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The Dirty Room Curse

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Every family is dysfunctional to some degree. In truth, there isn’t a perfect family. I can’t say this for sure, as I don’t know every family, but one thing is certain: you must always care for them. This is very corny, I know, but the greatest wisdom is the one people know by heart. Sadly, I ignored it.

The tragedy started on a Wednesday, two weeks ago, during my family’s cleaning day. This bizarre ritual consists of cleaning the rooms on every Wednesday, every week. You may ask why I think this is bizarre. The truth is, many of my family members have some compulsive tendencies and this is one of the strongest in intensity. Everything is rearranged in every room and cleaned until no trace of dust can be found… okay, so this is an exaggeration, but you get the point.

The problem is that I’ve had enough of that. Yes, I’m a spoiled little brat, but not in this case. I’ve grown tired of this nonsense of having my things taken out of their places without my permission and losing the stuff important to me. It may look like nothing to outsiders, but living in this chaotic state would get to anyone sooner or later.

Because of this, I decided to play a “prank” on them. I wrote a small note and put it on the front of my door. It said, “Cursed be the one who cleans or rearranges anything in this room.” It’s in terrible taste, but I decided to use this because they have a problem with listening to reason. I decided to use something that would get them scared. I also felt a terrible anger while writing this note; I was practically in a daze.

I should have noticed it before, but I ignored it.

My family questioned me about the horrible note. I lied, saying I didn’t remember writing it. Needless to say, they were frightened. They didn’t mess with my room that day. A week passed.

I had something to do in town, so I took my stuff and left. They started cleaning shortly before I left, so I was anxious to see the results of my experiment. I returned home later and, before I entered my room, I noticed the note had been removed. I entered and found my room clean and rearranged. It seemed their willpower wasn’t as strong as I had predicted.

I asked my father about my room and he said my aunt had cleaned it. He also said she was incredibly scared after she finished with it, so she left quickly. I wondered why she was so scared of a simple note but, then again, they aren’t very normal. I shrugged it off. She did return later, though.

When night came, I quickly fell asleep and started to have disturbing dreams; nightmares would probably be a more appropriate word. In these dreams, everyone was having breakfast together. I would talk to them and they wouldn’t reply. I started shouting, but nothing else happened before I woke up.

I awoke, sweating terribly. The air around me was inexplicably cold. I tried opening the door, but it was stuck fast. No one heard me when I shouted and knocked on the door. The room, even outside it, was deadly quiet - almost ghost-like. I tried looking out the window, but couldn’t see anything. Then, I got an idea: I would write a note and slide it under my door.

I checked under the door, only to see another piece of paper there. I used a ruler to help me reach the paper and looked at it. It was the note I had written before. As I read it again, a sense of irony came over me and I wasn’t sure why. Suddenly, I felt myself disintegrating. My body was turning to dust and spreading through the room.

That was when I realized no one would come to clean the room again.

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