The Curse of my Wicked Uncle

The summer holidays had just begun when my parents told me that Uncle Mario would be staying with us for a while. Uncle Mario was my dad’s older brother, but they hadn’t seen each other in years. Mom’s face tightened as she announced his visit.

“Why is he coming here?” I asked.

“Family should stick together,” Dad replied, but his voice was shaky.

The day Uncle Mario arrived, the atmosphere in our house changed. He stepped out of his car wearing a dark suit, even though it was hot outside. His piercing green eyes seemed to look right through me, and his smile wasn’t warm—it felt like a wolf’s grin.

“I hope you’re ready for some excitement,” he said, ruffling my hair. His voice was deep and cold, and it sent shivers down my spine.

That night, some strange noises came from the attic.

Uncle Mario claimed the attic as his room, even though no one had been up there for years. It was dusty and full of forgotten boxes, but he insisted.

“No one comes upstairs without my permission,” he said sternly. “I value my privacy.”

Late that night, I heard heavy footsteps above my room. I crept out of bed and tiptoed to the attic door, but it was locked. A faint, eerie humming sound came from behind the door. What could he be doing up there?

The next morning, Uncle Mario sat at the breakfast table, calm as ever. “Did you sleep well?” he asked, though his smirk suggested he already knew I didn’t.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the attic. When Uncle Mario went out one afternoon, I decided to sneak up there. The door was unlocked this time.

The room was filled with strange artifacts—old books, jars of colorful liquids, and a large black trunk with silver carvings. The carvings looked like symbols, but they made no sense to me.

I reached out to touch the trunk, but just as my fingers grazed the surface, the air in the attic grew cold. A loud thud came from the trunk. I stumbled back, my heart racing. Was something alive inside?

Before I could open the trunk, I heard the front door slam downstairs. Uncle Mario was back! I rushed out of the attic, my heart pounding. I barely made it to my room when his deep voice echoed through the house.

"Who’s been in the attic?"

I stayed silent, hoping he wouldn’t check on me. That evening at dinner, his eyes lingered on me longer than usual.

“You didn’t go where you weren’t supposed to, did you?” he asked, cutting into his steak with deliberate slowness.

I shook my head. “No, Uncle.”

He smiled, but it wasn’t friendly. “Good. Some things are better left undisturbed.”

That night, I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking about the trunk. Around midnight, I heard something unusual—a low growling noise. Peeking out my window, I saw shadowy figures near the attic window. They weren’t human, with glowing eyes and twisted shapes.

I froze, unsure if I was dreaming. The figures melted into the shadows as quickly as they had appeared. But one thing was clear: Uncle Mario wasn’t alone.

The next morning, Uncle Mario left the house early. This was my chance. I returned to the attic, this time determined to uncover the truth.

Among the clutter, I found an ancient-looking book with a cracked leather cover. The title read Mysteries of the Forgotten Realm. As I flipped through, strange symbols and drawings filled the pages—creatures with multiple eyes, swirling portals, and descriptions of spells.

One page was marked with a black ribbon. It showed a drawing of the trunk. Underneath, the text read: “Do not open unless prepared to face the curse.”

That night, I heard whispers outside my room. When I peeked into the hallway, I saw a shadowy figure moving silently toward the attic. It wasn’t Uncle Mario—it was too tall, with long, bony arms and a hunched back.

The figure disappeared into the attic, and the whispers stopped. I wanted to follow, but my feet refused to move.

The next morning, Uncle Mario greeted me with a knowing smile. “Sleep well, kiddo?” he asked.

Determined to solve the mystery, I searched Uncle Mario’s room while he was out. Inside his suitcase, I found a strange, ornate key with symbols matching those on the trunk.

As I held it, the key felt warm in my hand, almost alive. A sudden chill ran through the room, and I heard a faint voice whisper, “Beware.”

Before I could react, I heard footsteps outside. I barely had time to put the key back and hide under the bed. Uncle Mario entered, humming a strange tune.

That night, I couldn’t sleep. I had seen too much and couldn’t stop thinking about the key. Around midnight, strange noises echoed from the attic—low humming followed by a rhythmic chant.

I sneaked out of my room and crept closer to the attic stairs. The chanting grew louder, filled with words I didn’t understand. Shadows flickered under the attic door, and a greenish glow spilled out through the cracks.

Suddenly, the chanting stopped. The door creaked open, and I darted back to my room, my heart pounding. I was sure someone—or something—had seen me.

At breakfast, Uncle Mario eyed me suspiciously. “You’ve been snooping,” he said, his voice calm but sharp like a knife.

“I haven’t!” I protested, but he leaned closer.

“You know what happens to people who break promises?” he asked. His voice was soft, almost kind, but his words sent chills down my spine.

I didn’t know what he meant, but I stayed out of his way for the rest of the day. That evening, he handed me a gift: a small locked box. “Curiosity is dangerous,” he said with smirk.

In my room, I examined the box. It was small, made of dark wood, and covered in strange carvings. When I picked it up, faint whispers filled the air. I couldn’t make out the words, but they sounded desperate.

I tried to open it, but it wouldn’t budge. Then I noticed something: the carvings on the box were the same as those on the key I had found in Uncle Mario’s room.

I knew I needed to open the box, but I had to get the key first.

The next day, I waited for my Uncle to leave the house again. As soon as he was gone, I snuck into his room to retrieve the key.

But the key was gone. Instead, I found a note on his desk: “Looking for this?”

A chill ran down my spine. How did he know? And where had he hidden the key? As I turned to leave, I saw something new: a small, locked drawer in his desk.

That night, I was brushing my teeth when something strange happened. The mirror above the sink fogged up, even though the room wasn’t hot.

Slowly, words appeared on the glass as if someone was writing them from the other side: “Beware the trunk.”

I gasped and turned around, but no one was there. When I looked back at the mirror, the words were gone.

Determined to find answers, I spent the next day searching the house. In the library, I noticed something strange: one of the bookshelves didn’t quite line up with the wall.

I pushed it, and it swung open like a door, revealing a narrow staircase leading down. At the bottom was a small, hidden room filled with more strange artifacts—and another trunk, smaller but similar to the one in the attic.

This one was unlocked. I opened it and found old photographs of Uncle Mario with people I didn’t recognize. In every photo, the others looked terrified.

That evening, I confronted Uncle Mario. “What’s in the attic trunk?” I demanded.

He laughed, but it wasn’t a kind laugh. “You’re braver than I thought,” he said.

Then his face darkened. “The trunk holds power—and danger. You wouldn’t understand. Stay away from it, or you’ll regret it.”

But I couldn’t let it go. Whatever he was hiding, it was bigger than I’d imagined.

At night, I couldn't shake off the feeling that something was watching me. Around midnight, I heard faint footsteps outside my door. I froze, too scared to even breathe.

The door creaked open, but no one was there. I hesitated for a moment, then tiptoed to the hallway. The attic door was ajar, and I could hear soft whispering voices coming from above.

I couldn't resist. I climbed the stairs slowly, heart racing. As I reached the top, I saw a shadow moving in the dim light. Someone—or something—was inside.

As I stepped into the attic, the air grew colder. I saw Uncle Mario standing by the trunk, his back turned to me.

"Did you think you could hide forever?" he muttered, his voice distant, almost like someone else was speaking through him.

Suddenly, the trunk started to shake. The room seemed to stretch and twist, and I could hear faint growls coming from the trunk. Something was inside, and it was angry.

I backed away slowly, my heart pounding. But then the door slammed shut, trapping me inside.

In the dim light, I could hear Uncle Mario's voice again, but it wasn't his. It was deeper, more menacing.

"You should have never come," it hissed. "The curse is upon you now."

I turned and saw a figure in the corner of the room—tall, dark, and wearing a cloak that seemed to absorb the light. It stepped closer, its eyes glowing red.

"Your uncle made a pact long ago. And now, you will be part of it," the figure said, its voice echoing in my mind.

I didn’t know how, but I knew I had to escape. The attic door was locked, but there was a small window above. I scrambled up to it and pushed as hard as I could, but it wouldn’t open.

Just then, Uncle Mario’s voice returned to normal, almost like nothing had happened. “Let’s go. It’s time,” he said, his eyes gleaming.

Before I could protest, he grabbed my arm with an iron grip and pulled me toward the door. The cursed figure was gone, but the chill in the air remained.

When we reached the bottom of the stairs, Uncle Mario led me to a hidden door in the basement. "This is where it all began," he whispered.

The door creaked open, revealing a strange room filled with old symbols and candles. At the center was a large stone altar, and on it, a book. The same book from the attic.

Uncle Mario stood over it, his face tense. “The ritual must be completed,” he murmured, as if talking to himself. "You’re the final piece."

Before I could protest, my Uncle opened the book. The pages glowed with eerie light, and the room seemed to tremble.

“Stop!” I screamed, but he ignored me. He began chanting in an ancient language, his voice growing louder, more powerful.

Suddenly, the floor cracked, and dark tendrils shot up from the ground, wrapping around my legs. The room spun as strange, ghostly faces appeared in the walls.

I struggled against the tendrils, panic rising in my chest. "Why are you doing this?" I shouted.

Uncle Mario stopped chanting, his expression suddenly softening. “I didn’t want you to know the truth," he said, his voice breaking. "I made a deal to save your parents. But the cost was more than I could ever repay.”

The tendrils loosened, and the room grew quiet. Uncle Mario looked at me, his eyes filled with regret.

“The curse… it needs to be passed on. And you're the only one left.”

I stared at Uncle Mario, my heart racing. "What do you mean, passed on?"

He sighed deeply. "The curse must find a new vessel. Someone must take my place, or it will consume everything. Your parents... I couldn't save them without paying the price. But now, I can't escape."

The shadows around us grew darker, the air thicker. I knew I had to make a choice. Help him—or stop him.

The room grew colder, and the symbols on the walls began to glow. Uncle Mario looked desperate. “There’s no time. Choose! Will you help me or not?”

I hesitated, fear twisting in my chest. “What happens if I say no?”

He looked away. “Then the curse will consume me… and it will come for you next.”

I clenched my fists. “There has to be another way!”

But before he could answer, the shadowy figure from the attic appeared again, its red eyes glowing brighter than ever. “The choice is not yours to make,” it hissed.

The shadowy figure pointed at me with a bony hand. “You think you can escape this fate? Prove yourself.”

Before I could react, the room dissolved, and I found myself standing in a dark forest. Twisted trees surrounded me, their branches reaching out like claws. A faint whispering filled the air.

I heard a voice—Uncle Mario’s—calling for help. I ran toward it, but the forest seemed endless. Suddenly, a monstrous creature leapt out from the shadows, blocking my path.

The creature loomed over me, its eyes glowing like burning coals. “If you wish to save him, you must answer this riddle,” it growled.

I swallowed hard and nodded.

“What is greater than the gods, more evil than the devil? The poor have it, the rich need it, and if you eat it, you die.”

My mind raced. The creature bared its teeth. Time was running out.

Finally, I whispered, “Nothing.”

The creature froze, then slowly backed away. The forest began to dissolve.

I was back in the basement, and Uncle Mario looked at me in surprise. “You survived the first test,” he said, his voice a mix of relief and fear.

The shadowy figure spoke again. “You are braver than most. But do you truly understand the curse?”

The walls began to shift, showing scenes of Uncle Marios past. I saw him as a younger man, desperate and afraid, making a deal with the shadowy figure. His wish had saved my parents, but it had also unleashed something terrible.

The shadow turned to me. “The curse feeds on fear and doubt. Face your own, or be consumed.”

The room melted away again, and I found myself in my bedroom. But something was wrong—the walls were cracked, and the air was heavy.

I heard my parents’ voices calling me, but they sounded far away, almost like an echo. As I turned, a mirror appeared in front of me. My reflection stepped out, smiling darkly.

My reflection stared at me, its eyes cold and empty. “You can’t save anyone,” it said, its voice dripping with malice. “You’re just a scared little kid.”

“No, I’m not!” I shouted, but it laughed.

The reflection grew taller, its form twisting into a monstrous shadow. “Prove it,” it said, lunging at me.

I grabbed a nearby lamp and swung it, shattering the mirror. The shadow screamed and vanished, and I was back in the basement.

The shadowy figure looked at me with approval. “You’ve come far. But one challenge remains.”

The room darkened, and a circle of light appeared on the ground. Inside it was the trunk, glowing ominously.

“Open it,” the figure commanded.

Uncle Mario stepped forward. “Don’t do it. The curse will claim you.”

I hesitated. I didn’t trust the shadow, but I couldn’t let the curse hurt anyone else. Slowly, I reached for the trunk’s lid.

As I opened the trunk, a blinding light filled the room. Inside was a swirling vortex of dark energy, filled with faces screaming in agony.

The shadowy figure laughed. “This is the curse—a prison of lost souls. And now, you must choose: seal it forever, or take your uncle’s place.”

Uncle Mario fell to his knees. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

The shadowy figure’s voice echoed in the room. “Decide quickly, child. The curse will not wait.”

I looked at Uncle Mario His face was filled with guilt and regret, but also fear.

“You lied to me,” I said.

“I had no choice,” he whispered. “But you do.”

I turned back to the trunk. The souls inside swirled faster, their cries growing louder. If I sealed it, I could save myself—but the curse might return someday. If I took his place, I could end it for good, but I’d be trapped forever.

I stepped closer to the trunk. “I won’t let this curse hurt anyone else,” I said firmly.

“No!” Uncle Mario cried, grabbing my arm. “You don’t understand what you’re giving up!”

I shook him off. “It’s my choice, just like it was yours.”

The shadowy figure grinned. “Very well,” it said. The tendrils from the trunk reached out, wrapping around me.

The pain was overwhelming, but I didn’t scream. I thought if my parents, of everyone who had suffered because of the curse. “It ends with me,” I whispered.

For a moment, everything went dark. I felt weightless, as if I were floating in a vast, empty space. The voices of the cursed souls surrounded me, then slowly began to fade.

When I opened my eyes, I was back in the basement. The trunk was gone, and the room was still. Uncle Mario knelt beside me, tears streaming down his face.

“You did it,” he whispered. “You ended the curse.”

The shadowy figure was gone, its power broken. But I felt different—stronger, but also… emptier.

The next morning, the house felt brighter, lighter, as if a heavy weight had been lifted. Uncle Mario and I sat together in the kitchen, the silence between us comfortable for the first time.

“What happens now?” I asked.

He sighed. “The curse is gone, but its memory will remain. You saved us, but you paid a price.”

I felt a strange calmness, knowing I had made the right choice. As I left the house to start a new chapter of my life, I glanced back one last time. The shadows were gone, but the lessons I had learned would stay with me forever.

This is the story of how I faced the curse of my Wicked Uncle and ended it forever. It cost me a piece of myself,but it saved others. That's The choice I'll never regret.