Cursed!

• Isabelle Jefferies, Grade 6, St Benedict's School
• Short Story
• 2011

Excellence Award in the 'Step Write Up 2011' competition

Many millenia ago, a spiteful sorceress placed a spell upon an infant princess, punishing her for her youthful beauty. She made it so the child would never marry; never love. When the child grew older, the spell forced her out of her kingdom and she became nomadic, roaming the lands searching for the lover who would never come...

One day, weary from her travels, the Princess Zafiro collapsed on a mound of soft, earthy leaves, sighing as relief spread over her. Her moment of respite was short lived, however. A strange cackle from amongst the trees alerted Zafiro, and she stood up, despite protests from her body. A twig crackled somewhere underfoot, scattering birds.
A whisper carried on the breeze. “So beautiful…”
“Who’s there?” Zafiro cried out.
“I’m right here,” A leathery voice murmured in her ear, “turn around.”

Zafiro recoiled at the sight of the old woman. Her stained teeth were bared and her eyes were barely discernable through the wrinkled skin of her face. Her black cloak swirled around her feet despite no strong winds.
“What do you want with me?” Gasped Zafiro as she placed a slender hand over her chest.
“Your beauty…I need it, yet you do not, after the curse I burdened you with.”
Strangling a cry, Zafiro pleaded with the witch. “Please! Just leave me be! Have you not damaged my life enough without taking away my exterior and replacing it with…”
“Mine,”
“Yours?” She choked. She had never been vain, but it was an awful thought.
“I show no mercy,” The witch lifted her finger and pointed it at Zafiro, ignoring pleas and begging, mumbling a strange incantation.
Zafiro screamed. She could feel her smooth skin melting away, her teeth rotting. It was to much and as she fell to the ground, shrieking, Zafiro’s arm caught on a branch, scratching her badly.

When she awoke, the woman had gone. In her place, a handsome young man, leaning over Zafiro with concern.
“Are you alright?” Asked he.
“I- I think.” Zafiro replied, looking at her hands and arms. Her flawless complexion was still in place, apart from a large scratch bleeding profusely.
Zafiro watched with interest the blood drip from her arm to the earthen floor. The conglomeration was forming a shape and changing colour. From red to blue…A blue jewel.
Zafiro spoke to her saviour, discovering that the he had seen the last few minutes of the encounter and that once the first drop of blood had touched the ground, the witch had cried in pain in disappeared in a beam of light, and that the spell had reversed itself.
“A protective Sapphire...My name in the English tongue…” Zafiro muttered to herself. Thinking of names she realised she had not found out the name of the man beside her. “Excuse me, but what is your name?”
“Richard,” He said “I know yours- Princess Zafiro.” He winked and held out a hand for her to take, and together they walked off into the forest.