The Cursed

Many years had passed and I had stayed in the same run down old building for around 50 years now, I had not seen nor smelt another human being for a while now. I was beginning to feel as if I were the last creature of the planet, other than the rodents I’d cook for my meals, and the odd bird or two.

“Mind ye’ step!”
I spun round, away from the stewing pot, I heard a voice coming from a few ruins away, I sniffed the air and pushed my cooking materials into the hollow flooring, I’d made a tactical plan for the emergency moment I may need to hide. I raced silently up the stairs, and shot up into the rafters, were I stayed as quiet as a dormouse.
“Push the door open then!” A young man yelled, his voice still held the innocence of a boy
“Toby, I don’t think we should be ‘ere…” chirped a young boy, “You know the stories…”
“Never ye’ mind ‘bout them stories Jacob. Them just be stories, no truth in ‘em”
The front door was pushed open with great effort put in by both youngsters, a cloud of dust climbed through the air as the door swept open, the dust slowly began to settle like a thick carpet covering every surface, and the older boy pushed the younger one inside first. With a great shove the younger of the two went summersaulting through the thick, strangling air, he landed smack straight into the wall where he quickly got to his feet, swaying slightly from the dizziness the bump on the head had caused him.

“T-Toby, what ye’ did that for?” The younger boy muttered sluggishly as he rubbed his aching head
“Because Jacob, you are so much braver than I” the older boy lied
Jacob, the younger boy with copper hair, blue eyes and a dirty little face covered with freckles seemed to believe the lie and smiled at his older brother, Toby.
“Ye’ go take a look round up the stairs Jacob… I stay put down ‘ere” Toby smiled cheekily, I could smell his fear polluting the air.
I sighed gently and moved back a little more into the shadows.
I could hear little Jacob’s footsteps scaling the stairs, ever closer and ever faster toward my hiding place.

I watched as Toby just sat down on one of the sacks of oats and wheat, while his younger brother stood at the top of the stairs staring right at me, without saying a word.
“Bugger.” I muttered and jumped down from the beam on which I was perched,
“Jacob, what were that?” Toby shouted
Jacob looked at me then down at the stairs, “I fell!”
The little boy smiled at me, the corner of my lip curved.
“Please Miss, are you an Angel?” he asked me
“No, I am no Angel. ” I answered
“Then you must be a vision,” he blinked quickly
“No, I am as real as you.”
“It’s strange you see Miss, ‘cause you sure do look like my ma’” the copper haired, blue eyed mennis whispered
“I am not she.”