Never Cursed

𝔓𝔯𝔬𝔩𝔬𝔤𝔲𝔢

Gomez Addams

Nevermore, October 1976

When the sun goes down and the moon comes up, Gomez has one duty: to take care of the Academy's cemetery. A cemetery on school grounds had seemed strange for some at first, but well, one can never reasonably expect all the lethal accidents happening at Nevermore. Tough luck, he sniggered. 

One glance at the sky told him he was already late. Gomez gathered his astronomy homework – scattered on the Copernicus Tower – in a quick breath time before heading out of the castle. He descended the tower's stairs four steps at a time, running his fingers against the cold and dusty walls to keep his balance. 

Before heading to the Great Hall, he passed down the long corridor leading to the girls' dormitories, looking for some lovely mischief. Both hands in his pockets and humming his favourite song, he stumbled against Sandy's toad – the sweetest and most annoying girl at Nevermore. He cast a discreet look around him before retrieving the toad and putting it in his pocket – without being seen or noticed – which was fairly rare for the exceptional man he was. 

"Quick Thing," he whispered below him, "we gotta go to the Great Hall." 

Meandering his way around – followed by his loyal hand – he passed two suits of armour, gauntlets on swords planted before them. Not chivalrous enough, he deemed. He promptly took one of the knight's blades and impaled it with a sharp blow, leaving the weapon in the breastplate. Fairly better now.

"Thing," he whispered, "you see that chair over there," he lowly said, pointing his finger. "I want you to use my suit pin to sabotage it. Enough for someone to fall, not enough for someone to notice."

"Here, take it." 

Keeping a careful grip in his pocket to prevent the toad from escaping, Gomez decided to wait for the naughty little hand outside. After crossing the castle's doors, he glanced at his roommate, Zafyr Silver, who, nodding to him, was drawing a tag on the castle's bailey. A good lad, this one. 

He kept going, his walk springy. As he turned his head to watch the landscape surrounding him – he could never have enough of it – he spotted another student, jogging back to the castle in the drawing dark; Ophie probably, she had always been a sportswoman.

From his first year at Nevermore, Gomez had been charged with the cemetery caretaking, which mainly included a watchful patrol and a green hand. A job that had quickly granted him the notorious title of 'croque-mort' for his long hours spent at the dead's side. He remembered the first time he had entered the director's office – Garry Rendell – pushing the heavy gold-plated door to find the grand man telling him he was "the only student capable of performing such a dangerous and hazardous work." That was, cleaning the tomb of Rendell's great-great-great-grand – what was it again? Well, his well-beloved ancestor. Therefore, since his first year at Nevermore, he had been doing so, or at least, he pretended to do so. 

The truth was, he had gotten pretty fond of the job. Gomez had befriended the cemetery' dog – Spooky, as he liked to call him. He would pick up some beautiful flowers to trash them away or even chase after the toughest of the school ghosts.   

The heavy cemetery gates swung open as he entered the academy's grounds with a confident step. 

"Here Spooky," he said as he took Sandy's toad from his trousers' pocket and threw it at the dog. "Here's a little something nice to eat."

Spooky wolfed it down. Well-famished, the dog rubbed against his leg to thank him before Gomez went towards Rendell's family tomb. "Call me if you find anything strange," the director had warned him.

Although he had gone almost every night as instructed, in the past years, nothing strange had happened, except maybe for Spooky's diet. 

But tonight was different. There was something heavy in the air, something deadly cold in the wind brushing past his neck when he marched to the tomb – it was a delicious feeling.

Gomez stopped short as he reached Rendell's tomb. Lo!

Completely unable to move or even to think, he was glued to the ground. The bones had been robbed from the grave! 

He looked at Thing, who did not move a single finger, taken aback. What just happened? 

"Go take a look!" he murmured to the little hand. But it did not move either. So, he crept forward to the tomb quietly. Afraid he would wake up someone. 

Under the cover of darkness, he read, again and again, the epitaph which had alarmed him on his first visit:

"Good friend, for Jesus' sake forebeare,

To digg the dust enclosed heare;

Bleste be the man that spares thes stones,

And curst be he that moves my bones." 

He turned fast to look at the castle, from which he saw the silhouette of Rendell at his office window, probably drinking his brandy.

Oh, but he could absolutely not tell Rendell, for this was not only strange but bad. Extremely bad. Still, there was one person to tell. The only one he could trust: Morticia.