A Halloween Curse

by Patsy Collins
^{(creative writers at http://www.morewriting.co.uk)}

I’d laughed when Charlotte put the curse on me at the Halloween party.

“Ooops, sorry,” I’d said, as I accidentally collided with the back of her pointy witch's hat.

“Watch it, Mister, or I’ll put a spell on you,” she’d joked as she spun round to face me. “Oh. Hi, George.”

I smiled. I couldn’t speak, not when I realised who it was. I felt my face go red and my skin start to burn. I didn’t need a curse; I was already under her spell.

“What’s up? Cat got your tongue?” She opened the mouth of the toy cat on her shoulder and out popped what appeared to be a human tongue. Charlotte laughed. She looks even prettier when she laughs.

“I’ve been hoping I’d get a chance to use that line.”

I grinned; it felt good to have made her happy.

“So what have you come as?” she asked.

“A decomposing body,” I just about managed to croak.

“Ooooh, sexy.”

She had a point; it wasn’t the most attractive of looks.

To be honest, I hadn’t really wanted to go to the party which was run by the work’s social club. I’d not been with the company long and was still struggling to get to grips with the job. I’d had a bit of a cold, but I didn’t want to appear rude and unsociable. I can be a bit shy and that sometimes gives the wrong impression. I’d finally agreed to go when I learnt that Charlotte would be there – without a date. There hadn’t been time to come up with a decent costume, so I’d improvised one with some old bandages, fake blood and a joke finger I just happened to have.

“My magic powers aren’t quite up to making drinks appear out of thin air,” she said.

I can spot a hint, if it’s obvious enough, and offered to fetch her one. When I returned, I was surprised to see she was waiting for me, I’d half expected her to have used my absence to vanish.

The party was great fun from then on. Charlotte didn’t declare undying love for me or anything like that, but we both agreed to join a couple of the others on a visit to the pictures, the following week. The best bit, or so I thought at the time, happened when I was about to leave. She caught hold of my arm, placed a hand on my shoulder and whispered in my ear.

“Here’s the spell I promised you,” she said. Then she kissed me!

“That’s to make sure you don’t forget me.”

It wasn’t until the following morning that I realised it wasn’t a love spell but a curse. On my shoulder, right where she’d touched me, was a red oval patch. It felt a bit hot. I tried to tell myself it was just coincidence. Charming work colleagues can’t really put curses on you, even if they have got you bewitched – can they?

I’d almost convinced myself the red patch was nothing to worry about, when, five days later, a rash began to develop. Small pink ovals appeared on my legs, upper arms and back. They itched.

I looked up pictures of meningitis, chickenpox and measles rashes on the internet and was sure I didn’t have any of them. An allergic reaction seemed the most likely; assuming it wasn’t a result of witchcraft. My cold was still with me, but I didn’t feel any worse than you’d expect; just a runny nose and a sore throat, so I went to work as normal. I didn’t want to take time off, not whilst I was still on my trial period. Luckily, the rash didn’t show once I was dressed.

On the morning of the day I had planned to go to the pictures with Charlotte, the rash was much worse. It had spread over my chest, up my neck and down each arm. I rang the doctor’s surgery, luckily they had a cancellation for that morning. Then I rang work.

Charlotte answered. “You’re not just saying this to avoid going out with me, are you?” she asked after I’d explained I’d be late in.

She sounded sorry I was ill, not pleased. Of course, she hadn’t cursed me; that was a silly idea.

I tried not to scratch as I waited in the doctor’s surgery, but that didn’t stop people staring at my red blotches. I showed the rash to my doctor and explained how it had started as one patch and then spread.

“You’ve got pityriasis rosea,” he told me. “The rash, which is thought to be caused by a virus, may continue to develop for another week or so and could cover most of your body. It should begin to fade after a few weeks and will almost certainly have gone entirely in three months’ time.”

“Three months?”

“Don’t worry; it’s just a mild rash, nothing to worry about.”

“Nothing to worry about?” I almost shouted. “It itches, I look horrendous and I’ll probably lose my job.”

“It does look rather alarming, and I’m sorry there is nothing I can do about that, but I can prescribe something to help with the itching. Why are you concerned about your job?”

“I’ve just started. If I take three months off, they’ll not want to keep me on, will they?”

The doctor told me that there was no need to stay away from work. “The condition is not contagious and other than the itching, you shouldn’t feel at all unwell.”

“So what’s the treatment?”

“You may not need anything at all. If the itch is very troublesome, I can prescribe a steroid cream, but many people find calamine lotion or aloe vera gel are very soothing.”

“OK, I’ll try them.” Once I knew the rash wasn’t quite as bad as it looked, I felt a bit better. “What causes it?” I asked, fairly confident ‘witchcraft’ wasn’t going to be his answer.

“There isn’t always an obvious cause, but the stress over your new job may have triggered it. Some people have suffered an illness before it develops and that perhaps makes them more vulnerable.”

“What are the other symptoms? I’ve got a sore throat …”

“Pityriasis rosea won’t have caused that. The only symptom is the rash. Typically it begins with one patch, just as you experienced, we call that a ‘herald’ patch. It then develops over a period of five to 15 days and remains for a number of weeks.”

“So what I thought was a cold really was just that?”

“That’s right; although that might have left you more open to contracting pityriasis rosea.”

“Does it go completely?”

“Yes. It takes a little longer for some people, but it always goes and causes no damage.”

“Will it come back?”

“That’s possible, but unlikely.”

I didn’t get a prescription for the cream, but the doctor told me to ring up if I felt I needed it.

Instead of going home, I went back to work. My boss was pleased that I’d decided not to take time off. “You were right to get it looked at and check it wasn’t contagious, lad. Glad you’re back though, I’ve got a job for you and it’s urgent.”

I grinned. The boss realised he’d miss me if I’d taken time off. I wondered if Charlotte was missing me. At lunchtime, I went round to her office.

“I can make this evening, as long as you don’t mind being seen with a chap who looks like he forgot to remove his Halloween costume.”

She laughed, until I rolled up my sleeve.

“What on earth is that?”

“Pityriasis rosea. Don’t worry, it’s not catching and it’s only temporary.”

We did go to the pictures that night. On the way home, I told Charlotte how the rash had started and that I’d half believed she really had put a spell on me.

“Perhaps I did.” She giggled.

“In that case you can jolly well come round at the weekend and put on some lotion for me; it doesn’t half itch, you know.”

To my surprise, she agreed.

That was three months ago. The patches have now almost faded and have stopped itching. Don’t tell Charlotte though. She still comes round to rub me with lotion at the weekends and that’s absolute magic.