The Curse of Love

By: Joker is Poker with a J

Chapter 1

Of Brutal Happenings and a Curse

Summary: The year was 1504 and I was just a traveling artist, making my way in the world, trying to become famous. But, female painters weren't respected, even during the new age. The Renaissance. And my luck, not being good nor bad, led me to stumble on a grave disaster.

Note: This is not a one-shot, just a story I cooked up and decided to write. You have to read this chapter. I didn't put the main thing it's about, you'll learn in the chapter! I hope you all really like! I know most of you are familiar with my rather odd stories!

How do I tell you my story? Where can I possibly begin to describe the adventures I've been through, the years, the seconds? Should I begin when I fell in love, even though I was cursed? Or do I begin the moment the witch cast the spell?

Yes, I guess I'll begin there. Let's see, it was so many years ago, more then any person had ever lived. I had just turned eighteen, an aspiring artist, traveling all over Europe with my father, a mere Juggler, and waiting for my claim at fame.

I had been painting a masterpiece, one the world had never seen and, sadly, would never see. I was in such a state of mind, I could never go back. Because then, I had been no older then eighteen. Naïve, some would say. I hadn't lived so long, seen so much horror, seen so much life.

My father and I had been traveling with Gypsy's for about a month, and there was still much to learn about them. A few had taken a liking to my father, and had been teaching him more juggling tricks, and even some fire breathing tricks. He was so enthused, I barely recognized him. For a long time after my mother died two years ago, he had been the saddest person I had ever known. But, he seemed to have grieved enough and was finally moving on.

It was just after dusk, and I had begun painting by the light of the large bon fire. The shadows of the fire licked my painting, dancing with the blues and greens swirling on my canvas. They reached to touch the crescent moon that sat in the upper left corner, smiling down on the rest of my masterpiece.

I felt something brush my leg, and I gave a slight jump. Cursing the small cat in my native language, French, I steadied the eisel, and watched the cat runaway, tale raised high.

It's bright emerald eyes, exactly like my own, turned to look back at me, as if beckoning me to follow.

Curious. I had always been curious. My father had once said it'd be the death of me. And then not two days later I almost got put in jail for wondering in on private property.

So, putting a piece of cloth over my painting, I followed the cat, and that was the moment I would always remember, because that was my biggest mistake. And my luck, not being good nor bad, led me to stumble on a grave disaster.

It happened in a second. A moment. And it changed my life. One moment, I was following the cat, the next, it had vanished.

No sooner had it vanished, had it appeared, laying on the ground ten feet away. Whatever happened in that moment, I could never explain. Why it had been me chosen, I could never understand.

She appeared next to the cat, and I nearly fell backwards. The suddeness of all that was happening scared me.

Putting her hand on the cat, she gave a distraughten sigh, and then she noticed me.

Haunting eyes, had I ever seen such sorrowful, and terrifying eyes? Only one time, and that wouldn't be for another three hundred and ninety-six years.

They were blue, so hot and so cold at the same time, it nearly made you that way. Hot and Cold, and then they grew angry, and I wanted so much to run and hide. Find anyone who could help me away from that stare, those piercing orbs that seemed to burn my flesh and freeze my blood.

Taking a step back, I tried to explain, but what I was explaining, I wasn't even sure, "I'm sorry, madame, I was only following zee cat. I had no idea..." I stopped.

She had stood up, her eyes now brimming with tears, her clothes were bright in the dark, and a flash of silver and noise confirmed she wore bangles. She was a Gypsy. Probably of the same camp as we were, and I had just witnessed the death of her cat.

"My cat." She said, and she raised her hand, just so that I could see a symbol on her palm. A heart with three wave-like squggles going through. "My cat," She began again, "Made a sacrifice. And you are the one who saw?"

I nodded slowly.

"Then, you are the chosen one." She moved her hand slightly to the left, mumbled a few words, and then I felt it. A jolt. Like lightning. It started at my heart and then flooded through every other part of me, this warmth. I saw my skin glow ever so slightly, and a humming coursing through my veins. And then it got quiet.

"Come, have some tea with me." The Gypsy said, and turned away.

Following, as I had followed the cat, and wondering what had just happened. As we came upon a clearing, the half moon smiling down as the crescent had in my painting, I could stand it no more, "Madame, what did you do to me?" Although I had spoken English half my life, there was still a trace of my french accent in it.

The lady turned and looked at me, "Why, I gave you what my cat wanted you to have. What you needed."

I furrowed my brow, "What is zat?"

"Eternal life."

Suddenly, I couldn't breath. Had she just said Eternal life? That was a fancy way of saying, 'to live forever.' wasn't it? That couldn't be good, "What if I didn't want zat?" I said, a look of horror crossing my feautures and a panic like no other building in me.

"Why wouldn't you?" She asked.

"Because...Because!" I stopped to search for something, but all I could think about was, "Where would my life end?" I exclaimed, knees weakening.

Coming over to me, she lifted me off the grounf and carried me to the small little tent I hadn't noticed. She sat me down and watched me for a minute, and then poured me some tea. "Oh, your life will end, but not for a long time. The eternal life sacrifice gives time. Not eternity. Nothing can beat eternity. It puts itself upon a living thing, and that living thing has to find someone. Someone who's lost.

"When they find the person who they wish to give the time to, they sacrifice themselves. The person who witnesses it gets to stay locked in time, meaning never changing, until something so big hits them, such as love, to force them back into the cycle of life and death."

I stared, open mouthed. How had this happened to me? How long was I going to live?

Then, I hadn't known what I was going to experience. Sure, I'd never get older, but the things I'd experience, the things I'd learn and see, would become apart of me, make me the person I am, the person he fell in love with.

A/N: Well, there's chapter one. You're probaly all thinking, 'why's this in Newsies?' well, chapter 2 will be up shortly and you'll see. Please, give this a chance, and I'll try and make it so you won't regret it! Please review and tell me what you think!

Truly,

Joker is Poker with a J