A Still Soul

My parents prohibited me from taking photos of myself. They were so strict about this rule that even my friends were asked never to do it. I didn’t think about it when I was much younger, but once I reached middle school, I began to grow tired of their rules. They said taking photos only brought misfortune upon our family, and that both my grandmother and my aunt lost their lives because of it.

They never really opened up about why they avoided taking photos until that day. Mom told me that some of her ancestors were witches, and that there was a curse on our family from over a century ago that siphoned a portion of our soul each time we took a photo of ourselves. It didn’t matter whether the family member was a witch or not, the curse would still flow through the bloodline.

Mom also said that I was a witch, unlike her, so the curse would be even more potent for me. I was speechless and confused, since I had never been able to use magic, but Mom said there was magic emanating from me when I was born that only members of our bloodline could see. She also said that our powers lay dormant for most of our childhood and begin to emerge in our early teens.

Neither my aunt nor my grandma had bothered about the curse and had taken photos as they wished; they both shared the idea that death was inevitable, and that they shouldn’t be restricted by a curse. Mom said Aunt Gen had actually looked into ways of breaking the curse as well, but as far as she knew, Aunt Gen’s research led her nowhere.

I never opened up to my parents about it that day or in the four years that followed, but by then, I had already been secretly taking photos of myself with friends, and they were all with my friends so that no one else would ever know. Before I knew it, two years passed by, and I was able to use magic. I spent all my free time focusing on sharpening my skills and learning new spells. I didn’t know how much time I had left, but I wanted to make the best of it.

One day, I asked Mom if she had any of Aunt Gen’s research on breaking the curse. She gave me a key to one of our old cupboards and said all the documents were in there. I spent that weekend combing through my aunt’s work, seeing if there was anything useful to create a counter-spell. The writings in all the files and notebooks ran into impasses; it seemed there was no way to break the curse. However, it was then that I noticed Aunt Gen’s diary.

Flipping through the pages, I came across something intriguing. There was a photo of Aunt Gen pasted to her diary, and in the page next to it was a spell. The letters had traces of magic emanating from them, and the photo itself had a certain glow around its edges. I recited the spell immediately, and before I knew it, Aunt Gen’s photo came to life.

“You… I knew you’d find it, Helena,” she said.

“This isn’t a spell to break the curse…”

Aunt Gen shook her head. “The curse can’t be broken from what I’ve learned. The best I could do was ensure that my soul would remain within a photograph once I had passed away.”

Aunt Gen had not been able to chant the spell and complete the ritual before she died. She knew just by looking at me that I had been taking photos in secret. I asked her not to tell Mom or Dad, and she agreed to keep it a secret. Mom and Aunt Gen were in tears when they were reunited that evening; she convinced my parents to let me perform the same ritual as a precaution, and they agreed.

Two years later, I lost my life in a car accident while travelling with friends. Before I knew it, I woke up to Mom and Dad smiling through their tears. Aunt Gen was also there to greet me: “Welcome back.”