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The Burden of the Hex

There once was a man who moved to Florida. He had a hex put on him that required him to always rob and steal, or else he would die. The hex was revealed to him in a dream, six months after arriving to Florida from New Jersey. “As long as you live in Florida, you must always rob and steal,” said the shadowy figure in his dream, “if you do not rob and steal for three straight days, you will surely die.” Per his special probation terms, leaving Florida was not an option… so he decided to always rob and steal. The demonic entity explained further, “From this point on, you shall be known as ‘Florida Man.'” 

Ever since then, he kept robbing and stealing.

Several years passed. One day he came across an old man walking beside an old woman, early in the morning, chatting peacefully as they exercised while enjoying the Florida sunrise. He pointed a handgun at the old man and said, “Empty your pockets, bitch!” The old man raised his hands in the air and explained calmly that he had a gun in his hoodie pocket, “please don’t shoot us!” Florida Man shot him in the leg. The old man fell to the ground and the old lady screamed and froze. Florida Man grabbed the old man’s gun and iPhone, and ran back to the car that was waiting for him. Inside were a couple of his crime buddies. They sped off and the police never found them.

That evening, Florida Man decided to never steal and rob ever again. He was done with that life. The terrified faces of the old man and his companion were haunting him more than any other victim. The old man’s face reminded him of his father before he died. The old lady’s screams echoed in his mind still. “I’m never going to rob and steal ever again,” he decided, and threw his gun into a lake as the sun went down.

Three days later he was a ghostly figure in the bedroom of his caring girlfriend. The hex was real, apparently. Florida Man was dying. He was propped up on her bed like a miserable creature in pain, unable to care for himself. Pillows and blankets could not stop the tremendous agony, and certainly could not stop his inevitable death.

She was trying to feed him anything that would stay down. Florida Man watched as she cut a mango in half and then cut cross sections into both sides, fanning them out into easy-to-eat chunks. He mustered up enough strength to say, “thanks bae,” and coughed up a little blood, which she wiped away.

Florida Man then explained everything to her. He hadn’t always been honest before, but now was the time. He told Florida Woman about the robbing and stealing curse, about the old man and how that incident changed him… he explained to her that he was going to die because of the hex. Florida Woman seized this moment of lucid honesty and posed a question that in her mind was always a source of suspicion and contempt:

“So, what about that cheating hex you told me about a long time ago? Did you really have to cheat on me all this time to stay alive?”

Florida Man tensed up a little and then sighed. Florida Woman seized him more tightly in her determined arms, hoping for an answer that did not validate the obvious.

“Honestly bae, I just made up that cheating hex. But I’m really dying, and I’m sorry…”

Florida Woman smiled a little, and remained very still. Her eyes dilated as pure rage manifested inside. “Yes you are dying,” she said calmly.

She picked up the knife she was using on the mango and dug into his jugular vein, sticking the point in and lifting the blade against the arteries and nerves alongside it, severing them all. He kicked a few times, but was too weak to escape or even scream. They stared into each others eyes with remorse and acceptance. His body convulsed as she held him tightly in place.

She held him until he died, and well after that. A single tear fell down her left cheek. She remained there, clutching his lifeless body until it became cold. The hex was fulfilled.

The End.

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The Burden of the Hex

Category: Folk Tales
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