“Take a couple steps back.”
“Uhh,” I looked behind me at the sheer drop. The ground had to be a hundreds of feet below. “What?”
Lowell crossed his arms, unfazed at how close he was to the edge. His amber eyes stared through mine, he was not someone who liked repeating himself.
“Oh wait, you mean metaphorically!” I breathed a laugh. “You know, maybe you’re right. I am putting a bit too-“
“No,” he said. “If anything, you’re not working hard enough. Now step back.”
My gaze turned from him to straight ahead of me. I almost wished I didn’t come to the floating mountains in the first place, but no, I need be here, I need this.
The breeze blew slightly as I swayed a bit and contemplated. One step and I would plunge. There was a reason Lowell was making me do this, a test of some sort, but am I supposed to actually step back.
“Skira,” he placed a hand on a knife strapped to his thigh.
If I asked he wouldn’t tell me why. And there’s no way he would kill me, too many people would get mad. Unless, it would look like suicide…no, it’s not that. I trust him.
The air trembled as a breathed.
“Glad I could finally daunt you,” Lowell scoffed. He pulled out the dagger, “But it’s either you do it, or you can spar me again.”
Sparring wouldn’t put my life on the line, but he would beat the shit out of me, even if it’s been months since last time. Not feeling like having another broken leg, I grinned. “Well in that case…” I stuck my middle finger up at him as a leaned back and fell right into the wind.
Open skies beckon in something broader.
I always loved space. I’m so lucky to be alive in the time of its exploration. The moon landing! Could you believe it? I knew it was only the beginning.
Of course, I also love history, I teach it, in fact. But now I’m about to make it.
Everything’s in a blur. I’m excited, nervous, everything you would expect to be. Oh this is amazing.
I look back as I board, realizing how far away I’m going to be from the ground. How serene it must be. Well, I guess I’ll find out.
I close my eyes to breathe as everything goes on around me. All of a sudden we’re being launched.
This is something of my dream, to be the first teacher in space, on the Challenger.
Open skies beckon in…
(I’m sorry. I’m not good at poetry so this is just me writing and not a real poem, but I still wanted to use the prompt.)
I didn’t mean to.
I really didn’t I swear.
My hands, I look at my hands. How could my hands have done all this. They’re black with burns, but I don’t feel them. I should feel them, I deserve to feel them.
Slowly, I sit down and lean against a brick wall. People are screaming and running around me, but I can’t hear them. Someone stops and makes eye contact with me before dashing away. The fear in their eyes, the sympathy, they don’t even know it was my fault.
Another person tries to pull me up. “Come on! Don’t give up now! You got to get out of here!” he says. I lash out, and I think I burn him.
The black on my hands aren’t burn marks, it’s ash and charcoal. I can’t be burned. That should be a good thing. My eyes have tears in them and I don’t know if it’s from the smoke or of guilt or sadness.
The fire continues to engulf everything, it’s all my fault. It shouldn’t be my fault. The test said I wasn’t one of them… I’m not supposed to be special…
I bury my head in my arms, shutting out my blazing thoughts and city. Maybe the fire will take me too, swallow me, until my bones are melted and I am released from this world.
I’m sorry.
“Are you sure?” My sister asked me, her voice trembling.
No. “Yes.”
“I- I don’t know if-“ she started. Her eyes were flickering left and right, she was so scared.
“Em.” I said. “Emyra, I promise you’ll be okay.”
Her warm brown eyes looked at me, I had to fight the urge to look away, but she did first. Her gaze drifting behind us, the smoke of the burning city we fled from.
“Okay.”
I nodded and grabbed her hand, pulling her towards the cliff edge with me. She nods back slowly. Then we jumped.
The rocks should’ve killed us. Rocks isn’t the right word, they were shards of stone, poking out of the water and pointing at the sun like flowers, except deadly.
Even if they were there, the 70 foot drop wouldn’t have left us walking. But it did. Because I was right.
Right when we were to hit the rocks, I squeezed Em’s hand, said one last prayer in the millisecond that I had left and braced myself for the impact.
But it didn’t come. I didn’t even feel any water. We went right through everything. A bright light flooded my vision and for a moment I thought we had died.
Then the light faded, slowly, and I could see the shape of Em, crumpled next to me. I looked up just in time to see another shape nearing us. Then black.
(I kinda want to continue this, should I?)
“When did you say this happened?”
“About 5:20-ish. It happened so fast, detective, I just- I-“
Blah blah blah. I watched the police interview witnesses, getting basically to same information from each one, only slightly altered. What a waste of time. People never know anything, these detectives included.
I turned and walked into the house. It was plenty nice, the exterior seemingly inspired by New York brownstones, and the interior was well furnished and neat. Well, except for the bloodstain.
It was right in front of the entry door, meaning the guy had only made it a few steps into his home before, you know.
Sighing, I crouched down to examine it. The body had already mean removed, but red was everywhere. Whoever did this had fun with it. I felt myself smile.
“Agent Jarson.”
I looked up, “Yes?”
A man, another agent or detective by the looks of it, stood above me. He was tall, but I towered him once I stood up.
He cleared his throat and held out his hand, “So you’re the famous L. Jarson.”
“Guilty,” I said, shaking his hand.
“Inspector Smith Wilson,” he introduced himself. I forgot his name almost immediately. Too common, too useless. “So what do you think?” he asked.
I took a look around, though I didn’t need to. “Quite interesting day,” I answered monotonously.
“I bet I can make it even more so,” he offered. After a quizzical look from me he looked down at a carpet that was just a few inches from the large bloodstain. Using his foot, he slid the carpet away.
I gasped. No. No no no no. My hand flew to my red hair, my fingers habitually pushing through it. I took a breath, and calmed myself, this was not the time or place for something like me to panic.
After a moment, I looked back at the uncovered hardwood floor. Or really, I looked at the pale blue paint that was over it. It was a sort of sigil, with runes surrounding it. Viking runes.
“You seem surprised,” the inspector said. “Any idea what it is.”
“No.” Hel, that was such a lie. I stared a second longer and then turned on my heel and left. Left the house and left the inspector standing there confused. I had to think.
I’d only made it a house down when I stopped. Damn, I’d been around humans too much lately. I shouldn’t be worries, nor should I care at all. Yet, I couldn’t deny it worried me a bit. Whoever painted that there knew. They knew and wanted to catch me. Or maybe…not me. I blew out a breath. Was there another one around here? Could the sigil painter be hunting someone else?
Wow, I really really need to stop hanging around humans. I was starting to gain emotions, ew. Not like there was anything I could do, it was either hang low in these slums or risk punishment again up there.
Either way, I’m stuck here with someone who knows how to trap gods. One step into that sigil and any Norse diety freezes. Can’t move. I shivered. Cold was my thing but walking was, too.
I had options. I couldn’t have cared less about the murder ten minutes ago, but now it seemed that if I can find the killer, I can find the hunter. But wait…the hunter put that trap there…they probably know who I am. Shit. That changes stuff.
I supposed I’d have to lure him out. I smirked, at least I was getting some action. Just what a dormant trickster god needs.
There was more determination in my step as I continued down the sidewalk, it was the most purposeful I’d walked in years. Whoever this hunter was, they were no match for Loki.
