I was back at our riverside cottage. Holly's corpse in front of me. The ash was shockingly white. An urn appeared and collected the ash. "I guess this really is one really weird dream after all." I thought. The white mark on my arm shifted into the shape of a circle. Then a triangle. Then took on the form of a vine wrapping around my arm. It shifted to a few more seemingly random forms then reverted back to a circle. It laid there that circle on my tanned skin.
"I don't really know who is puppeteering my life, but they are cruel." I thought. "I don't really know who is puppeteering my life, but they are cruel." I screamed.
My eyes are so dry. My nails are chipped. Sweats dried on my face.
The wood plank door creaked as I opened it. The cold metal handle, cooling my hand.
My home was a mess. Half eaten loafs of bread. Some toys my little sister Holly had left out.
A stuffed rabbit lay there with one ear missing. It stared at me. It stared at me. That rabbit burned a hole through me.
The sun was setting. The sun set again. Days passed and the sun went up and down round and round. Sleep escaped me and insomnia was my closest friend. The urn that held my sister glowed at night. A bright white. It had my sister in it. "Wake up" I thought. "Wake up" I whispered.
Instead I feel asleep. My sister was there. In the black abyss. Beside her was a glowing fishing hook.
It dragged her by the neck. There was ringing. The ringing. She mouthed to me. Her face was blood red. But all I could hear was the ringing. All I could hear was that sound. That piercing sound.
The ceiling of my home. I must have woken up! "Holly!" I yelped. She was not in her bed. She was not in her bed.
I ran outside. "Holly let' go fishing I'll teach you I promise! Just come home please! I'm home big sis is home!." I exclaimed.
The pile was there. The pile of brush my sister had burned in. The mark on my arm was still there. I ran inside. The urn was still there and It still glowed.
It shook for a moment then was still.
Why did this happen? When did all of this start?
It all started with that rod. Suddenly it appeared out of my arm and landed in my hand.
No, it all started with who I got the rod from...Orz.
YOU ARE READING
Cursed Angler
FantasyAria and her younger sister live off the land unsure of there past but content with there present. They fish and tend to themselves. Whilst fishing one night they encounter a legendary creature. A creature with unclear intentions.
