FFM 2021 Day 31: The Price of Touch

This isn’t my body. My reflection in the glassy pond is a stranger, with dark eyes and darker hair. Next to me, Midas touches his face like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. He turns to the witch and asks, “What have you done to us?” His voice echoes strangely against the cave walls.

The witch doesn’t say anything. He just points to two slumped figures below the dias. Midas’ eyes widen when he sees the gold and black robes on the figures. I can barely hide my own surprise. We run to the figures and I push aside the black robes on one body. I yelp and stumble back - my own face gazes at me, empty. This means the one in gold robes must be Midas’ body.

“What is this?” Midas demands. “This isn’t what we asked for!”

“Isn’t it?” The witch responds. “To be free of the curse that is your touch, is that not what you asked for?” He points again, this time to our horses. “Lay your hands on your beasts and you will see that your wishes have indeed been granted.”

A shiver runs down my spine. Midas doesn’t move, but I have to know. I approach my horse slowly and raise a hand, hovering over its mane. I glance at the witch, suddenly doubtful. The witch cocks his head to the side and gives me a shallow smile. His gaze is taunting, as if to say, if you don’t try, you’ll never know. Midas’ gaze, too, is locked on my hand. I take a deep breath. Then I stroke my horse. Nothing happens.

I stroke my horse again. She’s still alive. Midas is by my side in an instant, hand resting atop his horse. Again, nothing happens. Midas laughs softly and runs his fingers through his horse’s hair. Then he frowns. He asks the witch, “But why are our own bodies dead? Who are the people we inhabit now?”

I want to answer - to tell him it doesn’t matter who we are now, only that we are not who we were. The witch waves a hand and says, “Nothing that need concern you. They owed a debt. They have paid it.”

Midas doesn’t have the words to reply. He’s frozen, one hand still on his horse. Seeing this, the witch chuckles, “I can still undo the wish, if you desire. Return you to the body that turns all it touches into gold?”

Anger flashes over Midas’ face, “Why couldn’t you just remove the curse from our bodies? Why sacrifice other people for our sake?” My hand digs into my horse’s hair. I want Midas to stop speaking.

Thankfully, the witch responds, “You wished, I granted. You did not specify the method. But why the concern? In your body, you were an unwilling, cursed king. In this body, you are unknown, free, and normal. I do not see any issues. And I do not think she does, either.” He motions at me.

Midas studies me. I’m standing pressed against my horse, hands buried in her mane. Midas says, “Mallory?”

I whisper, addressing both Midas and the witch, “My wish has been granted. Name your price.” If it meant never having people avoid me like a disease again, never being whispered about, never being jeered at again. If I could hold a flower, pet an animal, and touch someone without restraint - any price was worth paying.

The witch smiles. “Finally, a grateful soul. You are fortunate. My price is cheap today - let me keep your original, cursed bodies.”

Midas opens his mouth, possibly to ask what the witch wants our bodies for, but I speak first, “Yes. You can have them. But both mine and Midas’ royal guards were not far behind when we arrived. It may be difficult to explain if they find our bodies here.” Midas gives me a strange look.

The witch smiles again. “Your concern is sweet, but unnecessary. I’d be more worried about the guards finding peasants riding the royal runaways’ horses. If you’re running, you had best be on your way.” He tilts his chin at the cave entrance.

I can see Midas warring with himself, conscience against desire. I briefly consider dragging him onto his horse. But it’s his own decision, in the end. I bow to the wizard and mount my horse.

When I reach the cave entrance, I hear the faint clip-clop of Midas’ horse behind me. I smile and spur my horse into a gallop.

One year later

I lean against Midas’ shoulder. The tavern’s balcony overlooks a stunning lake that is even more beautiful as the sun sinks into it. The conversation of some customers drifts up from below.

“...missing, bodies and all. Their horses turned up a few weeks later, all the supplies and money gone, like they were robbed.”

“None of the major thief bands are in that area, though.”

“That’s right. But it’s an area known for strange magical occurrences. Soon after they disappeared, the guards found patches of dead or golden forest - everything within a certain perimeter would be either completely dead or completely turned into gold. But they couldn’t find the King or the princess anywhere.”

“And what about now?”

“Same thing. Some braver folk enter the mountain hoping to find a patch of gold, but more often than not run back babbling about the forest dying or being haunted.”

“Ugh. How creepy. Let’s stop talking about it.”

The conversation turns to something else. I nuzzle into Midas’ neck and murmur, “So that’s what the witch wanted our bodies for. Seems like the curses stayed in the flesh even though we were dead. Wonder if giving him my body was a good idea.”

Midas strokes my cheek and says, “Does it matter?” I shake my head and pull him into my arms. He’s right. It doesn’t matter. Even if the witch leveled our kingdoms with our curses, it wouldn’t matter.

For nothing more than the chance to be ordinary and hold one another without fear, some might think it irresponsible to disregard all consequences. Inhuman to cast aside our positions so easily. Some would also say we should be sorry to have abandoned all those who loved us.

But neither of us were sorry, were we?