Home
Gallery
Search
Register
Log in
by The girl was small, with dark brown skin and curly hair died bright green. Victoria might not have cared much if it hadn't been for those dusty, yellow eyes innocently glancing up from behind her book every now and then. She made her think of this nymph at camp, Acacia Sage -- except that this was not a nymph, she was sure of that. Victoria tapped her foot, her fingers flying over her keyboard. Across the room, the girl leaned over and took a piece of vanilla cake, smiling sweetly, which made all the nerves in Victoria's shoulders tighten like bowstrings. Why had she agreed to go to this Halloween party in the first place? She understood it was important for her father to see his parents, even if it meant spending time with his sister and her annoying children at this kind of family receptions - especially if the children in question brought a bunch of loud friends along - but he knew that bringing Victoria was a hazard. If she killed this girl in front of everyone else, it would not strengthen any family bonds.
"Cake?" Her grandma asked, putting a plate in front of Victoria. Her pointed hat sat crooked on her head and her pink cape kept sliding over her shoulder.
Victoria forced a smile and shook her head, staring back at her screen. The grandmother looked a bit disappointed, and eventually turned away with the untouched plate. Vic looked at the prototype of her remote controlled flamethrower without quite seeing it. She cared about her father and didn't want to start a death match here in the living room. If she could find an excuse to get out and lure the girl down the street, maybe up to that fishing gear shop...
She closed her laptop. "I need some fresh air," she announced, walked out, and left the house with a doorslam. Everyone in the living room could probably hear it.
The street was blurry with fog and she almost stepped into a jack'o lantern. Its witch face seemed to stare right at her back as she strolled away, hands in the pockets of her Harvard hoodie.
About five minutes later, a second slamming noise made Victoria look up. She was sitting on a stone fence in front of the shop, holding a cloth doll in her hand. She had found it on the street, her dancer's dress damp with rain, the paint of her terrified face half covered with mud. Squinting, she peered into the thick fog until a vague silhouette came out a couple of meters ahead. Victoria recognized the green hair and tilted her head to the side, watching her come closer. She carried a jack'o lantern in each hand, a bronze short sword now at her side. Her expression was still sweet and pretty.
"Hey," she smiled. Victoria just stared at her without replying; a little pout twisted the girl's lips as she came to a halt. "Well, that's a bit rude."
Staying silent, the daughter of Athena slowly toyed with the doll. She had left her sword in her room, but she had her knife, and her hoodie. What could two jack'o lanterns possibly do against the power of her sweater?
The girl grabbed the carved pumpkins tighter and hissed: both lanterns suddenly caught fire with a blinding flash and cannoned to the spot she was sitting at. Victoria rolled backwards. Her knees hit the ground just as the blazing pumpkins flew over her head, exploding against the shop window in smouldering orange chunks.
For a moment, nothing could be heard.
Then cracks slowly webbed the window behind her and, with a noise like a crystal shower, all the shards rained down over her.
Victoria bit the inside of her cheek as pieces of glass cut into her skin, into her hands, scraping her face and lodging themselves in the creases of her clothes.
She stayed motionless though, slowly counting in her head, making her breathing as quiet as she could. Her hands weren't trembling.
Suddenly a shadow fell across her and she looked up to see the girl, who's bright green curls had morphed into a nest of undulating vipers. "I can smell you bleed," she whispered, before opening her mouth to an unnatural angle and striking like a cobra. A metallic clanking noise later and she retreated with a shriek, holding her hands against her mouth. Victoria stood up, casually dusting the shoulder of her sweater where the girl's fangs hadn't even scraped the fabric.
"What is...," she started but Victoria didn't give her the time to finish. Her hoodie shimmered up and grew heavier until it became a bronze breastplate, the screaming face of Medusa chiselled across the torso. The girl opened her mouth in horror; her snake fangs almost glowed in the dim street light. Then she turned around and slithered away as fast as she could on her reptilian legs, but the fourteen years old had no time for that either. Her knife hissed through the air like a discus, hitting her right between the shoulder blades. She cried out. The dracaena kept going though, screwing her face up in pain, spasmodically dragging herself along the pavement. Victoria let her athletics training take over and caught up, grabbed her neck from behind, and twisted sharply. It cracked. The girl fell to the floor, where she lay like a monstrous, broken Barbie doll until a green fire spread across her limbs and nipped at the dead snakes on her head. Soon there were nothing but glittering ashes on the road, which the wind and drizzle promptly washed away.
Victoria picked her knife up and strapped it back to her ankle before tucking her bleeding hands into the pocket of her hoodie. The lights in the living room were shining through the mist. Maybe she'd accept a piece of vanilla cake now.
"Cake?" Her grandma asked, putting a plate in front of Victoria. Her pointed hat sat crooked on her head and her pink cape kept sliding over her shoulder.
Victoria forced a smile and shook her head, staring back at her screen. The grandmother looked a bit disappointed, and eventually turned away with the untouched plate. Vic looked at the prototype of her remote controlled flamethrower without quite seeing it. She cared about her father and didn't want to start a death match here in the living room. If she could find an excuse to get out and lure the girl down the street, maybe up to that fishing gear shop...
She closed her laptop. "I need some fresh air," she announced, walked out, and left the house with a doorslam. Everyone in the living room could probably hear it.
The street was blurry with fog and she almost stepped into a jack'o lantern. Its witch face seemed to stare right at her back as she strolled away, hands in the pockets of her Harvard hoodie.
About five minutes later, a second slamming noise made Victoria look up. She was sitting on a stone fence in front of the shop, holding a cloth doll in her hand. She had found it on the street, her dancer's dress damp with rain, the paint of her terrified face half covered with mud. Squinting, she peered into the thick fog until a vague silhouette came out a couple of meters ahead. Victoria recognized the green hair and tilted her head to the side, watching her come closer. She carried a jack'o lantern in each hand, a bronze short sword now at her side. Her expression was still sweet and pretty.
"Hey," she smiled. Victoria just stared at her without replying; a little pout twisted the girl's lips as she came to a halt. "Well, that's a bit rude."
Staying silent, the daughter of Athena slowly toyed with the doll. She had left her sword in her room, but she had her knife, and her hoodie. What could two jack'o lanterns possibly do against the power of her sweater?
The girl grabbed the carved pumpkins tighter and hissed: both lanterns suddenly caught fire with a blinding flash and cannoned to the spot she was sitting at. Victoria rolled backwards. Her knees hit the ground just as the blazing pumpkins flew over her head, exploding against the shop window in smouldering orange chunks.
For a moment, nothing could be heard.
Then cracks slowly webbed the window behind her and, with a noise like a crystal shower, all the shards rained down over her.
Victoria bit the inside of her cheek as pieces of glass cut into her skin, into her hands, scraping her face and lodging themselves in the creases of her clothes.
She stayed motionless though, slowly counting in her head, making her breathing as quiet as she could. Her hands weren't trembling.
Suddenly a shadow fell across her and she looked up to see the girl, who's bright green curls had morphed into a nest of undulating vipers. "I can smell you bleed," she whispered, before opening her mouth to an unnatural angle and striking like a cobra. A metallic clanking noise later and she retreated with a shriek, holding her hands against her mouth. Victoria stood up, casually dusting the shoulder of her sweater where the girl's fangs hadn't even scraped the fabric.
"What is...," she started but Victoria didn't give her the time to finish. Her hoodie shimmered up and grew heavier until it became a bronze breastplate, the screaming face of Medusa chiselled across the torso. The girl opened her mouth in horror; her snake fangs almost glowed in the dim street light. Then she turned around and slithered away as fast as she could on her reptilian legs, but the fourteen years old had no time for that either. Her knife hissed through the air like a discus, hitting her right between the shoulder blades. She cried out. The dracaena kept going though, screwing her face up in pain, spasmodically dragging herself along the pavement. Victoria let her athletics training take over and caught up, grabbed her neck from behind, and twisted sharply. It cracked. The girl fell to the floor, where she lay like a monstrous, broken Barbie doll until a green fire spread across her limbs and nipped at the dead snakes on her head. Soon there were nothing but glittering ashes on the road, which the wind and drizzle promptly washed away.
Victoria picked her knife up and strapped it back to her ankle before tucking her bleeding hands into the pocket of her hoodie. The lights in the living room were shining through the mist. Maybe she'd accept a piece of vanilla cake now.