The Curse Of The Crying Boy

I wake up with the sun piercing through my eyelids, coming from the window. I open my eyes slowly and turn to notice my husband has already left bed. I look at the time. It’s 10:05 am.

I get out of bed, put my robe on, and head downstairs. Rene already let in the maid because my breakfast is waiting for me at the table. I take my plate and sit facing my sweet boy. Giovanni. I sit there and look at him hanging on the wall. I feel at peace when I look at him. There’s something about his face, it’s like I’ve known him my whole life and he belongs here.

I eat my breakfast, my husband walks in.

“Hi honey” he says entering the dining room. Leaning over to kiss me.

“Hi, where did you run off to this morning?” I kiss him back.

“I went to the auction to ask about the painting” he responds.

“And?” I ask, curious.

“You would not believe what they said” he says, handing me a paper.

“What is this?” I ask, confused to why he’s handing me a piece of paper.

“Just read it” he orders me.

I open the paper and right there is my sweet boy’s face. It’s an article from the sun in 1985, captioned ‘BLAZING CURSE OF THE CRYING BOY! Picture is a fire jinx’. I gasp. How is this possible? I feel pain in my heart. How can they do that to my sweet boy?

I continue reading it says..

‘Heartbroken, May and Ron Hall were blaming the curse of the crying boy yesterday after their home of 27 years was wrecked by fire. The couples had laughed off warnings that there was a jinx on their picture of a tot with tears running down his face. Ron’s fireman brother Peter told them he and his mates had seen the print too often in houses where there had been blazes. And he claimed the popular picture an estimated 50 000 have been sold in Britain— always seemed to survive the flames.’

How could this be.. the auctioneer said it was one of a kind? This is the original. The others must be copies of the original. Pain stricken my heart as I think of my sweet boy burning in those flames so young and having to relive it in those house fires. So sad.

“Okay and?” I look at my husband, confused.

“We are getting rid of this painting” he says, seriously.

“Why?” I say, shocked.

“Do you want our house to fucking burn down like the rest of them?” He says, harshly.

“Wait, let me do some research before” I say, buying me time to convince him to let me keep it.

He stays silent, looking at me with disbelief. I look at the article and then at my sweet boy. Impossible, my sweet boy is a curse. Look at him, he’s so sweet. He has been wronged his whole life by people he trusted and was in so much pain. I will not be one of these people. This is his home too.