to cut out.

“Let go!” I gasped, twisting. “Please—let me go!”

Her grip tightened.
Precise. Immovable.

My vision swam. My knees faltered.
Something was being pulled out of me.

She tilted her head slightly.
Eyes not just looking at me — looking through me.

Then—
Her lips parted.

“Hand in hand...
Heart at heart...
Ties that bind...”

A sharp whisper.
Soft as cloth.
But it splintered the air.

Each word pierced the silence like a needle through skin.

The bridge groaned beneath us.
It creaked — like it remembered her voice.

“You weighed the pledge...
The pledge has been weighed.”

I pulled — thrashed — panic rising in my throat.

But her hands didn’t move.

Then the glow came.

Blue light.
Spreading from her palms. Flickering. Cold.

It reached my skin—

And sank in.

Thread-thin veins of light slid beneath my flesh like frost finding cracks in glass.

Then the burn hit.

I choked on the scream.
Half-air. Half-pain.

It wasn’t fire.
It was worse.

Frozen needles crawling up my arms, lighting my veins with every inch they took.

I fought. Twisted.
But strength was leaking out of me like water from a cracked jar.

Still, she held me.
Still, she chanted.
Her voice now louder — shaking the fog like thunder shakes the sea.

“The price has been paid...”
“The curse has been lifted...”

The bridge shuddered.

Groaned.
Boards straining beneath our weight.

“Eht esruc si ni s’dnah...”

My knees gave.

I dropped hard onto the wood, gasping, arms trembling.

She didn’t release me.

Her voice lowered — soft, final.

“It belongs to you.”

The words rang like a final note — soft, echoing.
Her grip loosened. Hands dropped.

I collapsed forward.

My palms hit the wooden planks — hard.
My body felt heavy.
Drained. Numb.

I gasped for air, lungs barely responding.
Every breath stung.

She stepped back. Slowly. Quietly.

I tried to rise, but my limbs stayed still.
Side of my face flat on the wood.
The world tilted sideways. Vision blurred to haze.

I blinked hard.

Everything was muffled — like I was underwater.

The sound of her faint, padded footsteps was the only thing solid in my ears.

Slow. Soft.

I turned sluggishly, heart pounding as I lifted my gaze—

She stood at the far edge of the bridge.

Facing the lake now.

---

Something had changed.

Her once-sharp posture was crumbling — fracturing.

Her hands twitched. Shoulders dipped forward.

The blue light in her veins had grown brighter — spreading fast.

It stitched up her throat. Her jaw. Across her cheeks.

Her pale skin was darkening — patches turning ashy like burnt-out coal.

She inhaled sharply, eyes wide —
like the breath tore something open inside her.

Her fingers curled.
Her body swayed.

Then she turned her head — slightly.

One final glance.
Eyes not cruel. But burdened.

Tired.

Her voice pushed past her lips — cracked, hushed, like it cost her everything:

 “Heed my warning...
 Don’t fall prey to its shackles.
 Don’t let it consume you, child.”

Her face twisted —
as though something inside her gave way.

She stepped forward.

One foot on the ledge.
Then the other.

A flutter of black cloth.
A final breath.

And she fell.

No scream.
Just silence.

My throat was dry.
Breath caught in sharp gasps.
My heart still slammed — hard, fast.

The pale woman was gone.
But fear still clawed its way up my stomach.
Fog still surrounded me, drifting slow and close.

I dragged myself forward.

One arm at a time.
Fingers curled weakly around splintered wood.
My legs barely moved.
My body screamed in silence.

Each breath felt like swallowing fog and nails.
My chest tightened.
Head throbbed.
Everything spun.

Still—
I moved.

The weight of my body felt… wrong.
Too heavy. Like I didn’t belong in it anymore.

I didn’t know where I was crawling.
Only that I couldn’t stop.

By the time I reached a bridge beam, I collapsed against it.
Forehead pressed to the damp wood.
Shoulders slumped.
My lungs burned from the cold.

I tried to keep my eyes open.
Unwilling to let the faint spark of hope burn out from my grasp.

 “H–h-help…” I muttered.

Nothing left in my voice.
No one to hear it anyway.
Not this far off. Pointless.

Just trees and the water below, waiting.

My stomach squeezed tight-heat forming.

It started in my gut — a slow build — and rose.
At first, it was warmth. Tucked under my collarbone.
Almost like a fever.

Then it moved.

Crawled up the back of my neck.

Tingling.

Then—
Burning.

It flared like a matchstick pressed to the base of my skull.
I gasped, shoulders locking.
Tried to hold it in.

But it climbed.

Sharpened.

Dragged itself up my spine like a blunt knife, carving something I couldn’t see.

A sound escaped — part scream, part sob — raw and squeezed.

I bit it down.

Then —
a stench.

Burning flesh.

My flesh.

My stomach turned.

My jaw locked, teeth grinding.
Tears welled, hot behind dry eyes.

The pain dulled slightly — not from mercy.
Just because I was fading faster than it could finish.

My body slumped.
Still trembling.
Still trying to breathe.

---

Then—silence.

No pain.
No sound.
Just the water breathing beneath the boards.

I lifted my gaze slowly.
Barely.

Body twitching.
Breath shallow, broken.

 Is it over...?

The world had no breath.
Still. Calm.
Lighter, somehow.

Tiredness tugged at me.
That gentle, cruel edge pulling me toward sleep.

Even though I knew better than to listen.

My vision swayed.

I began to drift.

Eyes heavy—

Until I heard it.

Crack.

I turned my head slowly.
Barely able to lift my chin.

The wood to my right had split down the center.
Cracks ran like veins.

Black vines slithered up from below — wet, slow, deliberate.
Coming for me.

 No. Please. No more.

I planted my hand on the wood beside me —
One last try.

Fingers trembling.
Muscles screaming.

A vine lashed around my wrist.
Another coiled my ankle.
Then across my ribs.

Pinned.
Flattened to the floorboards.

I let out a broken gasp — a breathless whisper of a scream — and fought again.

The cracks widened.

 Snap.

A floorboard gave beneath me.
Then another.

The bridge groaned.
Tired. Cracking under pressure it couldn’t bear much longer.

 I have to move. Get free. Now.


I stretched.
Arm shaking. Reaching.

My fingers scraped toward the nearest beam—
barely an inch—

Wood snapped behind me.

My skin tore beneath the pressure of the vines.
But I didn’t stop.

Still I reached.

Knuckles white. Wrist bleeding.

My fingers grazed the beam.

 I have it—

CRACK.

The final plank split wide.

And the world disappeared beneath me.

Yanked by Gravity.

Nothing but air between me and the deep, dark water.

The cold hit like a fist to the chest.

Water wrapped around me — hard, fast —
like a hand pulling me down.

My voice vanished beneath gulps of bitter water.
No screams.
Only bubbles.
Light fading from above.

I sank.

Arms limp.
Eyes wide.
Hair rising like smoke.
Still tangled in vines. Tight.

I watched the surface twist above me —
pale, distant, unreachable.

My lungs screamed.
I opened my mouth—

Water rushed in.

God, it hurts.

My chest burned.
I needed to breathe.
My ribs folded inward.

Nothing.

This was it.
All the fight in me was gone.

My thoughts drifted —
blurring into a haze.

A memory surfaced, slow and aching.
His eyes.
His smile.

He was already gone.
And now, maybe…

Dad... maybe I’ll see you again.

The thought wrapped around me like a goodbye.

But then—

Another surfaced.
Stronger than the pain.

Mom…

My heart clenched.

I’m sorry. I—

The thought hung there,
drenched in regret.
Incomplete.

And everything went black.

Death had found me.

---

### END OF CHAPTER.

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Author’s Note:

Hey,  readers -whisper-walkers-

This chapter meant a lot to write.
Winter hit her breaking point — and I felt every breath, every crawl, every burn right alongside her.

If your heart cracked a little too… you’re not alone.

“Cursed” was about that moment when fear turns to surrender — and something inside you changes.

I’d love to hear what you thought or felt.
Drop a comment. Share a thought. Even a whisper.

And yep — Ream + Road exclusives are coming soon: early chapters, lore drops, and things the fog doesn’t want you to see.

Thanks for reading.
Thanks for feeling.
And remember:

Don’t look back.
Not on this bridge.

Pen drop.
– Lenn Marcus