I'm writing a fantasy novel in which a character has a curse that makes his blood the source of all magic. This curse only afflicts one person at a time. When that person dies, someone else inherits the curse. This has been going on for a thousand years and the current cursed individual has been held prisoner for 15 years, during which time his
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I had anemia due to constant blood loss when I was a teenager, for about a year and a half, before I finally asked for help, and it was not fun at all. Even when I had enough red blood cells by number, which wasn't usually, my body had been fighting so hard to make enough that they were small and thus not as capable of doing their jobs.
I was often cold, so very cold, and often I craved food, especially meat and bone marrow and I chewed on ice all the time, but I wasn't often hungry, if you can see the difference. And I was tired. Oh, God, I was so tired. When I was awake I was alert enough, but once in a while I would just wilt suddenly and fall asleep in class, like I'd just run out of gas. I slept for ten hours a night. I slept for two hours after coming home from school. I napped in math class every day, before lunch, when my energy was at its lowest. I was weaker than I should've been. I was a strong girl, and in reasonable shape, but if I did anything taxing I would get short of breath so easily. Not like you are when you've run uphill and your lungs are burning, but short of breath like you simply cannot breathe enough air, like there isn't enough oxygen in the air at all. I had a hard time concentrating sometimes, and I was often confused. I couldn't ever remember my locker combination, and then, as it went on, I would forget where I was supposed to be, what my next class was. I still have nightmares about having to go and ask for my schedule . . . again . . . halfway through the last semester, when you'd expect that I would KNOW. But mostly I was just tired. All the time. Bone deep sleep wouldn't touch it tired.
But of all the things it was, it was not physically painful. At least there's that.
I got better, and, somewhat ironically perhaps, now give blood whenever I can.
I hope that's helpful in some way. If you have other questions, I'll be glad to answer them to the best of my ability to remember.
I'd think after fifteen years of it, he'd be pretty damn miserable. I don't think his mind would be gone, especially if they are trying to take care of him (him being the goose with the golden eggs), but he sure as hell wouldn't be at his best. Poor energy, no endurance, tired, cranky, and very likely depressed.
Sounds like an interesting novel! Good luck!
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And that someone who was tired, had no endurance, slept a lot, and was depressed would sure as hell be a lot more manageable than someone who wasn't. So, depending on your scenario, keeping him slightly anemic might suit their ends pretty well.
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Before anaemia, I was slim, reasonably fit and healthy. After anaemia, I was fat, depressed and exhausted. I just wanted to take to my bed and sleep forever.
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