FICTION
Editor’s Note: This story is a work of fiction published in the fun spirit of Halloween. This story is on the opinion page and is a work of fiction, not a factual account of events in Cibola County.
In a place shrouded by the Zuni Mountains, where the peaks seemed to touch the sky and the valleys whispered ancient tales, there was a quaint, spread apart village named Candy Kitchen. Among the mystery-veiled landscapes of this village was an estate sale, the remnants of a long-forgotten era.
Lena, a single mother of two curious children, Isabella and Max, had recently heard of the sale and were eager to explore it. She hoped to find a unique piece that would add character to their cozy home in Grants. However, little did she know, she would bring back more than just a decorative piece.
The estate sale was a wonderland of oddities, antiques and peculiar trinkets. But among them, a sevenfoot- tall giraffe carved from a deep, shadowy wood, stood out. Its elongated neck was adorned with intricate patterns, eyes deep and hollow, and the wood seemed to pulsate, as if breathing.
Lena felt an inexplicable pull towards it. She ignored Isabella and Max's uneasy whispers, their pleas to leave the giraffe be. For some unexplained reason, she had to have it. Without a second thought, she purchased the giant giraffe figure, and they took it home.
The very first night with the giraffe, a chilling breeze seemed to sway through their home. Every corner seemed to echo with a whispered, sibilant chant, barely audible but deeply unsettling.
As days turned into weeks, odd occurrences began to take over their lives. Isabella and Max woke up with no recollection of their favorite toys. Lena couldn’t remember the name of her deceased husband or her children’s birthdays. The family albums began to blur, faces fading, names disappearing from the edges of memories.
Their neighbors started to look at them with a mix of confusion and pity. Friends claimed they didn't recognize them. Every document, every piece of identity they owned started to lose their details.
Isabella, the more intuitive of the two, felt the looming darkness of the giraffe and tried researching its origins. She stumbled upon an ancient European folklore about a malevolent deity called The Namestealer, which manifests itself in the wooden figures. Legends spoke of how this deity would wipe out memories, identities, and even entire existences.
Desperation grew within the household as Lena, Isabella, and Max realized the insidious nature of their new acquisition. Isabella's research had unveiled the grim truth about The Namestealer, but it offered no solution, no way to reverse the curse. They were trapped in a nightmare, and each day brought them closer to oblivion.
As time passed, their world crumbled around them. Memories vanished like smoke in the wind. Lena could no longer recall her children's names or faces, and Max and Isabella couldn't even recognize their own mother. Their cozy home in Grants became a dimly lit prison of forgotten moments and fading identities.
Neighbors and friends distanced themselves, unable to bear the eerie aura that clung to the family. The people of Grants whispered stories about the cursed family and their strange giraffe art, warning their children not to go near their house. The once close-knit community now regarded them with fear and suspicion.
Isabella, determined to break the curse, spent countless nights studying ancient texts, desperately seeking a way to restore their memories and identities. But The Namestealer was an ancient and formidable force, and it seemed their fate was sealed.
One rainy evening, as Lena and her children sat in the dimly lit living room, barely recognizable to each other, the giant wooden giraffe seemed to come to life. Its eyes, once hollow, glowed with malevolent intent. It stretched its elongated neck toward Lena, who had once been their mother, and whispered in a voice that sent shivers down their spines.
'Give me your names,' it hissed.
Lena, her mind a fog of confusion, could only mutter, 'I... I don't remember.'
The Namestealer's eerie laughter echoed through the room, a haunting reminder of their stolen identities.
In the end, the City of Grants bore witness to a family slowly fading away into obscurity. Lena, Isabella, and Max became mere shadows of their former selves, trapped in a house filled with the remnants of forgotten memories. The cursed giraffe continued to stand tall, its carvings pulsating with malevolence, waiting for the next unsuspecting soul to fall victim to its curse.