LIGHTNING AND THUNDER

(8) Levina

*Levi*

Henry was sitting on a golden chair, looking more like a king than my boyfriend. The strange man, with the white robes on, and a full head of blazing red hair, was killing me. Or so I thought. Every time I would scream, the pain would waver, yet inflame once the scream drained me. The long gashes on my side, stretching from my spine to my bellybutton, had become my center of attention. I was scared. My thoughts were jumbled and confused. The last thing I remembered was Henry picking me up and a stag in the forest, staring at me with what seemed like gleeful eyes. The man dipped his fingers into the bowl again and then applied it again. I screamed as I felt the poisons inside me flex and grip tighter. I pulled on the restraints harder, making scars. Henry came and held my tethered hand, he whispered in my ear.

                “His name is Apollo, he is helping you.”

                I accepted his words, but they kept sticking onto me, nagging at me. Apollo? I had heard his name millions of times, but now that he was applying the green muck to my wounds, I couldn’t focus to dig through my memories. I heard a whinny outside, and I turned my head, torturously, yet I was rewarded, the enflamed horses gave me an open door to my memories. History class, Apollo was the Greek god of the sun, and he taught man medicine. He would ride his chariot through the sky and one of the wheels was the sun. I smiled through my pain; it was too much for my emotional bank. It was like the straw that broke the camel’s back. Everything just broke under the pressure, and while I smiled, I screamed and I finally blacked out.

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                As I came too, my head felt very light, and if I moved my skin that the cut, that had peeled over on my scalp, would crack and start bleeding again. My hands weren’t tethered anymore; I wrung them as I looked over myself. My wounds were a ghastly sight. My claw wounds on my stomach weren’t on fire anymore; they were bandaged, with silk. Silk? Wasn’t that the least absorbent of all fabrics? I didn’t care, the silk created a sort of remedy, covering my wound, like a wet towel on your head on a hot day. I wiggled my ankle and I felt a heavy weight on it. Henrys hand was on my leg, he was fast asleep, but he had fallen asleep with his hand on me. I lay back on the fluffy pillow, (that I hadn’t recognized because of the poison flowing through me) and I slipped into his head, I tried to relax but because my walls were so low, I felt the buzzing heads of the two horses. Wasn’t the myth that there were two horses? Yea.

I started to reach out, my mind was groping for others, and I felt another. The frequency was like Henrys, it was unreadable. Henry was right beside me, but the spot was right outside the large window. I jolted upright, the mind was were a girl, about my age, was standing up against the, what you would call a door frame (even though this frame was about 12 feet high and about 10 feet wide). She was wearing a puke-green cloak; under the cloak she was wearing a skirt that barely covered anything, with fringe, a piece of fabric that covered her breasts but the fringe under it would hang down to her bellybutton, her knee high boots were just barley brushing her skirt fringe.

She had beautiful black olive hair and a deadly stare; that promised my murder. A stag skipped through the room, and stood by her, the same stag in the woods. She pulled her arrow, now loaded, stroked the head gleefully and she pulled the string back. She smiled a devilish smile and extended two full fangs. Her pupils became slits and her eyes turned from a beautiful mud brown to a green gold. She roared at me, with ferocity like a lion. Henrys eyes snapped open and his nostrils flared.  He turned; the stag ran at him, the stag leap about half the distance away from him and curled into a blur of color. The stag was now a tiger. The ferocious tiger roared and his fangs were wet and glossy. I understood her plan of action, distract Henry with the big cat, and kill me. Well I was taught by my mom, never just lie down and die, go out fighting. I pushed up and I slid into a crouch.