Garnet or Garnets Curse

my response. “My mother was a Dragos and she and Ellen’s mother were step sisters. It is not so strange dear. There are oodles of Dragos scattered here and there. That is, if they have not already all died out,” she ended, making a joke.
    “Let me help you get ready for bed,” she said, holding up my nightgown.
    “No thank you. I am not ready to go to bed as of yet,” I replied.
    “Well, I will be back up shortly to bring you a glass of warm milk,” she said, and opened the door.
    “Harriet!” I called out to her.
    “Yes, dear,” she said, looking back at me with raised eyebrows.
    “Be careful,” I said softly.
    “Don’t you worry about me,” she said, closing the door behind her.

    Chapter IV
    A Dark Reality

    Harriet closed the door softly behind her. Another death. First Auntie died of a supposed stroke and then Ellen falls to her death. It was all so unnerving.
    I sat down at the desk with my eyes fixed on the floor. My soul was cold and my mind ruminated over the events of the day. I had waited all my life for my father to return, only to discover his return would unveil a terrifying curse.
    It was as if someone had stolen my good life and replaced it with a dark reality. My mind searched for an escape, but every avenue I could possibly consider was blocked. Before my father showed up, my plans were to employ Lawyer Bastille to settle the affairs of my aunt. As her only living relative, her estate would obviously be awarded to me. The tides had changed. My father had returned and I discovered a houseful of relatives.
    Even if I had a purse full of money, I had no knowledge of travel. Auntie had always made all the arrangements. I walked over to the window and looked out across the garden. Once this chateau had been my haven, but over the last seven days it had become my prison.
    I thought of jumping from the balcony to my death, but according to the church that would mean I would spend eternity in hell. I had but one choice—to face the unknown.
    It was well beyond the hour of midnight and I needed sleep. I began to ready for bed, but I felt uneasiness as if someone was watching me. I put out the lamp and began to undress in the dark. Just as I slipped off my dress, I heard a crash and the sound of breaking glass. I was half-naked and petrified with fear. I tried to listen for the predator’s approach, but my pounding heart was deafening. I said a prayer and waited for my doom.
    “Garnet,” I heard a voice call out. “Are you alright?”
    By then my eyes adjusted to the dark. I realized that I had knocked over a vase. “Yes, Harriet. I am fine. I broke a vase,” I called back.
    “Do you want me to help you clean it up?” she asked.
    “No, I will take care of it,” I said, reaching in the drawer for a box of matches to light the lamp. When the room lit up, the pieces of broken glass were shining like diamonds scattered over the floor.
    In my bare feet, I carefully scooped up the glass. When I was satisfied my path was clear, I picked up the lamp and started for the bed. I had taken only a few steps when I felt a sharp pain in my foot. I hobbled over to the bed and plucked out a large sliver of glass. Blood began to pour from the incision. I sat motionless watching my blood leaking onto the wooden floor. It was the blood of the seventh generation. It was red, like dark red garnets.
    My mind exploded with irrational fear. “This was the curse,” I told myself. “This small wound was sure to become poison and spread its evil throughout my veins, until I weakened and died a horrific death.”
    My stomach started to quiver. I began to cry complicated tears. I was lost in my sorrows and fearful of the things recently revealed to me. With my arms wrapped tightly across my chest, I rocked back and forth and wailing poured from my lips. I had seen the mentally insane on the streets do the same. Now I understood the power of despair.
    I might have been lost in that state forever had Harriet not come running back into the room. She saw my bleeding foot and dipped a rag in the water basin. She knelt before me and cared for the wound. “See, Garnet, it is only a small wound,” she said, in a soft motherly voice.
    “No, no, it is the curse,” I replied, before I collected myself.
    “So they have told you about that old curse?” she asked. I nodded and she laughed at me. “Foolish girl,” she said.
    I looked at her through my tears. I wondered what she meant. Was I a fool or was the