#2

I lived this sheltered life for some time with nothing interrupting my routine. Just me, Chris, and Mother. Of course, with any sort of routine comes change. In my home schooling class one day, I must have been eleven or twelve, and I asked if I had a father. It more or less came out as, "Where is my daddy?"
Everyone in those books I had been reading had a father, so where was mine? She just looked at me, stunned. Her pale blue eyes turned almost to a gray which I had never seen before. She rose out of her chair and glided softly to the window. She sighed and began to twirl the ends of her chestnut brown hair around her delicate fingers.
"Boys," She began. "I think its time I told you about your father, and about your fate."
This was the only time I actually wanted to listen to my mother in a good long while.
"A long time ago, it was said that one of your ancestors was waiting for a train, since these were the first days of the railroad, and accidently tripped an old gypsy woman. They exchanged words, and it was believed that the woman put a curse on him, saying that no male in his family will ever make it past the age of thirty, ever. After she said that, I kind of just sat there, realizing that there was only eighteen more years of my existence before I came to an end. A question immediately shot up in the back of my mind.
"How did they die?" I’d take that question back now if I only knew what she was going to say next.
"Most of them were freak accidents," she said softly, looking down so she wouldn’t have to see the fear in our eyes. "A few met their end in car accidents just days before their 30th birthday, others were electrocuted, accidently shot, and only one made it to the end day."
"End day?" I asked.