Introducing Y/n, just like any other ordinary girl, but with a magical twist. Bewitched and cursed to wait for 550 years to find true love, she's unaware of her fate. Transformed into an inanimate object, she must find a way to save the soul bound t...
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1995
My feet pound against the wet pavement as I race down the sidewalk, dodging people left and right. I stumble forwards, praying I don't trip and fall flat on my face in a puddle. I've had my fair share of mishaps, and my luck is far from great. I apologize profusely to the startled pedestrians, and soon I spot the lawyer's office just ahead.
I quicken my pace, ignoring the stitch in my side, eager not to miss my appointment. I got off the bus too early, and now I'm running late for the meeting to hear about an inherited old house from a distant relative.
I burst through the door and skid to a stop at the reception desk, panting heavily. "Najia Moss, I have an appointment, and I'm late," I gasp to the receptionist, who looks at me coldly. She's decked out in head-to-toe red, with red nails, lipstick, and heels to match her white pencil skirt and black blouse.
Without any indication of warmth, she stands up and leads me down a long hallway to the left. Along the way, I note the presence of a water cooler, a photocopier and several file cabinets, as well as offices along the walls and a conference room with a large oval table.
We reach the last door on the right, and she knocks before opening it, announcing my arrival to the lawyer, Mr. Peterson. I step inside and greet him, taking a seat when offered. The office is sparsely decorated, with the only notable feature being an abstract painting hanging on the wall behind him. The only other adornments are basic furniture, including a desk, three chairs, a file cabinet and a trash can. all in white paint and some of it is peeling, and behind me, a single potted plant in a red pot on a small table in the corner.
The receptionist leaves and Mr. Peterson focuses on the papers in front of him. "Shall we get started?" He asks, and I nod. He begins by asking for my personal information, and as he's about to continue, a loud boom interrupts us, blinding me with a bright light.
When my vision returns the lawyer and his office are nowhere to be found. I'm shackled to a chair in a dark room, my eyes struggling to make out the silhouette of a man dancing around a large cauldron. My vocal cords are paralyzed, preventing me from screaming. I watch in shock as the man throws various ingredients into the cauldron, each toss illuminating the room with a blinding light in varying colors. I can't tell if this is real or some kind of hallucination.
The man suddenly turns towards me and as I take in the man's appearance, my screams burst forth from my lips, resounding loudly within my own ears. His visage is marred by a profusion of boils, some red and inflamed, others capped with a white head, and the most distressing of which are exuding a putrid, green-yellow pus. My screams slowly dissipate as the man gazes at me, his face grotesquely illuminated from below.
In an attempt to steady my nerves, I inhale deeply, but this proves to be a grave mistake as the noxious scent of the man's boils fills my nostrils, causing bile to rise in my throat. I am grateful that I have not eaten breakfast before I left for the meeting, as I gag slightly.
