"Don't be stupid. Your life may as well be over." Murmured the long, gangling form as it trampled through the woods. His scold seemed to reach no ears but his own. Still, he pressed on, determined to prove some type of point to his invisible opponent. "You heard what the witch said… There's no fix. No hope."
He released a deep sigh that seemed to resonate through the forest. Longing, loss, hopelessness: a strange mixture of emotions coagulating into something more foreign and dangerous. Rage, fury, an overwhelming anger he had rarely been acquainted with in his good-natured existence. Before he could stop himself, his fist flew at the nearest tree in an attempt to expel the vile emotions boiling inside of him. He scoffed; he felt wretched, and now his fist felt wretched too.
The injustice of his situation stung. All his life, he had been kind and done his best to fulfill his parent's wishes. His own desires were simple: to love and be loved, maybe have a few kids. Life, altogether, was fairly uncomplicated to him. It came easy, and he was content in the mundane. Not once had he asked for anything out of the ordinary or wished for a grand adventure. Now, he slowly felt everything being ripped away from him. The time he had left was just that (time he had left). Every waking moment he could feel the seconds ticking away until his inevitable end. It hadn't fully set in until this moment, as he walked away from the loveliest thing he had ever seen.
He could have helped her, but now there was no time. Better yet, he thought, he could have swept her off her feet. Again, there was no time. He would have given everything just for the opportunity to fight with his parents about whether or not she was a suitable bride. That would have been more than enough adventure to last a lifetime.
The shadowed figure winced, his hand throbbing in pain. His mother would once again remind him that the curse was no excuse for recklessness. "There's still hope", she would say. He could imagine her tone and the pitying glint in her eyes. But there wasn't, he was resigned to his fate. As was his father, because he understood the gravity of the witch's revenge. The searing pain and anger coursing through him made it difficult to breath.
He hadn't spoken to his father since learning of the curse. If he did, he feared his father may not survive the encounter unscathed. It was his father's mistakes that he paid for with his future, and his father's mistakes that would put an end to his dreams. Worse yet, his father showed no remorse. "If I had not done what I did, then you would not be here!" he would bellow. True and fair; however, he would have preferred to not exist if it came at the price of others' suffering.
Whatever his father said, the young man could not relate. His mother had imparted dignity and goodness to him, he prided himself in his kindness. Unfortunately, it was kindness that could not be spared for his father.
The night went on and the forest continued to be disturbed by the lumbering intruder. Mumbling and rubbing his fist until the sun began to makes its way through the tall trees, he finally made his way home with red-rimmed eyes and a greasy mess of copper hair.