Here is part of a short story I began to write:

The crowd of men laughed and jostled each other to get to the front of the group. The creature lay on it’s side, blood seeping from a deep wound in its chest. It’s eyes were empty and lifeless. The fungi and plants that had been growing on its mossy back were withered. Around its neck hung a sign that read ‘No Lyrics in Lyricdel!’ It was written in blood. 

The crowd jeered at the dead creature, and congratulated the tall, broad man standing beside it.

“Ha! Those high n’ mighty Lyric deserve to be brought down!”

“Good one, Holvrac!”

“You got the Chemraul’s own son eh? That’ll learn ‘em!”

The man on the platform planted his large booted foot on the creatures back. He puffed out his chest and raised his fist in the air.

“Down with the Lyric! Lyricdel shall be free!” He yelled the words, and the men joined in, cheering and jumping about like little children.

All the while, the creature lay dead, and somewhere, deep in the forest, a sorrowful cry rang out, louder than the village bustle and the jeering crowd of men. It was a cry that spoke of sadness, rage, and a horrible revenge yet to come.

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The baby looked up at her father with shining eyes. She laughed and put her hand to her forehead. Her tiny dimpled fingers felt the purple stone embedded there. She loved the feeling of the smooth, sparkly gem under her fingertips. She loved that little stone. She loved having it in her. Always with her. 

If she would have known what trouble it would cause her as she grew, she would have hated it. But she knew no better, and thought herself dreadfully lucky to have such a nice gem in her forehead. In fact, she pitied the other people for not having a stone of their own. It had occurred to her that her father and mother had seemed not to like it, but that thought passed, as her father smiled down on her. She loved her parents too. Her father, so big and strong, her mother, so gentle and kind.

She loved them almost as much as she loved her stone.

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Little Merle ran to her parents and kissed them goodnight, her nightgown trailing behind her. When she had finished, she began to walk up the stairs, one by one. She used her hands and feet to push herself onto each step. She had just turned four and was proud of her ability to go up the stairs with such agility. 

She was halfway up, when her parents began talking in low voices. She paused and listened.

“Holvrac, dear, I’m worried about Merle. It kills me to see her going about so happy, with that cursed stone in her forehead.” Said her mother, sounding worried and sad.

“You’ve said so often enough. You certainly seem to still be alive!” Merle’s father chuckled and put his arm around his wife

“It isn’t a laughing matter. I really don’t know what we’ll do when the curse starts kicking in. It will be any time now. She’s getting so independent.”

Merle was puzzled by this. She loved her stone, and had told her parents so often enough. She heard her mother crying, and her father comforting her. What could she be crying about? Did it have anything to do with this strange ‘curse’? What was a curse anyways?

Merle sat upon the step, wide-eyed, and perked up her ears at the sound of her mothers shaky voice. 

“Oh, I only wish you hadn’t killed that Lyric! Out of all the animals to hunt, you chose the Lyric? And the Chemraul’s son? I just don’t understand how you could kill the son of the most powerful creature in the forest and expect to get out of it all right!”

“Why, how was I to know it was the blasted Chemraul’s son? The thing was in range and looked like it would fetch a good price! So I took advantage of an opportunity, that’s all!”

Merle cowered at the sound of her fathers voice. He was getting angry.

“Even if I did know it was his son, all the better! I would’ve killed it just the same. You know how the grudge between the people and the Lyric has been. The Lyric are a savage, unnatural, unwanted species, and I intend to do something about them!”

“They are that way because you and your group of men have been killing their kin! You go about, slaughtering them, and expect them to just ignore it?”

The little girl on the stairs peeked her head over the railing. The light from the candle reflected off her stone, and sent little purple lights dancing about the room. Her father caught sight of her, and sighed, pushing his chair away and standing up. He went to Merle and looked at her sorrowfully.

“I’m sorry, little one.”

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Merle was frightened by her parents faces. They had called her from her play, and had sat down with her at the little table in the kitchen. The candlelight, flickering and glancing off her stone, the solemn air with witch her mother stirred her tea, it all reminded her of six years before, when she had overheard her parents talking in the kitchen.

“Well? What is it?” Merle wanted to know. 

“Darling, there is something-something you ought to know…” Her mother said, looking at her father as if handing the conversation to him.

“Merle, we live in a town, Lyricdel. In our woods, live strange, mythical creatures. These are the Lyric. They are ruled by their leader, the Chemraul. Long ago, the Lyric people were friends with the Lyric, and were all under the Chemraul, together. But that has changed. A hunter, much like me, had to hunt to keep his family alive, and accidentally shot and killed a Lyric. The Chemraul was greatly angered, and the peace was broken. Since then, a few men have gone missing in the woods, due to the Lyric.

A rebellion was formed. A group of men hunting the Lyric, trying to thin them out, so that we could live without these cruel creatures. I was part of this group, and long ago, before you were born, I killed the Chemraul’s own son.

As you can imagine, his rage was renewed and he set a curse on your head. He said that as long as his son was dead, my first-born child would be cursed, and once at a certain age, would always get the opposite of what they wanted, except in breaking the curse, of course. That was you. Merle, this is why you have the gem in your forehead. I don’t know when, but soon the curse will begin. I am so sorry, Merle. My recklessness has put you in danger, and I ask you to forgive me. I am afraid I can’t end the curse, but you, my dear, might be able to. I believe that if the Chemraul’s son can be restored, brought back to life, it will be broken.”

He ended rather abruptly, with a sudden lump in his throat. 

Merle looked up at him with an expression that her father had never seen. Tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to spill over. She buried her head in her father’s lap, her shoulders heaving. 

“Oh, father! Oh, father!” She cried, and hugged him tight. “I forgive you father! But I-I don’t understand! Why would the Chemraul do such a thing? Why to me? I wasn’t even born yet!” In a sudden outburst, she fumbled, yanked, and pulled on the cursed gem in her head. It didn’t budge. She went limp, unable to breath, unable to think. Her parents cuddled her, apologizing over and over, trying to help her understand the unfortunate situation.

“Merle! I am so sorry, it breaks my heart to do this, but we must. Your mother and I-“

Merle’s mother cut him off. “Nothing dear, your father simply means we are sorry about the curse.” She shot him an agonizing look and patted Merle on the back.

“Off to bed now, darling.”

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A week later, Merle woke up with a start, She sensed something was off. She felt rather uneasy, and got up to investigate. She got out of bed and tiptoed downstairs. Everything was extremely still. She thought she would go to her parents, when she saw a scrap of linen on the table. She examined it. On it was written, ‘Merle, we have left to protect you, and ourselves. We don’t want to do this, but we must. You can break the curse. We trust you. Go to the village doctor. He will care for you until you are old enough to leave and break the curse. We love you.’

The note was signed, ‘Father and Mother’.  

So this was what father had meant! And they had thought it would be easier for Merle if she didn’t have to say goodbye. Merle was mad. She rushed outdoors, leaving the door ajar. She bolted out into the wet grass and yelled. She yelled at the world. She yelled at her parents. She yelled at the Chemraul and his son. She ran down the street, hoping she could catch up to her parents, hoping they hadn’t gotten far away, but there was no trace of them. Their horse and carriage were gone from the tying post. Merle would go to the village doctor, and find out where they had gone.

She slowed her pace to a trot, and was nearing the doctors cottage when she suddenly felt dizzy and nauseous. Her head buzzed like a swarm of angry bees, and she toppled, working hard to keeep her balance. She sat down heavily on the street and felt her gem. It was getting warm, as if heated. A purple light began to show from it. It grew rapidly brighter until it nearly blinded her. Merle wanted to scream, but instead, she remained dead silent.

The curse had begun.

Merle got up and ran. She knew not where. She had meant to go to the doctor, to lie down in a bed and rest, but her feet were no longer her own. They carried her down the cobbled road, closer and closer to the forest. She willed herself to turn around, but her legs kept on pumping. At last she closed her eyes and gave in.