Down the street, Tim was walking with three ripe pieces of fruit in his hands. One for himself and two for his companions, safe back at camp. He was taking in the sights of the little town when he noticed a cursed figure standing beside a small, crying girl. Tim tried to continue his modest stroll and reasoned with himself: "If I attack him and it turns out to be a misunderstanding, Ana will complain again that I'm judging based on appearances." The cursed were people who had become monsters. How was Tim supposed to not judge them? They were just aggressive and ugly monsters that happened to talk.
Tim turned around on the street and walked back to the crying girl. The wastelands have a culture where fights are more than frequent and there are ruined buildings to prove it. there is no need to think that cursed made the girl cry, because Tim will fight him for the fun of it.
Tim asked the cursed: "Hello. Could we please fight?" Every cursed man, women or child was under one of twelve types. But right now Tim hates this type the most. The man, if you can still call him that, is tall, with fat belly, his hair was all but gone and his nose is almost as flat as pig's, but a pig would't look as hideous with it. I would go so far as to say that the difference between this man and a ´fantasy orc´ is that orcs could deserve to be called people.
The man was so monstrous that nothing could be read from his expressions: "Of course, sometimes I also feel like just hitting someone." Tim smiled with satisfaction. "I know we could demolish buildings during a fight, but I'd rather not cause unnecessary damage, what if we went..." The cursed man saw his hesitation as unnecessary and threw the first punch.
Tim was holding two fruits with his left arm, and the third half eaten in his right hand while snacking on it. Not rurprised, only disapointed, as he stopped the powerful blow with one hand... the left hand. The fruit fell to the ground. With notably less goodwill, he finished the sentence: "...to the fountain where there's no one around."
Aura lit up around Tim and blazed red. "The fountain should be in that direction and the only thing in the way is the bookless library," Tim thought, as he prepared to hit back. The poor man closed his eyes and raise his arms in front of himself. Tim's punch sent the man flying through the air toward the fountain.
Tim knelt beside the crying girl and asked: "Hey there, little one. Why are you crying?" She looked up at him through tears and quietly explained: "I got lost. Today a... kind lady... was going to bring a story... and read it to me... at the library. But I don't know where it is!"
The little girl looked around and asked. "Is the kind man alright?" Tim watched the man disappear thru the library in the distance, and thought to himself: "I have impressively messed up."
With regret, he tried to salvage what he could and comforted the girl: "You know, you couldn't find the library because cursed people destroyed it this morning in one of their fights." He didn't like lying, but it was still morning, and a cursed person really had destroyed a building in a fight, as they usually did. The girl only cried harder. "But they said they wouldn't fight near the fountain."
At those words, Tim froze for a moment. The library had been empty when he'd scouted around, the cursed man wasn't a concern, but the fountain... He thanked her quickly and broke into a run toward the fountain. A smile of pure, grateful relief spread across Tim's panicked face. "I messed up, but at least there shouldn't be too much damage."
At the ruined fountain stood Ana, unharmed, and Erik, with considerably less luck.
*** *** ***
There are a few people who get cursed, but none who want to be. Greg was one of those people... he still is, but he will not react to that name anymore. I could explain it all, but that would be no fun.
When Greg was young, he would often get in trouble like many kids do. His father would scold him and punish him with simple task of chopping wood. With every swing of his own axe, he could relieve some stress, relieve anger and atone a little for his mistake.
His life was simple, his future was bright and his father fought for that privilege, when they were attacked. Greg was too young to understand. Was his father strong? Did he die making a difference? It matters not, because Greg had to take care of his mother now.
After good work and good food, Greg has grown strong. But after his mother got sick, he worked harder for her medicine and he drowned his worries in food. This simple life was all he knew, it was all he got, all he could get, all his father could ever give. It was enough. Greg was... happy.
This simple life was possible with one simple rule. "Be happy and stay happy." He said with a smile. Because why wouldn´t he? To eat, to sleep, to smile and cheer... that is what his father fought for, it is what he died for. It feels wrong to not enjoy the life his father sacrificed so much for...
***
A monster was walking down the street. It was walking on two legs, barely moving its own weight. Its long hands carried a huge dull axe. The tall figure was approaching Greg's home, with his mother still sick in bed.
It slowly opened the door and stepped inside. Silently laying the axe against the wall and walking to the bedroom. The sickly lady slowly opened her eyes and smiled. "Welcome back, Greg darling." The monster slowly stepped to the bed and sat down. Who is Greg and who is the woman in front of him? Greg wouldn't know, but right here it felt good, it felt right.
Greg's hair fell off, his face twisted and yet his mother recognized him still. He grasped her hand and held her dearly, not knowing why he feels... sad. She asked him with a gentle smile in a soft tone. "Have you brought me medicine?" He cried, because he did not, because he forgot, because he failed her... again.
"What am I? ... am I a bad person? Irresponsible, terrible, worthless..." But his mother kept smilling gently and with a soft voice stopped him. "You made a mistake... it is alright to be a fool, that does not make you a bad person. Just promise me to try harder next time..."
"I am a fool... and that is alright. I will try my best... I will save you."
***
It feels like it should be obvious when the life he lived has cursed him or why. But it does not matter what Greg noticed and when, because he soon forgot how his body ever looked like. He forgot so much and his life became even simpler, but his mother became sicker.
Greg woke up early in the morning and walked outside to get his mother's medicine, this time for sure. A few steps outside on the streets, he began enjoying the cold morning. "It feels like nothing could go wrong on such a beautiful day." He said to himself.
On the busy morning streets he noticed a crying girl. He approached with a smile and asked her what was wrong. Why wouldn't he help her? He likes helping and he doesn't feel like he has anything better to do... even though he should.
Moments later a nice young man stepped towards him in armour, with a few pieces of fruit in hand. After a few words, he forgot about the little girl and threw the first punch. The young man stopped it and murmured something Greg didn't hear. The very next moment Greg found himself flying, which made him laugh. "Woohoo! I'm flying! ...Wait, I didn't know I could fly. How will I get down?"
Greg flew past grey buildings and began falling back down, with a library in the way. "Oh good, I'm going down... wait, am I falling? Why am I falling?" As you may have guessed, he crashed through into the fountain. His clothes torn, his arms and legs broken, his huge belly gushing blood from a few wide wounds.
Greg sat up and saw a very wounded boy with dark clothes stained in red and an unharmed girl in brighter clothes holding the boy in an embrace. While he looked around, he only noticed rubble and that he was hungry.
The wounded boy fell to his knees, barely breathing, making the girl panic. "Are you alright?!" Of course not, but she was very stressed. Greg's answer didn't help. "Of course I'm alright. Why wouldn't I be?" He stood up and steped closer with a smille and without a scratch anymore. The girl was not in the mood to say something meaningful, so she cried out.
"YOU FOOL!"