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I don't know when it began, my best guess is when that witch crossed my path. Before that day the suns shine was beautiful, the lakes were clear and the grains of my farm were adequate for my hunger. The witch was the oddest thing I have ever seen, her house of stone appeared before me with a lightning bolt when the rains poured down as god cried for what foolish mistake I was about to make. As I was staring at the house of stone which looked like an arrowhead out she came, that wicked witch. She wore a cloak of darkness without even the slightest bit of mud. Her hair was shorter than a child's and the color of wheat, almost golden.
I was barely a man, my mother and father waited for me at the farm, praying to Christ the savior that I would return with the fish in my basket.
Forgive me mother, for the witch set this curse upon me that not even the lord above could release me of.
Forgive me father, my sickness led to the death of our dearest animals and our most beautiful grains.
And may both of you forgive me for not telling you about the witch and her wicked house of stone.
The wicked witch spoke to me, her voice was deep and booming. Not the sweet sound of a woman's quiet prayer but rather the sound of a local blacksmith.
"Hello weary traveler, might you help another lonesome soul?" My knees shook and I grew weak, the wicked witch was not a woman but rather a man who looked like a woman. The witch was curved as she was the finest wench, I croaked out a reply.
"Yes but how might I be of help to you?" And then the witch smiled with teeth as white as chalk or a freshly painted house.
"I'm neither man or woman, what might I be?" I know the answer to your riddle now, witch. You are Lucifer, you came to me and set sin into my soul. Sealing it deep into me with a lock that could never open.
"I don't know!" The witch scowled and with a furrowed brow returned to the house of stone, disappearing with a bolt of lightning. Blinding one of my eyes and deafening me.
I ran home, crying to my mother and father who I couldn't hear reassure me. They both died ages ago now and I am a man without anything to hold dear, no wife will hold me close and now wench could fulfill my heart of sin. Mother and father couldn't teach me how to keep the farm running and eventually it turned to a ruin. I now live in it, an awful abomination. With hair growing from my jaw and my arms, I know not why but I hate it. The hair stings to look at worse than anything else.
The first winter after I met the witch my body grew for the curse she set upon me. My bones grew like a stone gathers moss, it was a heavy pain as my legs grew to run for whatever that wicked witch might have planned for me. I couldn't look upon my own body without feeling disgust. I once awoke to my nether region being wet and slimy within my hose, with hair even there that stung like nettles. I screamed and yelled, my mother and father held me close when they heard me. The hair on my head grew and I felt happy for a while, until that summer.
Perhaps on the day I met her, I saw myself once again. My reflection in the lake as I was fishing, I had started to grow a beard like my father.
"THAT ISN'T ME!" I yelled, I started ripping chunks of the hair off as best as I could. I clawed at myself like a wild beast until I bled, tearing at my beard, my arms and armpits. I cried, wailed like a newborn babe. I damned the Witch for setting upon me that idea but surely the witch couldn't hear me.
"HELP ME MOTHER! THAT ISN'T ME IN THE POOL, IT CAN'T BE!" I tore more and more until I was bleeding everywhere, my arms had red lines from where I scratched at it. I returned home once the sun was starting to set, still crying and bleeding. My father looked into my basket and saw that I had no fish. He hit me across the face and my mother comforted me as I cried, she helped me take my clothes off and washed my wounds. Every bit of water stung like a hornet.
A while later my father took me to the tavern and for a second I saw myself. She was beautiful, a woman with a nose like mine, long hair and modest curves. She was being accosted by some rough looking men and I felt my heart shatter, she wanted to run and to be free. My father put a hand on my shoulder and gave me a tankard of ale, a smile across his aged face. We drank and I kept looking towards her eventually my father moved to her and the rough men left her and then they both came back to the table. She smiled at me and I couldn't help but smile back. My heart burned with what I thought was love.
It was not.
The witch had set upon me the evil of jealousy towards her.
She wasn't rich, she wasn't beautiful by what many others might have thought. She was scarred with a cut right under her lip and a crooked nose like mine but still my heart burned. My heart burned with nothing but avarice, I did not want her I wanted to be her. She spoke but I couldn't hear her, I could barely even see her with my one good eye. May god forgive me for doubting him and for believing the witch but maybe just maybe the almighty made a mistake when he molded my body to be a man.
We drank, we danced and we sang. The night was growing long and my father patted me on the back, I turned to leave home with him but he shook his head and pointed at the fair lady, she took my hand and led me away into a room.
She kissed me and I pulled away, I didn't even know her name. I didn't love her, I envied her.
She grabbed onto my shoulders and pulled me closer and kissed me again and when the kiss ended she smiled. The sweetest smile in the world, more beautiful than a sunrise, sweeter than a strawberry. Prettier than any painting ever made or that could be made. She was truly one of god's creations, perfection made form.
I started to cry and she held me close and with hate in my heart I prayed, I prayed that the witch would burn in eternal damnation for pushing this sin of jealousy against women into me.
She reached underneath my hose and I grabbed her hand away, disgusted at even the thought of her perfection being tainted by my sinful body. The fair lady didn't seem to mind as she held me closer, we stayed like that for what felt like years.
My disgusting body of sin strayed further and further from her in the years to come, I was born a man and I will die as one as much as it pains me to say. The hairs on my arms grow like the quills of a hedgehog, my bones jut out from underneath my skin like stones in a linen bag. My beard is long now and I can't even cover my eyes without being aware of it, my legs are like a bundle of nettles settled over a broken branch with the bones ever so visible. The hair on my head is thinning and greasy, covered in lice and I am followed by flies like the pile of human dung I am.
Damn you, wicked witch for making me like this. May god forgive me for believing he made a mistake, I'm an old man now, a hermit and if I could go back to when I first saw that witch I would run far far away.
I am a man, old, withered and delusional.
I am a despicable creature that goes against god.