We were all cursed.

I recalled my mother once telling me that our days were doomed, that our future was forfeited and she was sorry she had brought so many of us to this world, to live a short life with no hopes of a happy ending.

She birthed four girls, as have most of the other women in the family. Always girls. Only the female gender could be born from our bodies.

They did not know why. In fact, they knew so very little of it, and yet I wondered if they expected one of us to eventually break this sinister ruination we had on our shoulders.

I grew up to be a doctor, logical and realistic. Fantasy had no space in my mind, no matter the strangeness I chose to ignore throughout life. But you know what they say about curses—it makes no difference if you accept it or not, once your time is up, you are bound to be eaten by its tendrils.

I begged the gods for time. I made so many promises and sacrifices in order to live more, to survive years I dreaded I would never have.

We were all supposed to have learned about the malediction thrown upon our family centuries ago, but when your time is counted and you know death more than you know life, you do not want to waste any second you have left hovering over old pages, playing games with puzzles and storytelling, especially because ever since the curse was thrown, no one has made it out very far.

Such was the fate of the cursed ones.