The Curse

By Genevieve Lilith Vesta

vAngela has a gift or so people say, she does not think of the horror in her life as a gift. This is the journey of Angela's life and her supernatural abilities that tormented her world, nearly driving her to the brink of insanity and how she tried to deal with the curse.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Genevieve Lilith Vesta
• Release date: Feb 20, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215385852

Genevieve Lilith Vesta

Genevieve Lilith Vesta is a self-published author of the horror/occult, with a bit of fantasy, thriller, and mystery thrown into the mix. She was born and raised in Michigan but always dreamt of living in the South. Genevieve began her yearning for the written word thirty-nine years ago at the tender age of ten; she wrote mainly poetry and children’s stories in the beginning. As a child, Genevieve was plagued with reoccurring nightmares; so at twelve years old, after reading Pet Sematary from Stephen King, she began to reach deep into the darkness of her own mind and discovered the art of horror within herself and began to write stories about the nightmares that were buried deep inside her. In her teenage years, she became interested in witches and through research, the occult. Soon the love of her true genre was formed, the horror/occult. Genevieve’s first book though was a children’s fantasy called, Jessika and the Magic Staff, which was based on her daughter. At the age of thirty-seven, Genevieve’s dream of living in the South became a reality when she moved to Virginia with her husband and their three children. There she finally completed her second book, which is in her true genre of occult/horror called, Witches of Venus: Hell’s Grim Tyrant, and was the first book of four in the Witches of Venus series. Through the years, Genevieve tested her talents with different genres like romance, thriller, adventure, mystery and another children’s book; she also always stayed true to her heart and first calling, the love of the occult/horror genre. In the present, Genevieve is forty-nine years old and working on her new book, a science fiction mystery called, Mysterious Summer. She also is currently in the process of republishing her twelve books that have been self-published previously, with the help from an editor and a manager she did not have before.

Book preview

Prologue

1970

STRANGE AND HORRIFIC events had always plagued me for as long as I could remember. There is always a feeling of being watched when I am alone, a moving dark shadow just beyond my vision. I feel emotions when I am not actually experiencing them myself. My life is spent also seeing ghosts that always seem to try to communicate with me. I see visions and images in my mind that can never be explained; I witness fire before it happens and feel the death that flames can cause. There is always that demon that follows me, I am never alone.

Whether you believe me or not, it is up to you. I began a journal when I was still a child, and the highlights of the events that occurred before I began this writing will be put into chapters of the remembered year it happened, everything you read up till the present is my journal writings that I wrote faithfully throughout my life. So much happened during the years, it would be easier to understand the hell I live on a daily basis in one lump sum.

I am going to begin to really tell my story, starting in 1980, as I live it so you will see firsthand the horror I live through and let others decide what they will. You are wondering why that year? Well because maybe the year of 1980 was just a bad year and basically when shit really hit the fan. What I have gone through as a child and went through as an adult, always deep inside my soul I knew it was not over yet and only had begun. I never knew until now that I was so right. The demon will someday claim me, and this life will one day end, this memoir will become a testament of the curse that I was condemned to live throughout my life.

You will understand how my sanity could have been taking from me and left to rot in the depths of hell. Yes, I realize such graphic words, but it's true. That was my way of thinking about what I always called a curse, technically it was from what I now know today. I have grown so much in the short time since I been born. There is a reason for this cursed existence, so I thought writing a journal my whole life that maybe one day everything would finally make sense to me before it was too late.

Shall we start at the beginning; my name is Angela, but everyone calls me Angie. I was born on May 29, 1970, on Friday at 2:45pm. It was a normal birth, with normal parents and in a normal town, there was no sign that told anyone of the possibility of problems. So how did my life become so abnormal? Was I someone cursed in a past life, is something in my destiny leading me somewhere I do not want to be, or have I been marked by Lucifer himself and my fate is still undecided.

I grew up scared, ashamed, overwhelmed and very alone. I felt there was something wrong with me personally that was fucked up, but I realized it was a great evil that for some reason wanted to control me and caused chaos in my life.

In 1971, I lived in Elsie, Michigan with my parents. We lived together for three years, until my mom and dad divorced; my mother and I moved to St. Johns. The first three years of my life was uneventful or considering the young age anything that may have happened could be forgotten. This is the beginning of the end.

CHAPTER ONE

1975

THE EARLIEST RECOLLECTION of strange occurrences was when my mother and I lived with my grandmother, Jennie. She was my mom’s mother and when my parents divorced, we moved in with her in 1974. I do not exactly remember when everything began to happen to me, but before leaving that house in 1979 there was many unpleasant experiences I had inside grandma’s house.

My earliest memories were hearing knocking outside my bedroom window, it was not a loud bang nor a soft rapping; it sounded as if someone was knocking calmly on the door to visit. I would flee the room screaming in terror, my mom would go outside into the night to check; there would never be anyone there.

The next morning, my mother would go outside and check the ground beneath the window and there would never be any footprints in the dirt outside my window. Even after a rain and there was mud, there never was any evidence that someone stood outside my window. It was a nightly ritual for the mysterious knocker; a couple of knocks and it was over. It felt to me that whatever was doing it just wanted to let me know it was always there, maybe waiting.

I made sure to avoid that room at night, it always seemed to happen while I played in there before going to bed. I no longer played in the room in the evening, I would only sleep in there but that too had changed when something fiercer began to happen. The knocking was left unexplained.

If something knocking on my bedroom window every night was not enough, I began to see horrific images through the back door window. The back door of my grandma’s house was in the laundry room, and it opened to a patio in the backyard. There was a screen door on the outside and the inside was a wooden door with a square window that filled the top half of the door.

Many times, I would try to leave the house and see a disturbing image that would stop my heart and made me cringe with fear. Each time I would see the same thing that never changed and looked very real, as if it was truly there before me. I saw two people upsides down, looking at me through the window. It may sound to you outlandish, almost comical but to a very young child it was traumatic.

They appeared to be tied upside down by their ankles. All I could see was their heads and a little of their upper body; it was always the same two adults in front of the window looking in at me. When the door opened, usually by mom or grandma, they were not there anymore.

I would walk outside and look up with the hope of seeing two people on the roof laughing about their cruel joke to frighten a small child. Of course, nobody was on the roof; my mother and grandma never saw the ghastly image. I knew they would never go away; just like the knocking, I made sure to avoid the situation. Whenever I went outside to play, I always used the front door.

My mother never believed me about what I saw and heard, she just thought I had a very overactive imagination. That was a hell of a story for a small child of five to just makeup at the top of her head; what does she think I am a genius. My grandmother was a bit more understanding, I don’t know if she believed me or not, but she was very concerned and sympathetic to my