Prologue
Prologue
“I don’t like it.” Dakota’s face contorted in mild disgust as her mother, Billie, held up a small mirror to her face.
“Come on, honey,” Billie pulled her daughter’s ears playfully, “but all the other girls in church are wearing this.”
Dakota pouted and crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t want to be like the other girls,” she replied firmly. The thought of being associated with the local girls in her small town was too frightening. She didn’t even want to believe that her auburn hair didn’t reach shoulder length anymore; weaving her hair in the town style was an outright funeral.
“You know,” Billie started, “when your father and I got married, he loved it when I wore my hair like this.” Billie ruffled her daughter’s hair, placed the mirror down on a nearby table, and turned back to her. “Maybe, with this new hairstyle, one of the boys at church will develop a crush for you.” Billie laughed as her 9-year-old daughter twisted her face in disgust.
“Ew!” Dakota exclaimed.
“You say ‘ew’ now, but I promise you’ll meet a nice boy someday.”
Dakota rolled her eyes as her mother cleaned up the makeshift barber station in the master bedroom. She seldom came here during the daytime, but she visited a lot at night to share the king-sized bed with her mother. Every time she entered, she noticed something different.
“Did you move Papa?” Dakota scanned the room for her grandfather’s urn.
“Oh no, honey.” Holding onto her chemo cap, Billie reached under the nightstand and pulled out her father’s urn. “I had to move it off the shelf when I was dusting earlier.” She placed the urn back where it belonged, at the top of a bookshelf full of family photos.
Dakota watched her mother stand there and smiled softly when her eyes settled on the photo of the family at a church picnic. Dakota had been only four years old then.
Suddenly, Billie doubled over as she coughed and a cloud of sadness crept into Dakota’s mien, stealing away her smile. She winced gently at the sound of her mother’s throat cough. The coughing spell came so strong these days that Dakota thought her mother would spit out her lungs soon enough. Her eyes glossed over with tears as she watched her mom try to control the coughing. The pain on Billie’s face was replaced by concern the moment she saw the tears in her daughter’s eyes. She covered the distance between them in no time and cradled Dakota’s face in her hands.
“What’s the problem, baby?” she asked.
Dakota sniffed. “I’m scared.”
“Come on, don’t cry.” Billie dabbed at the beads of tears falling from Dakota’s eyes. “You don’t have any reason to cry, okay? You’re a strong, confident, young woman. And strong confident women don’t cry.”
“Are you going to end up in an urn like Papa?” Dakota asked, staring into her mother’s eyes.
Billie was speechless for a few moments. Then she smiled and gave Dakota an affectionate squeeze on her cheeks. “No, darling. I won’t end up in an urn. At least not now. I’m going to stay with you and watch you grow into a woman old enough to have her own kid, alright”
Before Dakota could nod, Billie’s phone buzzed, startling the both of them. Billie wiped Dakota’s tears with her thumb as she reached for her phone. It was a text from her husband.
“Just in time,” she said, reaching for her purse. She dusted off some of Dakota’s hair from her blouse. “Your father is home from work, honey. That means chemo time, okay?”
After removing the garbage bag barber cape around her neck, Dakota nodded and hugged her mother goodbye.
“Remember to lock the door behind me, and don’t let any strangers in, okay?”
“I know. Can I say hi to daddy?”
“We’ll be home before dinner, you’ll see him then. Don’t forget to preheat the oven at 4:45, so Mommy can cook the casserole, okay?” Billie walked down the stairs to the front door. “If you get hungry, there’s a bag of sunflower seeds on the kitchen table. Don’t worry about the mess in the room; I’ll vacuum the hair later.”
Suddenly, Dakota felt so uneasy. More uneasy than she’d felt when she saw her mom cough. She stepped out into the hallway to say something, but as she made to speak, her mom shut the door behind her and disappeared. Dakota walked toward the door and ran her fingers longingly over its smooth wooden surface. Almost immediately, she felt a familiar presence weighing her down.
It was so heavy it slowed her movement. The voices of Billie greeting her husband as he waited in the car were muffled outside the front door, and her silhouette was obscured by the pattern on the door’s glass. And Dakota’s heart jumped as she panicked.
Mommy, wait, she thought, but couldn’t seem to get her tongue to work. She knew the words to say, but they just wouldn’t fall out. She tried to open the door, but it wouldn’t budge. So, she started struggling with the door knob. The more she fought, the heavier her body felt.
Mommy.
She could hear the voice in her head, but the sound never left her lips. Billie’s silhouette shrank as she got off the porch.
Dakota was familiar with this weight. It was something more than anxiety. Mommy said the curse would come. But Dakota didn’t know if she believed in curses or ghosts. Nevertheless, she felt an ugly sensation, and she knew she had to make it stop. Mommy said it took her granddaddy, and now he’s in the urn.
Dakota had to stop them even though the sensation didn’t make sense. She struggled with the doorknob, twisting and pulling, until suddenly, the door gave in. But she pulled too hard that it smacked her right in the face. The world turned gray.
Falling...pain...
Mommy!
Darkness.
* * *
Dakota stirred at the bottom of the stairs. Voices trailed in from the living room, where the television had been left on. Fear covered her like a heavy blanket. She couldn’t move.
“Breaking news…two people were killed this morning...tragic car accident...we are still working on notifying the family…”
Dakota’s limbs were pinned to the floor, and her head throbbed. As grief overwhelmed her, she somehow knew, deep in her stomach, that her mother was right. The curse was real...and now, it had taken her parents, too.
