Hooded

Got To play catch up again. I have been so busy these last few days! Also, it is important to note that I am adding a new color! <PERSON> now indicates semi-lucidity. 7/31/10 1- Slave to my Own Bloodlust Poetry usually comes so naturally to me... And this is about Artemis. It should be easy. So why am I struggling? I am frantically trying to get a few more words down before class starts, when I am interrupted by the janitor. He wants me and several other students to accompany him on a brief errand. I readily follow, hoping that the trip takes longer than planned. Anything to get out of admitting that my homework is not finished. Upon returning, I head slowly for the door--- when I realize that I left all my stuff in the janitor's van! When I hurry back to retrieve it, I am somewhat disconcerted to find that the creepy ghost kid who haunts the school has stolen it. Great. That means a trip down to the basement. The kid is not pleased to see me. I spend a considerable amount of time trying not to die before I finally manage to retrieve my bookbag and split. I missed English completely. "Oops." *time lapse* I am walking down the hallway when my former Master, a Gorgon-like lady named <PERSON>, appears in the mirror. Apparently she is still a bit PO'd about me ripping her eyes out and then ignoring her whenever she tried to contact me. "Did you think you could escape me so easily, <PERSON>?" she hisses. "You underestimate me. However, I am willing to give you one last chance. Repent, and become my slave once more, and your life shall be spared." My answer is a savage kick to the mirror, shattering her image and sending glass everywhere. Maybe now she will get it through her thick, snakey head that I work for no one but myself. She may be annoying, but she is still a Goddess. Her wrath is rather frightful on a dark night. Fortunately, I have lucidity on my side to quell the fear. *time lapse* Now only semi-lucid, walking with the baseball team to Silbane's lair. They have practically reached cult-hood in their near worship of her, and she gives them plenty of drugs to keep them happy. My brother is afraid that he will be turned to stone by her gaze. "She is not really a Gorgon," I tell him, "but her eyes are her strength. Slashing them out is your best bet if she comes after you." Inside, she has her place set up like a fortune-teller's tent at a carnival. The words "Tybanta Silbane, the Magnificent," are written in elaborate letters across the table where she sits. Her only acknowledgement of my presence is a slight, sinister smirk. She plans to kill me. The baseball team is standing in line, and she gives them each a shot of some kind of drug. Soon I am at the front. I know that my shot will not be as enjoyable as the others'. Just as she is about to inject the venom into my veins, I duck out of the way and deftly grab two sewing needles from a nearby basket, jabbing them violently into the dark Goddess's eyes. As she screeches in rage, I then proceed to chop her to pieces. After the deed is done, I realize that I am sad to see her go. We had never really gotten along from the start, but deep down we had enjoyed each other's company. I should not have worried, though. Goddesses never stay dead for long.