A curse?

Seriously, I sometimes worry about that. I mean, curses. I am a rationalist, I do not believe in magic, etc.

Yet, some, primitive part of my brain does believe. Like the cowardly lion, it chants I do believe in spooks. I do. I do…

And that part of brain fears that someone or something has, at some time, cursed me. I was guilty of some unknown trespass. I offended someone. Perhaps it was when I was child…and a distasteful child I must have been. Always knowing the answer. Always putting up my hand with a comment in class. Always the Little Professor. (I deserve a curse, if that's the case.)

As I say, it is only that little piece in my head that believes any such thing. Normally, I ignore its shrill little voice.

But…

Well, let us hope that either it (that part of me) is entirely wrong, or that, somehow, by the intervention of some angel or kindly crone, the curse evaporates like winter's chill on a spring day.

Or a moment of night terror in the dark. Burned away by the rising sun.