The spine cracked when I opened it, and the pages fanned out before me by some invisible force. I flinched, and the journal slipped from my fingers and fell onto my lap.
There was no stopping the pages that flipped rapidly.
Until the book stalled on a journal entry.
September 5, 2015, screamed across the yellow, brittle paper. A date that didn’t align with what I thought it to be. If the date was accurate, then over one hundred and fifty years had passed while I had endured slow and agonizing deaths.
September 5, 2015
The moonchild must die to break the Curse of the Hollow Heathens.
It is the only way.
Celia once told me an immoral tale about a girl who fell into an enchanting sleep. Like all impressionable works of art, it was inspiring and the beginning of an idea. One that would take over a century to complete.
Much like this tale, my idea of breaking the curse planted a seed, sprouted roots, and grew into something much bigger than Celia and I could fathom. Although Stone’s story was a nightmare, his ending would be an unforgettable one, unlike other twisted tales with tragic ends. A monster no more and a man free from his wretched curse.
It is during this 151-year span that Stone continues to give me the precious gift of youth and time as my son lies in a coffin at the bottom of the sea, waiting for the day that the moonchild dies.
I have made a few mistakes across the decades, as you can see in the pages before, consumed by lust and power, but this is what’s so magnificent about endless youth and the ability to defy time. Mistakes can be erased and forgotten.
But unlike Stone’s powers, spells are not forever.
What rises falls. What starts always ends. And with spells comes a cost.
There is a timer on the spell we cast on Stone, and we are running out of time.
Celia and I will die if we do not bring Stone back soon.
It is safe to say Celia pulled me back from the deceiving path as she always does. Together, we regained control of the plan to break Stone’s curse.
After failing many times to kill the Lone Wolf, she gave birth to a daughter, but their keeper whisked the child away just after she was born. This keeper was crafty, casting a spell to chain up the descendant’s location. Breaking through wasn’t easy, but we found her. Her name is Fallon, and she resides in Texas, of all places.
There were difficult challenges, such as killing her keeper with many miles separating us, but I succeeded. The next step is to hex her maternal grandfather with sickness to lure the moonchild to Weeping Hollow because Fallon must die here, where it all began. It could take a few more years, but once it’s done, I’ll need to send a letter informing the moonchild of her grandfather’s illness. I’ve spent many lonely nights perfecting Benjamin Grimaldi’s handwriting.
The truth is, something else is standing in my way that first needs my attention.
For years, I could control Javino Blackwell’s shadow-blood from Bone Island, practicing killing from afar, but seven years ago, The Order executed him, leaving his son as my only option.
Julian Blackwell is stronger, which forces me to leave the island much sooner than I’d anticipated.
For the first time in over a hundred and seventy years, I will step foot onto the mainland of Weeping Hollow and insert myself into the townspeople’s lives. Enough time has passed, and I am confident they’ve forgotten me. Once the new generations learn to accept and trust me, I will be close enough to Julian to control him like I once owned his father.
Making sure a Blackwell takes the life of the moonchild completes the circle and will keep my hands clean to have a deserved life with my uncursed son. If all turns out well, my son will awaken from his deep sleep and will be able to take off his mask.
For the 151sttime, this day marks my son’s twenty-fifth birthday. For months, I’ve stared into the eyes of this circled date I’ve carved into my mind. It is the day people will meet me under the name of Carrie Driscoll with a false lover by my side.
All the horrible things I have done that have led me here do not haunt me. I have no regrets. It is for my son, and I would do it all again until my dying breath.
Should I not survive this, I will leave this journal behind so my true name will not be forgotten like the original tales we take and twist to omit the ugly things we hate so dearly. As well, I hope that the day Stone awakens, his life will not be as miserable as before but will become a beautiful after with the new ending I’ve created for us.
Forever yours,
Clarice Annabelle Woolf
“It can’t be.”The whisper had fallen from my lips, but as much as I detested it, I recognized Mother’s eloquent penmanship stained on the pages. In her handwriting, the truth mocked me from the spine.
What she’d done to me was unnatural. What she had willfully taken from others was monstrous. All the lives lost were for breaking a curse I’d accepted and could live with, and I was disgusted with myself.
