Curse of Christmas: A Collection of Paranormal Holiday Stories by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dangerous Words Publishing
Published: 2020-11-04T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 5

The next morning Syla offered me bread and jam and more of the awful tea. I accepted the bread and jam—which was made from some delicious red berry I’d never tasted before—but passed on the tea.

Afterwards I didn’t know quite what to do with myself. I’d retrieved my heels and was tottering around the cottage, trying not to trip over the hem of the long tunic as I paced the space like a panther in a cage. The fourth or fifth time I stumbled, Syla finally looked up from her book.

“Give me your shoes,” she said.

“I don’t like going barefoot,” I said.

She snapped her fingers impatiently and the shoes began quivering on my feet, the ankle straps unbuckling of their own accord.

“Wait,” I said, “I’ll do it.”

The shoes went still.

I pulled them off and handed them over.

She fondled them like she had a fetish. “These are pretty,” she said, and as she handled them, they shrank a couple of sizes.

“You have big feet,” she observed and slipped the right shoe on her own foot. It fit perfectly. She admired her foot from every angle and then shook it off.

I noticed she had a perfect pedicure and wondered how she managed that.

“Magic,” she said, and as I watched, the polish on her toes shifted from a Christmassy red to a berry pink.

And suddenly, it was as if a mental block had been removed and I flashed on a childhood memory I’d buried deep. I was out shopping with a friend and her mom. My mother had given me money to buy something I wanted and when we went into a shoe store, I saw a pair of really cute pink sandals.

Purple was my favorite color then and I’d desperately wanted to find some purple sandals to go with my wardrobe of purple t-shirts and shorts. (My other indulged my preferences and that year I don’t think I had a single piece of clothing that didn’t have purple on it somewhere.)

“Do you have them in purple?” I’d asked the clerk.

“No, hon, only the colors you see out.”

“Pink goes with purple,” my friend’s mother had pointed out and I didn’t want to contradict her because I didn’t want her to think I was a brat. So I’d just looked at the shoes, really hard and then I picked them up and took them to the cashier.

“You changed the color of the shoes,” my friend said to me. “You’re weird.”

“I like purple,” I said, as if that explained it, and happily handed over my money.

My friend and I never went shopping together again.

When I got older, I realized I could change the color of my odd eyes too—making the blue one hazel or the hazel one blue to match the other as my mood dictated. Few people ever really noticed but if they did, I simply said that I was wearing contacts. No one ever questioned that.

I could do other things too, quiet things. Once when my mother was going out to meet

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