Fairy tales often begin with a kingdom, a king and a queen, and a beautiful princess with golden curls. And she is, of course, of the age to marry. And what fairy tale would be complete without a curse? But this isn’t a fairy tale; there is no kingdom, just a small city. There is no king and queen, just loving parents. But the beautiful daughter with golden curls – she’s quite real. And the curse? I’m afraid the curse is all too real.
No one knows why the baby Katara was cursed at birth, but the giver of the curse, Magissa, appeared to have had some kindness. She let the curse that was meant for the whole world fall upon just one little girl. This was a grief to her poor parents, but they were powerless to stop Magissa. And so, Katara lived a cursed life. What she meant for good always turned bad. She couldn’t grow plants – they shriveled up and died under her care. When she made something, it would turn out malformed. When she sang, she destroyed music so thoroughly it brought tears of anguish to the listener, so she kept her songs to herself. When she cooked a meal, it would burn or just simply taste awful. When Katara’s parents gave her a hen to take care of, the poor creature immediately began to look unwell and after clinging to life for a couple days, the hen gratefully went to its death and out of its misery. A gift from Katara would be sure to break. A gift to Katara suffered the same fate. But Katara learned at an early age that because she was cursed, everyone else was free from the curse, so she accepted her life as it was and kept her expectations low.
By and by, Katara grew to the age when young women marry and she was, despite the curse, a beautiful woman. Men were irresistibly drawn to her face, but no one was brave enough to marry her, for certainly a woman of that sort would be a disastrous wife and mother. It was untenable! Men would come to call, quickly come to terms with the state of affairs, sigh sadly, and leave.
But you’ve read enough stories to know that someone must come along to break the spell, someone brave and with a true heart. His name was Tharros. He not only took pity upon Katara, he loved her and wanted to make her his bride. But he was not foolish; he could not marry her until the curse was broken and the key to doing that was known only to Magissa. Everyone knew where the evil Magissa could be found, but until now, no one actually wanted to find her. She didn’t want visitors, so this was a good arrangement for all concerned. Love is a powerful motivator, and Tharros was well motivated, so off he went, determined to do whatever was necessary to free Katara from that which bound her.
Instead, Tharros found out just how diabolical Magissa’s plan was, for she told him that when Katara married, the moment the vows were spoken, the curse on Katara would be expanded to include the whole world. A lesser man than Tharros would have given up at this point and no one would have blamed him. This was quite a dilemma.
He went to the scientists in the town and asked them to come up with a cure for the curse in their labs. They were confident that science would be the answer and threw themselves into their work, creating many different vials of serums that Katara dutifully drank to no avail. They grew things on their Petrie dishes that they spoon fed to her, but this, too, had no effect, other than to make her vomit.
Tharros and Katara grew despondent. This is where I came into the story. You need not know my name; it’s enough to know that there was a holy place in town where hope and wisdom resided with the holy man, a place that was often overlooked. That place was my abode. The two young lovers came to me in desperation (why must people always be desperate before they come?).
I heard their story and gave them my answer: the curse could only be broken by vocalizing its opposite during the wedding ceremony. Only a blessing could cancel the power of the curse! And only Tharros could utter the Words of Cancellation. But I knew Magissa and I knew that we would have to be crafty, so as not to arouse her suspicion, for she would be sure to hinder Tharros from speaking. I told Tharros and Katara that all of the people at the wedding ceremony would have to be part of the plan. The couple agreed to prepare those who would attend and to impress upon them the need to keep silence about what they would do.
The wedding day arrived and so did Magissa. She would not miss this day, the culmination of her evil desires. As the holy man, I presided over the ceremony. The time came for the exchange of vows. I nodded at Tharros to begin. At the moment Tharros began to speak the Words of Cancellation, those powerful Words of Blessing, the entire congregation began shouting at him, telling him to stop, creating such a din that Magissa could not hear the words he was saying. She only thought they sought to stop him from speaking the vows that would curse them.
Tharros finished speaking and there was silence. Katara smiled at him and began to sing:
Praise God from whom all blessings flow
Praise Him all creatures here below
Praise Him above ye heavenly host
Praise Father, Son and Holy Ghost.
I wept for the beauty of her voice and the glory of the song. Good things come in threes, for on that day Katara was freed, Tharros and Katara were married, and Magissa was vanquished.
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I wanted to write a story based on a dream. I often write my dreams down, especially when they are interesting, like this one was. I added names and a few details, as well as an ending, since I woke up just as the bridegroom was uttering the words of cancellation. I borrowed the names from the Greek language: Katara means “curse,” Magissa means “witch” and Tharros means “courage.” I wanted to change Katara’s name at the end to the word that means blessing, but it was “Evlogia,” and that didn’t strike me as very much of a name. The parents were hardly part of the dream, so they were hardly part of the story. Seems like a shame – maybe I’ll make it a longer story at some point.
Thanks for joining me on Fiction Friday. I always love your feedback and don’t mind constructive criticism. I’m trying to learn the craft of writing fiction, so don’t hold back.
I’ll probably utter the Words of Cancellation over this blog post in the morning.
Lynniebeemuseoday 