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Based loosely on the Greek myth, and centered upon what happens after.
The campfire flickered in the wind, and instinctively, the girls shuttered. Not that it was cold. It was an omen, carried by the wind. They knew it, and they told no one. Their secret fears in the dark, never brought to light, played a part in this.
A little while away, sitting against an old willow tree, Arachne plucked lightly at the lyre, its sweet wood glinting in the moonlight. No matter how she prayed to evoke a sound, nothing came of it. Angrily, she snapped it against the trunk of the tree, and it splintered, showering her with chips of wood that dug into her skin.
The splinters formed a distinct pattern: a spider with moony wide eyes and menace. She stopped, and cursed. Another splinter struck her arm, finishing it.
As she looked up, purely out of the feeling of being watched, she saw bright yellow eyes, and she shrieked. Not yet. It wasn`t time yet. Her breathing became erratic as she panicked.
"Sorry, didn`t mean to startle you," someone said softly, slipping out of the cover of the brush. It was the grandson of the eldest in the camp and, she knew, it afforded him certain luxeries others wouldn`t have had.
Such as the luxury of not being beaten to a bloody pulp for scaring her so badly.
She was still shaking, and her breathes were coming out in greedy gasps.
Startled, the boy grabbed her lightly by the shoulders, asking idiotically, "Are you okay?"
"Yes," she snapped, regaining her composure, then quieted her annoyance. The boy, the boy could be useful. "I`m sorry," she amended huskily, unused to the words on her tongue.
"Stupid question, I realize now. It`s no problem on your part," he laughed uneasily. He knew her reputation. Arachne turned her doe eyes on him, rising slinkily, and she had him, netted in her web. "You wanna...go somewhere?"
She smiled seductively and grabbed his hand. "Lead the way," she replied softly, purring. His hand was sweaty, from nerves, she presumed, and he blushed lightly, softening his face pleasantly.
He lead her up to the hill overlooking the camp, a place no one rarely went, excluding him. She gazed up at the stars, in part marveling, but more playing hard to get. He stared at her, his eyes smiling in a way Arachne could only describe as...sweet, innocent.
She would change that. She would have to change that. She kissed him, and slowly, slowly, she broke through his defenses.
And then, the sky lit up with flame, and a voice, feminine in nature, boomed from the sky, "Arachne, spider child. How have you been freed from your curse? Have you come to fullfill the contract?"
"What does it speak of?" the boy demanded.
She ignored him. "You know full well, Aphrodite, daughter of the Sea," she addressed formally, with a menace that didn`t match the words.
"You must pay," the voice demanded. "The boy shall do."
"No," she stated firmly. "There must be someone else."
"Yes," the voice sighed lazily, toying with her like a cat with a mouse. "But the time is now. You or him, spider child. Choose quickly."
The boy didn`t move. He knew what he`d gotten himself into, involving with the witchling: trouble. But this was more than he could possibly expect, so much more. Still, like a loyal dog, he refused to leave. "If I must be sacrificed, all I ask is one last kiss," the boy said firmly. The voice laughed, "And so you shall have it." "Him," Arachne said quietly, giving the boy one last kiss on the cheek and, with a scream, the boy disappeared. Torches danced in a parade in the distance, coming closer, and Arachne knew she needed to get away.
They were coming to kill her, kill the witchling, a mob of angry people who knew she had done something to one of their own.
"Goodbye, Arachne," the voice droned, "Until next year." And then, Arachne could almost see the unseen face grin. "A parting gift from Athena." With a click, Arachne was frozen in place, and the torches kept coming, ever closer.
Mascara Maniac · Wed Jul 13, 2011 @ 05:05am · 0 Comments |
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