Cursed

Chapter 1

Staring out of the small dormered window, he could just

see the corner of the street. Leaves on the trees lining the

sidewalk were moving past their prime of orange and red and

turning brown as autumn made its way through Boston. The

ones still clinging to the trees blocked part of his view.

Absentmindedly he pulled his pocket watch out of his pants

and checked the time although he instinctively knew it was still

early. Purposely, he had chosen this spot to watch the street

for a sign. He didn’t want to miss a thing.

Mrs. Casey was nearly three stories below waiting on the

sidewalk next to her white BMW. He gazed down at the

plump woman in her camel jacket and brown plaid scarf. She

had just arrived and was on her mobile phone, trusty bag over

her shoulder. As he watched from above, he wondered if he

might keep her for a while. She had proven to be discreet and

respectful in their dealings thus far –always keeping her eyes

conveniently averted. That was a big plus in his book.

The sky had been bright blue and clear all morning but

now the sunlight dimmed and small gusts of wind kicked up

from time to time, stirring up the brittle leaves, scratching at

the sidewalk and causing drifts against the wrought iron fence.

He would go out and clean up the two small patches of grass

in front of the building later, when it got dark. After all these

years, he was comfortable working outside after nightfall.

A flicker of yellow caught his eye as a taxi turned from

Columbus Avenue onto Dunhill – a small side street in

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Cursed

Boston’s South End, lined with fashionable brownstones. He

straightened his bent frame as best he could and intently

watched the cab's approach, completely absorbed in his

surroundings and on high alert. Below, Mrs. Casey tucked her

phone away and pulled her coat closed. Is it getting colder, he

thought, touching the glass pane in front of him, the chill

spreading through his fingertips.

The yellow checker taxi glided to a stop in front of the

building and a young woman with ash blonde hair stepped out

but held the door and leaned back in. His heart clenched as if

it had been submerged in cold water and he grasped the

windowsill to steady himself. From his vantage point, he could

see the cabbie handing her some bills. She closed the car door

and turned to Mrs. Casey, shaking hands. He wished he could

hear the conversation, but knew that it would be pleasantries

and then the expected basics.

Both women squinted up towards the window and he

faded back as quickly as possible. He was sure he was a

moment too late, but what did it really matter? He snuck

another quick look and relaxed, realizing Mrs. Casey was

pointing out items on the ground level – most likely the

security system, or flower boxes. But as he continued to watch

he finally saw it: the sign he had been waiting for.

Small gusts that had been making the crunchy, dry leaves

rise and dance with their still colorful counterparts whipped up

again a few buildings further along the street and came

towards the women like a mounting wave. The leaves blew up

waist high, swirling and twirling onto themselves until the

force reached the women and spun around them in a leaf

tornado. Mrs. Casey stepped back towards her BMW parked at

the curb to get out of the maelstrom and the leaves continued,

picking up energy and speed; surrounding the flaxen-haired

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Cursed

woman, lifting and tossing her long hair like a Medusa at the

center of the funnel. In reaction to the onslaught, the young

woman covered her head with her arms and ran up the front

walk toward the building to get out of its path. The wind

disappeared and the leaves fell to the ground on the sidewalk

as quickly as it had started. Overhead the sky was once again

blue.

She’s here, he thought