Journal Entry 31

June 15th, 1946

It did not take long for word to get around about Cyrus and myself.  I am not entirely certain how the locals got wind of us, but within a few short days of entering our apartment, working men and their families from somewhere further in the desert began gracing our door.   

At first I thought nothing much about the state of the men.  They appeared to be some sort of laborers, stricken with a fever.  Their families followed suit, the youngest children being the hardest hit.  I assumed it was an airborne flu, but Cyrus became concerned as he translated over and over again, the circumstances of how these men became ill.

What had started out as me trying to treat a sickness, became the two us traveling to investigate an archeological dig.  I was a bit disappointed to leave our home, even for half a day.  It was not that I missed it already, but that I was in the middle of painting our bedroom.  I understand that is rather selfish of me, but I am enjoying decorating and would like to be finished.

At any rate, Cyrus believed the source of the sickness was a cursed object, rather than anything that I could properly treat with medicine.  Indeed, I was beginning to believe him.  Nothing I did had any effect on the ill people, and the children in particular were growing gravely sick in a short period of time.  Many of them had fallen into coma-like states, and I had no medical way to explain the phenomena.

Despite our apartment being small, it had turned into a make-shift supernatural hospital.  While we traveled to the dig site, there were four children laid out on cots, fighting for their lives.  I felt it was best for the families not to interact with any people.  We had no idea if they could actually spread whatever curse might have been placed upon them, and so better safe than sorry.

Cyrus questioned the head of the dig and found rather quickly that the men who were ill, had actually been fired for stealing objects.  He asked what had been taken, and among some pots and other relics, there was a talisman missing.  I wonder why it is always a piece of jewelry that has a curse placed upon it.  One of these days we are going to find something truly odd, like an ancient pet rock that turns people into toads.  But I digress.

We journeyed back to our home and found that the children had taken a turn for the worse.  The adults were still quite ill.  They were fevered, unable to eat, lethargic, and otherwise shown signs of flu that would eventually dehydrate them to the point of death.  However, the children were already mere days from dying without a proper cure.

Cyrus became vocal, demanding to know where the talisman was.  Even without having a great grasp of the language, I could tell one man was vehemently denying any knowledge.  Of course, my beloved can be quite persuasive, and the man broke down in tears.  I do not know what was said, but Cyrus disappeared in a blur, returning a few hours later with a glowing necklace in the shape of some sort of canine.  

I am not certain why this worked, but my beloved brushed the talisman over the heads of each child, and they began showing signs of improvement.  Then, he took the crying man by the collar, and the two disappeared out the door.  It was several hours later when my lover returned.  He came back, but the man and the talisman did not.

His widow did not cry for him.  I watched as Cyrus spoke with her over their son and daughter who were no longer fevered, but still sleeping.  She sat quietly, her hands clasped in her lap.  She did not look sad, she looked…calm.  I had no idea what to make of the ordeal.  When it was all over, the families thanked us and said they would pay us with what they had.  I tried to convey that we needed no payment, but Cyrus shook his head at me.  Later he told me that it was necessary for them to feel as if they could pay off the debt.  I suppose I understand.

So far we have been visited three times.  We have been gifted with two baskets of tomatoes, two baskets of potatoes, and a very lovely rug.  The rug I spread out in my office area, and as for the food stuffs, it wasn’t as if we’ve done much shopping.  Cyrus enjoys cooking and he has taken to trying to figure out what to do with that many tomatoes and potatoes.  It seems to have made him happy, and it amuses me the way he dances while he cooks.  I know it is lewd, but I do enjoy watching his ample backside while he is hunkered over the stove.

I think this is going to work.  I’m happy.  Cyrus is happy.  We’re happy.  I believe for the first time since the war I am actually entertaining the idea that is alright for me to be happy.  We do not need to travel around for the supernatural mysterious to find us.  We can clearly bed down right here and still make a difference.  Not only that, we can be comfortable together.  I do not know what tomorrow brings, but I know I love him and I’m starting to believe that he loves me and ‘forever’ may actually be a possibility.  It’s sketchy, and there are still those skittish lingering doubts, but for the first time, I’m truly starting to believe.

Until next time, Journal.

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