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▬▬▬ your name, a living embarrassment
IN YOUR EARLY YEARS, there was a common phrase that your teachers taught you:
A curse could only be manifested through a mortal being—those who were capable enough—to summon a demon from the depths of hell to trade for dark power.
Ridiculous.
You scoffed as you wanted to say all the curses you could muster.
A special seat was already reserved for you in hell, but the foolishness of those blind low-lives managed to reach you still.
Now, only one realization lingered in you: you were now a curse.
It was still speculation, you had no assurance about it.
The curse spirits you knew had fiendish distinct features, deformed, inhumane, and very grotesque in all shapes and sizes.
And as for you, your form as a human remained.
This flesh you ever considered as a curse, now you looked what kind of curse you had become.
All you wanted was an escape, to be forgotten, and to never exist.
You started walking—deciding to pull your saturated sanity together—so lifelessly and aimlessly. In this world of no answer, you followed with endless questions. It felt as though you were trapped in time, all that was left was to be a disfigured mark on the sky and be a shadow of the past.
Those thoughts, your very thoughts, left astray on your mind as you walked on the long . . . very, very long, dark road. Within a few steps, you entered the tangle of the path and come to a part of a place you were never familiar with.
You were in rags, your face smeared with dirt and waste of the corpses. Gasping, you breathed in, fully catching your stench. Feeling your internal organs started to rise, you grabbed your own stomach.
