The Anderson's

 The Anderson family has been finding solutions to the cures that have been placed on every female child in the family. Rumors say it all started with the great-great-grandfather, the founder of the family. He was a dangerous womanizer who slept with any woman, married or single, even those like daughters to him. It's so terrible that not a week goes by without an incident concerning Pa. Anderson, as he is fondly called.

They called him the Goal Scorer, a name whispered with a mix of fear and admiration. Fathers warned their daughters about him, his reputation preceding him like a shadow. Pa. Anderson lived on the village outskirts, his modest home reached only by a bushy path. The single-room hut, with its mud walls and thatched roof, held little more than a bed in one corner and a pile of clothes in the other. One sunny morning, he emerged, contemplating a trip to his farm. The need to harvest his crops weighed heavily—no work meant no food. Sighing, he inspected his farming tools, a rueful expression clouding his face as he noted their worn condition. He mentally filed the task of visiting the town blacksmith after his work in the fields.

He set off for his farm, an hour's walk from his solitary home. The journey was peaceful; his isolated location spared him the usual village chatter, saving him precious time. Reaching the farm, he was met with a disheartening sight—a field choked with weeds. He lamented his neglect, the yam plants nearly swallowed by vegetation as tall as his knees. He began harvesting, intending to weed simultaneously. Initially, engrossed in his work, he didn't notice the singing. Only when he paused to wipe the sweat from his brow did the captivating melody reach him. His heart pounded as he listened, the voice weaving a spell, soothing his aching bones and stirring his soul. Slowly, captivated, he moved towards the source of the enchanting sound.

conflict with her mother sent Adora fleeing to her beloved morning sanctuary in the bush, a place where she could freely express her heart's desires through song. The argument centered on marriage—Adora's yearning for a love match clashed with her mother's plans for an arranged union. Her song poured out her frustration and longing:

I yearn for a touch, a touch of love, To soar like the wind, with a touch of love. I wake each morn, questioning love's embrace, All my life, I've longed for love's sweet grace. All my life, this yearning fills my soul, Love resides in my heart, while duty takes its toll. My heart cries, "Seek love!" Duty's voice commands, Confusion reigns; divine help I demand. I yearn for a touch, a touch of love, To fly, to be free, with a touch of love.

Pa. Anderson was overwhelmed by desire upon seeing Adora. Her beauty, her voice like silk, and her fair skin captivated him. He struggled with his impulses, then, consumed by his feelings, he hurt Adora. Unbeknownst to him, Adora was the cherished daughter of the water goddess, destined for a sacred vow. She was being prepared for a promise made a millennium ago: to remain pure and untouched for the dreadful King of the Isle. 

Pa. Anderson returned home with the few yams he had harvested, unable to shake the premonition that something was amiss with the girl he had assaulted. He sat at the roadside, weeping, knowing his actions were wrong. He cursed his reckless life for the crime he had committed, as the girl was a virgin, evident by the bleeding.

He considered going back, but shame prevented him from facing her again. He adjusted the yams on his shoulder and reluctantly made his way home, praying for forgiveness.

Adora felt the pain between her legs as she wept. She never believed such a thing could happen and cursed the day she dreamed of love, which had led her to rebel against her grandmother. She cried until she had no more tears and considered ending her life due to the shame, but she lacked the courage to strangle herself or use an object to strike her head. With a staggering step, she stumbled toward the river, just a few meters from where her innocence was destroyed. She entered the river and appeared before her grandmother, her eyes red and her step limping. She fell at her feet. "Grandma, I am dead."

Her grandmother looked at her and smelled the blood. "Whose blood is this?"

"It is my blood, Grandma," Adora said, and fresh tears spilled down her cheeks.

"What happened?"

Her grandmother then understood. With shaky legs and a hard breath, she sat on her throne. "Who dared violate you, my dearest child, the apple of my eyes, the one who brings me joy?"

"I do not know him; he ambushed me when I was unaware and overpowered me."

"Give me your hand and look into my eyes," her grandmother said, extending her right hand to her granddaughter.

The goddess grasped Adora's hand with her right hand, and with her left, she traced a symbol in the air above Adora's head. "Look into my eyes without blinking," she commanded.

Adora met her grandmother's gaze, and a shudder ran through her as power surged within her. The terrible event unfolded before her.

The goddess ended the spell when she had seen enough, her expression hardening into a snarl as she turned to her granddaughter and slapped her. "You fool! Do you know what you've done?"

Adora collapsed to the floor, tears streaming down her face. "I did nothing, Grandma."

The goddess sighed, kneeling to embrace her granddaughter, offering comfort. "That fool will pay, not just to me, but to the King of the Isle as well."

"But I don't want to marry him," Adora wailed.

"Hush, my daughter."

Pa Anderson returned home and went to his barn to store the few yams he had harvested. He sighed, then went to the well beside the barn to draw water for his bath. As he prepared to undress, he noticed a bloodstain on the front of his pants. Memories he'd tried to suppress surged back, hitting him hard. He staggered, shaking his head to clear the fog. He stood for a moment, eyes closed, reflecting on his sin.

After his bath, he prepared a bowl of porridge, sitting in his favorite chair to eat. After a few spoonfuls, he stood to add salt, but noticed the room growing colder. He looked around nervously, wondering about the sudden change in weather, as it was Autumn.

He tried to ignore the odd feeling of danger, lifting his spoon to his mouth. After adding the salt, he felt a sharp pain in the back of his hand. He looked at the arrow sticking out of his hand, more surprised than shocked.

He hissed, and before he could shout, air filled his mouth. He jumped from his seat, and a fist slammed into his stomach, doubling him over, unable to shout, gasping. Before he could understand what was happening, a fist slammed into his nose, breaking it and spraying blood. He fell on his back, choking on his blood, gasping for breath.

A hand materialized from thin air, seizing his nose and resetting it. Pa Anderson's eyes widened as he watched the hand creep toward his right. The arrow, embedded in his flesh, was yanked free. Pa Anderson, unable to scream due to the air trapped in his mouth, convulsed. "You will pay for your crime," a voice echoed from the unseen.

"What crime?" Pa Anderson asked.

"How dare you question me," the voice said, and a fist slammed into Pa Anderson's stomach with such force that he wheezed, spraying spittle everywhere. Pa Anderson fell to the floor, whimpering.

"Please, I can take it no more," he begged, crying.

"You can take it no more?" the voice said furiously, "How dare you!"

"Please, it was the work of the devil," Pa Anderson said.

"What devil?"

"I don't know," he replied, while his eyes roamed about, trying to see who was dealing with him.

"Oh, you blame the devil for your crime now, eh?"

"Well... I was not myself."

And at that moment, the goddess appeared to Pa Anderson, and he blinked rapidly, trying to come to terms with what he was seeing.

"Who are you?" he asked, not taking his eyes off her.

But she just stood there, looking at him, with a snarl.

"How dare you question the goddess," the voice said, with a punch on the right side of Pa Anderson's face, stunning him. He was given no time, as the voice ordered him to kneel and bow to the goddess.

Pa Anderson knelt in a form of Chinese Kowtow, begging the goddess to spare his life and forgive him.

The goddess looked at him and said, "You are the human who ruined the life of my granddaughter and now the peace of the sea?"

"I was misled."

"Silence! You just broke the pact I have with the King of the Isle, and you are saying you were misled when you have a life of debauchery?"

"Please forgive me; I will do anything to amend my mistake."

"Anything?"

"Yes."

"Including your life?"

"I don't want to die," Pa Anderson said, crying.

"You're already a dead man," the goddess said, looking down at Pa Anderson.

"Please don't kill me, it was the work of the devil."

"How dare you blame others for your actions?" she snarled. She struck him with a powerful magical force, sending him flying to hit the wall of his hut. "Get up!" she roared.

Pa Anderson stood on shaky legs, blood streaming down from a cut on his scalp. He blinked, trying to orient himself through the dizziness.

"You will pay with blood for your crime, you and your entire generation, now and in the future," she roared, spittle flying from her mouth and hitting his bed with a hissing sound.

"Please, they are innocent of my crime; don't let my sin fall upon them," he pleaded on his knees.

"Shut up, your begging will not move me, and it will only enrage me further."

"You made the wrong move when you molested my granddaughter. She is betrothed to the King of the Isle, and he will demand recompense for your crime, or you will be his slave forever in a tortured chamber below the sea."

At this, Pa Anderson shuddered and began crying, knowing he had no escape. With a resigned look, he bowed his head, accepting whatever punishment awaited him.

The goddess used a spell to hold him in place. With her index finger, she drew a symbol on his chest, and as blood flowed, she cursed him. "From this day forward, I curse you," she said with each line she drew. "Every firstborn male child shall be taken as a sacrifice, and every female child will be denied the pleasure of a man. Every firstborn male child they bear will be taken to the King of the Isle."

Pa Anderson was shocked, not by the pain carved into his chest, but by the enormity of the curse. "That is a lot to be taken from me," Pa Anderson said, a sad look on his face.

"Do you prefer to be a slave?" the goddess asked.

"No!"

"Then let the consequences of your actions begin today," she said.

Pa Anderson awoke from a deep sleep and rubbed his temple. He wondered if it was just a dream or... He suddenly pulled his shirt up and looked at his chest. He inhaled sharply when he saw the symbol, which looked like a trident with three heads on the sharp end.

In the present day, the Anderson family sought a way to lift the curse of the goddess, a history revealed in the diary of Pa Anderson the First. It was a somber moment for the family, witnessing the curse's devastating effects.

One of the children suggested consulting a water shrine, hoping to find a solution. "If it was a water goddess," they reasoned, "then we should seek guidance from her followers."

Some agreed, but others were wary of engaging with native powers. "I don't think we should deal with those people again after what our forefather did," one said. "I believe we can find help in the house of God."

"These days, almost 95% of the men of God are fake. They'll just ask for more money, and we'll never see the end of this problem, some may even make it worse," countered a tall woman with porcelain-smooth skin, bright eyes, and teeth as white as snow, adorned with piercings on her nose and triple earrings.

"Not all are fake," argued the person who initially proposed the church. "A friend introduced me to one."

"I think we need to start from the root cause," another suggested. "I propose we go to the village, since that's where it all began."

The others agreed, but the one who favored the church frowned, remaining silent.