Cursed

by Smith, Ava

  Sarah feels upset and glances down, but then she sees someone hold her hand out to her. She looks up to see a young girl with long red hair smiling at her.

  “I’m Anne Crawley,” the girl tells her.

  Sarah shakes her hand firmly, “Sarah Mitchell.”

  Anne is the best dancer in her school and like Sarah she is desperate to perform ballet. She is also the only person there who makes an effort to speak to Sarah.

  A little later 30 girls are standing side by side in a large rehearsal room with their eyes fixed on the head choreographer at the school. The students are quite close together and Sarah is right at the back and cannot be seen properly by the judges. Hailey and a few of the more crafty girls make sure they’re in the front line. The school choreographer shouts out instructions to them while a pianist plays music in the background. The girls hop, skip, twirl and gallop while the two judges make discreet notes on sheets of paper. After 25 minutes of a harrowing routine the instructor tells everyone,

  “Please stop dancing.”

  The girls all stop at once and look tired and a little worn out. The teacher approaches her two colleagues and whispers to them for five minutes. Many of the girls glance at each other without saying a word. The instructor claps her hands together and yells out,

  “I would like numbers 234, 567, 782 and 311 to come to the front and whoever’s in the front right now please go to the back.”

  The dancers in the front row, including Hailey, scowl at the request and traipse to the back of the room just as Sarah and three other girls move to the front.

  “We will repeat the same exercise again from the beginning. So one, two, three, begin.”

  Sarah dances again and this time all three judges now focus on her. The judges try to be tactful about it but it’s impossible for the others not to notice. After a further 15 minutes the instructor claps her hands again.

  “That’s all girls, thank you. Please go for your lunch now. After lunch we would like you to participate in a few acting exercises.”

  The 30 girls start to murmur as they scramble to the door and leave one by one. Miss Linney walks in shortly afterwards.

  “How are we doing?” she asks the three judges.

  The woman who instructed Sarah answers, “There is one girl who is literally leaps and bounds above the others.”

  “Really? Which one?” Miss Linney asks.

  “Number 311, the one who came in late this morning,” the teacher answers. Miss Linney shows no emotion on hearing the news.

  Sarah still wears her dance costume and number tag as she walks through the crowded canteen during lunch. She glances around and notices all the tables are filled and many of the girls ignore her and some even appear to sneer. Anne is about to stand up when Hailey, who is sitting opposite, tells her,

  “Don’t you dare say anything.”

  Anne sits back down and Sarah takes a seat at a table that is far away from the rest of the girls. She munches on her sandwich and glances out of the window, but perks up when she sees a tiny bird hop on the ledge. It starts to tweet and Sarah immediately opens the window a fraction. The room quietens down and everyone focuses on Sarah who doesn’t seem to notice.

  “What on earth is she doing?” Hailey asks, frowning.

  Sarah whispers to the bird, “Come on, you can come in if you like? Are you hungry?”

  To everyone’s astonishment the bird hops inside the room and onto Sarah’s table and she feeds it a tiny piece of bread from her sandwich.

  “You are hungry,” she says.

  The bird tweets back and Sarah answers; to the untrained eye it looks like she’s having a conversation with it. After several minutes Sarah opens the window a little wider and the bird hops out and flies off into the distance. She spins to see the entire room of 250 girls watching her. Sarah cowers with embarrassment and hastily rushes out of the canteen. All the girls talk at once, in particular Hailey, who declares,

  “That girl is really weird!”

  “Actually, I like her,” Anne remarks taking a sip from a carton of grape juice.

  Several girls chuckle at Anne’s remark.

  After lunch, Sarah composes herself and tries to focus on doing really well for the rest of her audition. This time the three judges are joined by Miss Linney who sits at the front of the room and gazes impassively at the girls. It forces a couple of the children to move to the back row. The choreographer walks to the centre of the room and says to the girls,

  “I hope you had a pleasant lunch.”

  “Some of us more than others,” Hailey mumbles and a few of the girls snigger.

  “Quiet please. We would like to see how you interact with each other so I am going to divide you up into groups of three. I want one of you to pretend you’re in a confrontation with the other two. Numbers 311, 437 and 651 - you’ll be first.”

  Anne, Sarah and Hailey step forward and Hailey instantly starts to push Sarah, thrusting her backwards a number of times. Miss Linney and the three judges watch without commenting. Hailey relishes her chance to treat Sarah badly and she continues to push the girl until Sarah’s feet are almost to the back wall. Sarah looks helplessly to the other girls in the room, to Miss Linney, and finally to Anne who leans forward and whispers,

  “Fight back.”

  Sarah puts on a determined look, stands up straight and pushes Hailey, forcing her to step backwards, but Sarah’s not finished and she pushes Hailey again and again.

  All the while Miss Linney watches.

  Hailey is practically on the verge of tears when Miss Linney hollers, “Stop!

  Sarah doesn’t stop and she pushes the girl one more time, causing Hailey to fall awkwardly to the floor. Sarah returns to reality and notices Hailey is now in tears and the whole room, including the three judges, is watching her.

  “I’m sorry, I just got carried away,” Sarah tells everyone.

  “I think you may go now,” Miss Linney tells Sarah.

  Sarah nods and rushes out of the room while one of the judges walks over to Hailey and says, “It’s all right, dear. Maybe you should get a drink of water?”

  Sarah, meanwhile, returns to the changing room, rips the number tag from her leotard and changes out of her dance clothes. She runs out of the room carrying her bag and flings open the exit doors. The child marches through the beautiful grounds and the instant she passes the academy gate she bursts into tears.

  Once she’s home, Sarah rushes to her room and slams her door. Her happy demeanour is replaced with utter despair and even the poster of Odette can’t cheer her up. She begins to limp slightly as she walks over to her chair and sits down. When she removes her left shoe she sees her toenail is broken and is bleeding badly. The pain is excruciating but Sarah merely lowers her head and whispers, “I’ll never be a dancer now.”

  Sarah spends the next few weeks in a state of limbo and hardly eats or sleeps. Every afternoon she comes home from school and crosses out one more day that she hasn’t heard from the academy. To make things worse she knows that most of the other girls already got their letters and all of those girls got in. She keeps her feelings hidden from Victor but he knows how much she is suffering. One Saturday afternoon Sarah is so enraged at not being chosen, she is about to pull the poster of Odette from the wall, when Victor shoves an envelope under her door. Sarah’s eyes narrow and she strolls over and picks it up. It has the logo for ‘The Odette Carmichael Ballet Academy’ on it and her heart starts to race. She backs up to her chair and sits down, and with her fingers trembling, she tears open the envelope and takes out a typed letter which reads:

  “‘Dear Miss Mitchell, We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into the junior dance programme at the Odette Carmichael Ballet Academy.’”

  Sarah throws the letter in the air and tears of joy roll down her cheeks.

  “I got in! I got in!” she shouts. She turns to the Swan Queen poster on her wall and utters calmly, “I’m going to be a dancer!”

&
nbsp; CHAPTER 5

  It is ten years later and Big Ben chimes 6 o’clock as the city of London basks in the summer sun. All around, hardworking Londoners make their way home from work. They cram into buses, trains and cars and squeeze into the last available spaces. It’s the height of summer and a very hot day and this makes the journey home even more demanding. A few of the travellers have stripped themselves of their jackets while others fan themselves with magazines.

  In an affluent part of the city and a world away from the hustle and bustle of central London, a beautiful townhouse stands in an elegant street. It is one of those old Edwardian houses that looks deceptively small from the outside but has at least three floors on the inside. Like all houses of that era it has an old English charm about it. Some of the garden lights turn on automatically and right now a riotous party ensues from within.

  The owner of this house is Daniel MacGregor, a tall, fair and handsome man who has perfect teeth that he spends five minutes cleaning every day. Daniel’s eyes are a radiant blue and his hair is tousled with an auburn hue to it. He towers over everyone else and more than a few of the ladies have taken to watching his every move. At the moment he is rushed off his feet as he entertains 50 guests in his luxury home, and luxury is the optimum word as everywhere there are expensive works of art, and elegant bespoke furniture. There’s even a grand piano parked in the corner, but this is merely a decoration, since Daniel doesn’t play.

  He is standing in his favourite jeans and white shirt and drinks beer from a tall glass. Being something of a showman he is able to wow the crowd with his antics. At university he was known as ‘the man of fun’ because of his late night partying and his frequent attempts to break the “Who can hula-hoop the fastest after getting completely plastered” contest. The same is true of today and the crowd are clearly enraptured. He finishes his beer, steadies himself and addresses them in slurred speech.

  “Thank you for coming to my birthday party. I hope... I hope you appreciate the amount of planning and effort I went into organising this magnificent event.”

  A few of the guests shake their heads and shout out, “NOOOOOO!”

  Daniel speaks to them again. “You’re right I just winged it,” a handful of his chums chuckle and he continues, “and now ladies and gentlemen, please enjoy yourselves for the night is young and so am I!” He tips forward when someone catches him and stands him back up. “Thank you kindly,” he tells them.

  A whole hour has passed since Daniel’s speech and the house is not any quieter as the lounge has become a makeshift disco for the guests. Daniel, himself, lies on some cushions attempting to woo a girl in her mid-20s.

  “Do you know I designed this house myself,” he declares proudly.

  “Really?” she asks looking around. “It’s very beautiful Mr MacGregor. You’re so talented.”

  “Yes I am,” he says as he starts to caress her arm, “Perhaps I could design something for you, Stephanie?”

  The girl moves back in horror. “It’s Jennifer.”

  The music stops abruptly and Daniel stands up looking furious. “What the hell? Who turned off my music?!” he yells, “No one comes forward and he asks again, “Well, who was it?”

  The crowd part and Daniel calms in an instant, the shock on his face all too apparent. Standing before him is a dignified man in his late 50s. It is John MacGregor, Daniel’s father. He stares at the mess of leftover food and empty beer bottles and is less than pleased. Just one look from him puts Daniel in his place and he instantly turns to the girl and mumbles something in her ear. She huffs as she leaves the room. Little by little the rest follow until Daniel and his father are completely alone.

  “Well, someone’s got to break the ice,” Daniel quips feebly.

  John is clearly not amused and retorts with a sharp, “Have you forgotten your party?”

  “Party?”

  “Your birthday party with 50 guests and your fiancée.”

  Daniel nods. “Oh, that party. No of course not. How could I forget?”

  His father stares a moment before coming back with, “Then get dressed. There’s a car waiting for you outside.”

  John leaves the room and the chaos associated with the crudely organised get- together, while Daniel stares ahead looking helpless.

  Daniel makes his way to his bedroom and hastily throws on some appropriate clothes. He searches high and low for his mobile phone but can’t find it anywhere. After several minutes of constant searching he stands back, worn out. Forgetting about his phone, he then races downstairs and opens the front door and his face sinks in an instant. Just in front of his house is a uniformed chauffeur who opens the car door for him.

  Daniel walks slovenly towards him and utters, “I’ll take mine.”

  The chauffeur replies in an upper-class accent. “You seem quite inebriated, sir. Perhaps you’re not fit to drive?”

  “Oh, I’m fit. Trust me, I’m very fit!” Daniel retorts.

  The chauffeur slams the car door shut. “As you wish, sir.”

  Daniel staggers back into the drive and his eyes light up at the sight of his latest toy; a brand new Porsche 911. He eases into the driver’s seat, turns on the ignition and thrusts his foot on the accelerator.

  CHAPTER 6

  Daniel drives along country roads at a fast pace and listens to jazz music from the car radio. He instinctively taps his fingers on the steering wheel and bops his head up and down. The light is starting to fade and he turns on the headlights. This is a journey he makes regularly, usually when he needs money. Daniel’s father had hoped to groom his only son to be the next head of the company, but when he showed virtually no interest, his father reluctantly gave up.

  Daniel rallies his car through dangerous roads like a seasoned pro and zips past miles of barren land with no building or car in sight. There is something very unwholesome about this place; even the air seems a little denser than it is elsewhere, but it’s exactly what his father wants; a refuge in the middle of nowhere. John has become more reclusive over the years and only invites people on special occasions. Like his son’s 26th birthday. Maybe it will be a better experience than the previous year, when Daniel turned up intoxicated and swore at the guests.

  The car headlights shine on a sign for Hope Lake. This is a huge area of water inhabited by plenty of local wildlife and it has been fortunate to remain untouched for years. Despite its obvious beauty it’s not a place one should venture into at night. Strange stories of people taking night-time swims and disappearing without a trace have been reported. Just three months ago a local man swore he saw a young woman running naked through the woods only to vanish behind a group of trees. Daniel isn’t bothered by the rumours, but when he passes a small clearing with two large boulders near the water, he turns his head slightly. There is nothing amazing about this spot except that he and John used to fish here during the summer and it’s one of the few happy memories they share together.

  He is at the halfway mark and he glances to the passenger seat and sees a bottle of water rolling back and forth; he reaches for it but it moves away. He leans forward and stubbornly reaches for it again and this time he barely touches the bottle with his fingers.

  “Almost got you,” he mutters.

  As he glances up he sees a young woman standing in the middle of the road and he swerves to avoid her. His expensive car plunges down a small hill, snapping the branches of trees along the way.

  He holds on for dear life and rambles, “Please don’t let me die. I’m too young!” He can see the lake right in front of him and cries out, “Oh shit!”

  Seconds later the car flies through the air and plummets into Hope Lake. The car now sits in one foot of water, but there’s no sign of movement.

  The woman calls from the top of the hill. “Are you OK?”

  The car door swings open and Daniel eventually steps out and looks at his shoes which are ankle deep in water. He scrambles up the muddy hill, slipping back a couple of times before he finally reac
hes the top. The young woman watches from behind a tree and cowers from him almost like a deer about to bolt. Daniel’s eyes start to narrow as he can’t see her properly.

  “Are you going to show yourself? Promise I won’t bite,” he says.

  Sarah Mitchell steps out from behind the tree and his eyes widen. The little girl has grown up and is truly the stuff of legends; beautiful, captivating, elegant and ethereal. She still wears her hair long and those intense eyes of hers peer into his soul.

  Daniel gulps before he asks, “Are... are you lost?”

  Sarah shakes her head. “No, I was taking a walk.”

  “On a deserted road? At night? That’s wise.”

  Her eyes narrow. “Well it might help if you paid attention to the road?”

  “I always pay attention, which is probably why you’re still around.” He says glancing around, then turns back to her and asks, “But if I could just use your phone?”

  “I don’t have a phone!”

  “Of course you don’t. How could anyone in this day and age possibly have a phone?”

  He slips in the mud and slides all the way down to his car and is lucky he doesn’t get gouged by a twig. It takes several seconds for him to get there and when he does he sits waist deep in the lake and looks furious. Sarah laughs to herself and makes her way down to him. She holds out her hand and Daniel takes it and pulls himself up.

  “The mud gets quite slippery. You have to be careful,” she tells him in a gentler voice.

  Daniel lets go of her hand.

  “I gathered.” He continues to stare before enquiring, “I was wondering if you had a name?”

  “And why would you want to know my name?”

  “I was just... I mean I...”

  “You were curious.”

  “Very curious. It’s not every day you meet a beautiful young woman wandering alone through the woods.”

  “Sometimes you don’t have a choice,” she replies solemnly.

  He’s about to speak when he hears a creaking sound and turns just in time to see the car edging deeper into the lake. When he looks back, Sarah has gone.