The Gypsy Curse

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: The Imaginarium

Submitted: November 02, 2017

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Submitted: November 02, 2017

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The Gypsy Curse.

There’s not many people who come calling at my door. It’s not that I’m in any way rude or hostile, but locally I seem to have acquired the reputation of being somewhat strange. I’ve heard them talking, on my rare forays in to town. It seems those that live here abouts have come to look at me as being some kind of a witch; and this is not the kind of place to attract strangers.

Don’t get the wrong impression. I am not a grey-haired old hag with a wart on the end of my nose. I don’t wear a black cloak or a witches hat, and my cleaning is done with a vacuum cleaner. I do like to keep myself to myself though, and I have a lot of cats in residence.

Anyway, to cut a long story short, when I see her making her way towards my door, I know exactly who she is. It’s been a while since one of her kind have come calling, two or three years at a guess. The gypsies think they are a match for me, think I’m going to fall for their good-luck charms; perhaps because they don’t come from around here they haven’t heard the rumours.

Buy a sprig of lavender, Mrs!” She holds forward a basket full of sprigs of something that have clearly had their day; so much so that even I can’t recognize the plant for what it really is.

No thanks,” I say, and go to close my door.

A nice piece of lace! Catch that special man’s eye, Mrs.”

crinkled and crumpled lace. I won’t even let my imagination go to thinking where that might have come from.

No! No thank you. And I don’t want a lucky rabbit’s foot, either, if you’ve got one of them in your pocket.”

Mrs, you don’t want to turn me away. Don’t you know that you should never turn away a gypsy empty handed?”

Oh, now this is starting to get on my nerves. Some people just can’t tell when it’s time to leave.

Really! Why is that then?” I might as well get some fun from this encounter.

Because it will bring on the curse. The gypsy curse! Bad luck for a year or worse. Just buy something and I can give you the gypsy blessing.”

You’d really curse me?” Let her think for one moment that she is getting somewhere. “And what will this ‘gypsy blessing’ give me?”

Your heart’s desire,” she says, moving closer, sensing victory.

No. Sorry. Goodbye,” and I shut the door quickly, almost in her face.

Furious, she is, standing there with her basket held out and no-one to intimidate. I can almost sense her temper in the air as her face goes from red to purple to white.

So be it, then. I curse you! I curse you to suffer from five years continuous bad luck. Nothing will go right for you, nothing will work. You’ll live to regret the day that you turned a gypsy from your door empty handed.”

With a nod of my head and a blink of my eye, I send that curse travelling straight back on to it’s maker. Along with a special one of my own. I watch as she goes storming back along the path, oblivious to the spiral of smoke that is starting to raise from her basket. She does not notice at all until the basket itself, bursts into flames and she has to drop it.

I can’t help smiling, just for a moment, then turn back to the task I had in hand before being so rudely interupted.


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