The Rusted Needle: A Birthday, a Curse, and the Grandmother Who Came Back
Jenny and her husband David were on their way home after a lively evening out celebrating his birthday. The dinner had been a grand event—colleagues, friends, and distant relatives all gathered at David’s favorite restaurant. Many of the guests were unfamiliar to Jenny, but she trusted her husband’s choices without question. She never liked to argue. Agreeing with David had always been simpler than creating conflict.
“Do you have the apartment keys?” he asked as they approached the door.
Jenny reached into her handbag, fumbling through its contents. Suddenly, a sharp stab of pain shot through her finger, and she dropped the bag in surprise.
“Ouch!”
David turned to her, frowning. “What now?”
“I pricked my finger on something,” she muttered, inspecting the wound.
“You carry your whole life in that bag. Not surprised something bit back.”
Without protest, Jenny retrieved the keys, and they stepped inside. The prick was quickly forgotten—her feet ached, her head was heavy with fatigue, and sleep was all she wanted.
By morning, the pain had worsened. Her finger was red and swollen, and she recalled the strange jab from the night before. Rummaging through her purse again, she found a long, rusted needle nestled at the bottom. Confused and unsettled, she threw it away and cleaned the wound.
By noon, she was feverish and aching all over. She called David.
“I think I picked up something. I’m burning up, my head’s pounding. That needle last night—it was filthy.”
“Jenny, go see a doctor. What if it’s tetanus?”
“I cleaned the cut. I’ll be fine.”
But she wasn’t. Her body ached, her skin felt clammy, and by evening, she could barely stand. She took a cab home, collapsed onto the couch, and slipped into a deep, unsettling sleep.
In her dream, an old woman appeared. Jenny somehow knew it was her grandmother Anne—though she had died when Jenny was very young, and Jenny barely remembered her. Yet, this figure felt undeniably familiar. Anne’s voice was calm but urgent. She led Jenny through a field, showing her plants to gather, herbs to steep, warning her that a darkness had entered her body—a curse meant to destroy her.
“You must fight it,” the old woman whispered. “Someone wanted you gone. But you must stay.”
Jenny woke with a gasp, her body drenched in sweat. The room spun. David had just walked in the door.
“You look awful,” he said. “Go look at yourself.”
She did. The mirror showed a hollow version of herself—gray skin, lifeless eyes, and the energy drained from her bones. That bright, smiling woman from last night was gone.
“I dreamed about Granny Anne,” she said slowly. “She told me I’m cursed. That someone wants me dead.”
David shook his head. “You’re delirious. We’re going to the hospital.”
“No. Granny said doctors can’t help me.”
For the first time in their marriage, they argued—shouting, voices raw. When he tried to drag her to the car, she resisted, stumbling and hitting her head on the table edge. Furious and confused, David stormed out.
Later that night, he returned, apologizing. Jenny’s voice was quiet but firm.
“Take me to Granny’s village tomorrow.”
In the morning, she looked worse than ever—ashen, weak, barely able to stand. David pleaded again, but she insisted.
They drove for hours. Jenny slept most of the ride, but as they neared the village, she opened her eyes and whispered, “We’re here.”
She stepped onto the grass and fell to her knees. But something told her she was exactly where she needed to be. She recognized the spot from her dream. Gathering the herbs as instructed, they returned home. David followed her directions and brewed the concoction.
Jenny drank it. Slowly, something changed. The swelling eased, her fever broke, and a strange black tint appeared in her urine. It was horrifying—yet she wasn’t scared.
“The poison is leaving,” she murmured, remembering Granny’s voice.
That night, Granny returned in a dream. “The curse came through that needle,” she said. “The tea will help, but only for now. The one who did this must be revealed.”
Granny explained how to uncover the culprit.
“Buy a fresh pack of needles. Enchant the largest one with these words:
‘Spirits of shadow, veil of night, reveal the truth, bring it to light.’
Place the needle in David’s bag. The one who meant you harm will prick themselves—and be revealed.”
Jenny obeyed. She performed the ritual and slipped the needle into his work bag. When David came home that evening, she asked, “How was your day?”
“Fine… weird, actually. Irene from the other department reached into my bag to grab my keys. She pricked herself on a needle I swear wasn’t there before. She looked furious.”
Jenny’s stomach tightened. “Irene? Was she at your birthday dinner?”
“Yes. She’s just a coworker.”
But Jenny knew. Someone had planted that rusty needle in her bag. Irene had tried to take her place—using magic when charm didn’t work.
That night, Granny appeared once more.
“She’s the one,” she said. “Her envy turned to poison. She wanted your place. Now, she suffers what she meant for you. But be cautious—this kind of darkness doesn’t always vanish. It waits.”
Over the next few days, Jenny heard that Irene had fallen ill, doctors mystified by her condition.
Jenny asked David to drive her to the village again—this time to visit Granny Anne’s grave. She hadn’t been there since the funeral. Wearing gloves, she cleared the weeds and placed fresh flowers.
On the headstone was the face from her dreams—aged and kind, with sharp eyes and a knowing smile.
Sitting on the bench nearby, Jenny whispered, “Granny, I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. I thought the visits from others were enough. But I know now… you never stopped watching over me.”
And just then, the breeze shifted. Gentle, warm, like a hand on her shoulder. Jenny turned—no one was there. But in her heart, she knew Granny was smiling once again.