The Wrath of Loki

Cryptic Curses

It grew dark outside while we sailed to Niagara Falls. We have been on this quest for five days, and so we have four days left. I hope that we can make it. It will take until noon tomorrow to get to Niagara. Hazel agreed to take first watch, and Blitzen the second. I headed to my room and planned on getting a good night's sleep — and I wished that it were that simple. As I closed the door of my room, I felt two slimy hands wrap around my neck and start to suffocate me.

I tried my best to claw away at them; I scratched at my neck and even started bleeding. Eventually, the hands released, and I slid down the door. I took deep breaths. I turned my head to the left and saw the full length mirror next to me. I saw myself, my hair a mess, my eyes wild, and my neck bleeding from scratch marks. I then turned my head to look forward, and I saw the face of the terrifying arai smiling the same wicked smile that she had whilst I stabbed her. I could feel her breath because she was so close; my stray hairs flew about and tickled my scalp.

But she is dead. I snapped my head to face the mirror and saw that she didn't have a reflection. Okay, I am just hallucinating. I faced forward again and saw the arai once again. Her smile faded but was replaced my a maniacal smirk that indicated she was up to no good. She reached her hand out and spread her fingers over my face as if she were in slow motion. It all felt so real.

I was confused, mystified by this cryptic curse. Of all of the things that's she could have cursed me with, this was what she chose. Why? I let silent tears stream down my cheeks as I opened my eyes again. I saw the arai reaching for the light switch, and soon enough, the lights were turned off. My room now matched the eternal darkness of the night sky that sat just outside of my room upon this floating ship.

I heard banging all around my room. I heard the howling of the wind. I heard the unsheathing of swords and the cutting of skin. I heard the screams of my friends. But I knew it was all fake. I saw before me an image that confused me yet again. I watched myself stab me. I was watching the arai die from her eyes. I felt my own blade stab through my stomach. I felt blood cascading down my shirt and through my skin like a waterfall let loose gallons upon gallons of water. I felt drained. I lifted a shaky hand and placed it over my wound. I felt a wet substance in between my fingers.

I knew it was fake, yet it felt so real. I heard a catastrophic cry come from each of the four corners of my room. Each cry sounded the same. It was the arai, screaming four different times. She had died four different times. I watched as three other people killed me.

One was a man older in nature, but younger in spirit. The man fought bravely upon the battle field. He wore the traditional Roman battle armor, and there were chariots in the background. He fought off a drachnae and then turned to face this abomination of nature. He decapitated the arai. I felt as though my head disconnected from my body. I watched as the man's skin started to turn inside out. His skin peeled off like wrapping paper on a gift, or rather like the skin of a snake. His skin was now gone and all that he was, was a skeleton with muscles and veins and cartilage. He died, needless to say.

Second was an old woman, she backed herself into a corner in her kitchen. She was obviously petrified. She wore a nightgown that resembled the ones that the 1850s housewives wore in America. She took her husband's rifle off of the shelf above her head and stabbed the arai through the heart. As the arai started to disintegrate, the woman began to freeze in place. Her mouth began to open in an attempt to cry for help, to call for anyone.

Lastly, was someone who I recognized. He stabbed arai after arai after arai. A beautiful blonde wandered aimlessly on a cliffside. This man, with shaggy, jet black hair and sea green eyes fought with a fire inside of him that was untouchable. His drive for victory and undeniable loyalty was clearly seen. He sliced at the arai and decapitated them and stabbed them. When it came to my turn, he simply slashed my chest. I disintegrated and watched as he grew weaker and weaker, colder and colder, and any other type of curse that was placed upon him. It was becoming too much to handle.

I know that he made it through. Jason had told me of the River Phletegon and that it healed arai curses. If only there was one in the land of the living. I continued to hear the howling wind and the screaming innocents. I felt slimy hands grab at my bare arms and legs. I was pulled across my room as I clawed at the ground, at furniture, at anything to keep me from moving, but to no avail.

I felt a fire burn inside of me as if I had swallowed burning coals. I then felt as though my skin was being turned inside out. I felt as though I was freezing while calling for help. I felt it all. I felt everything. I was slowly being dragged across my room whilst I grabbed onto anything that I could. I grabbed onto the leg of my desk and bed, my wardrobe, my desk chair, anything that could keep me stationary.

I was propped up against my wall next to the window, facing the interior of my room. I saw what appeared to be ghosts flying around my room, and once they saw that I saw them, they came rushing toward me like a whirlwind. I felt the slimy hands turn me around so that I stared out of the window at the dazzling night sky. I watched as the stars got smaller as I was ripped from my smallest moment of tranquility and pulled into the eternal darkness, the void of demons that I once loved, and into a seemingly never ending embrace. I let loose an unbearable cry as I was forced into the mind of one who has been killed over and over again, and as I felt their pain.

I let tears stream down my face, for no one could see me in the dark, and that was one thing that I used to love about it.

Creepy? That's what I was going for
Haha happy thanksgiving!!
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~camp_hero