Cursed (Pt.3)

Z Surakji

by Z Surakji

Story
Desparation

His eyes shot from side to side as he tried to recall a name which his tongue had pronounced more than his own, speaking all letters of the alphabet in the hopes that her name would spell itself out. Amidst the storming thoughts, however, another issue had dawned on the sorrowed lover. Dacey realized that his brain was unable to picture her face anymore.

No matter how hard he tried, no matter how many faces he pulled into his mind, none were hers. Struck by grief, he collapsed on his back, the only noises coming out of him were chokes and agonized wails as tears erupted down his face and into the dirt.

Dacey got up and rushed around the city, asking everyone if they remembered what his lover looked like, if they can provide a slight description of who she was, what her name was. He went to the farms, the markets, and even to her family’s house, yet somehow no one even knew she existed. In fact, the majority claimed that Dacey never actually had a lover, and that he never fancied anyone. With each person he asked, Dacey was losing his grip over his sanity drastically.

Unable to achieve anything with people, Dacey had decided to resort to the gods.

Dacey raced to the temples of any god which may have come across her, one way or another. He pleaded to the sun god, whose sun had kissed her skin every day; he begged the god of agriculture, whose blessings he had sent down onto her farmland; he cried to the goddess of the moon, which he remembered his lover to be as beautiful as. The gods of the rain, the north, the south. He even inquired with the god of death, who told him that he doesn’t recall collecting any such soul.

Defeated, Dacey retreated to the city.

With no memory of her face, no paintings nor sculptures, and the with the gods themselves unable to provide a glimpse of what she was like, Dacey now faced nothing but heart-wrenching agony and solitude.

From afar, Acan watched his treachery unravel. He laughed and cheered as Dacey raced from temple to temple. He wined and gulped down his liquors as he achieved his “victory”, watching hope drain little by little from the mortal’s pathetic face. This is, after all, the punishment befitting someone who had chosen to enjoy the intoxication of something which wasn’t Acan himself, nor the bestowed gifts he had sent upon this world.

Or so he was convinced.

© Z Surakji 2023-08-21

Genres
Novels & Stories, Science Fiction & Fantasy
Moods
Emotional, Dark, Inspiring, Challenging, Sad
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