Curse of a Name by Kima Blaze

Author:Kima Blaze [Blaze, Kima]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-09-11T22:00:00+00:00

21

I was sitting in the library, a steaming cup of coffee in my hands. It was my third cup this morning. Darkness pressed on the windows, but the sun would soon rise. The house was silent – or as silent as an old house could be. Mrs. Tav had already left, but mom was still asleep. A piece of paper lay on the table beside me. On it was dad’s latest phone number, but I kept telling myself it was too early in the morning to call. Or that it was too late and I didn’t want to risk talking to him when mom woke.

A book lay open in my lap, but I’d long since given up reading it. My mind kept wandering to the latest dream. The more I tried to remember it, the more I remembered the previous dreams, and the stronger the ticking became.

I took a sip of the coffee, hoping the taste would force my mind to something else. It didn’t work. Setting the cup down, I stared into space, not really seeing anything, just listening to the house and the ticking, feeling like someone was breathing down my neck.

“Ouch,” I drew my finger out of my mouth and watched as blood welled on the tip. I’d chewed the nail so low I’d broken the skin. “Great.”

I stood and walked into the kitchen. I cleaned the wound and wrapped it in a band-aid. I was turning off the sink when the ticking stopped.

I stood still, listening, before breathing a sigh of relief when I didn’t hear anything else.

Heading back to the library, my mind settled. Like it had been a hurricane until the ticking stopped. Now that I was able to think clearly, the dreams were fresh in my mind. For two nights in a row, I’d dreamt of girls named Elizabeth. The first had been my aunt, then a woman I didn’t know, but she shared my surname, and then a little girl that died in this house.

Mrs. Hearth had talked about a family curse, and after this morning I was inclined to believe her. That said, I could trace the origin of all the dreams if I really tried. The dream about aunt Ellie could be blamed on Lars talking about mom maybe killing her. The dream about the birthing mother could be a product of chance. Of mom talking about the voices and so on. Then there was the little girl. Mrs. Hearth had told me about her just hours before I had that dream. They could all just be my brain trying to deal with everything going on in my life.

Lowering my hand to stop chewing on my nails, I took a sip of coffee and scanned the shelves in the library without really seeing them. This land had belonged to dad’s family for generations. The original house was built in the early 1700s and was a lot bigger than this. The family sold some of the land as the years passed.

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