"I will prove myself worthy. I must show no weakness. This...thing you call love, it is a distraction, a weakness beyond all others, and I for one I will NOT fall victim."
Through the cover of darkness, it was all clear. The dark green shades of a spinning vortex consumed the whole of the world. Blasts of lighting, shards of glass that had come with it through the heavens. Deep black clouds covered the sky, and nothing could be seen at all at first glance. The brush moved swiftly, adding the outlines of the vortex, the shades of the darkness, and the object that had been consumed inside. She remembered it all: the damage it had made once it finally made its way to the pavement of the crossroads, the explosions of the light posts-sparks flying every which way, and then the sudden departure, leaving almost no evidence of it ever being there…Almost no evidence.
Charlotte stepped back from her masterpiece, wiping the sweat from her brow. In her right hand, she held a plate of distorted colors of mostly black and green and gray. There were other colors, many others, blending almost perfectly together on the paper. The image was dark, almost scary, but it was pronounced by how she felt. Years later, Charlotte remembered the event as if it had happened hours ago and still it cast a dark shadow of fear into her heart.
The things that had happened in those few hours were still shocking. She had called her best friend Meagan almost immediately when she arrived home. At this point in time, Charlotte would take anyone's advice. Meagan lived in the next city over, maybe four hours away. Charlotte would have a lot of time to think about - or paint more or less – what she had seen.
When the twister had come, smashing down on her small truck, she thought surely this was the end, but somehow she had survived. It surrounded her entire truck, the twirling debris crashing violently through her wind shield. With her foot still on the peddle, Charlotte drove clear off the rode into a short, yellow pole, and then, just like that, the cyclone suddenly vanished back up into the clouds. For the most part, the truck was still drivable, though the sudden halt left Charlotte with a bruise on her brow when her head clashed into the steering wheel. She sat there completely frozen for almost half an hour, processing the event that just abruptly happened. When she finally shook herself back into reality, she got out of the truck. The sky returned to its normal gloominess, but nothing remained of the storm.
Charlotte stood there for a long time, and then suddenly jumped. "Uuuuuhh...pff." groaned a figure far to the left of the truck. She turned and saw him, lying hopelessly in the middle of the street where the twister had left a deep crest in the pavement. She was too busy looking up at the sky; she hadn't noticed him until now. The man, dressed in dark, but badly scorched clothes, struggled to turn off of his stomach. Charlotte eagerly made her way to him, stopping just a few feet from the edge of the crest. She stared in wonder, but was too scared to move closer. She saw his arms wobble violently as he fought to sit himself up, but then he collapsed again.
Charlotte ran to her truck, seeking her cell phone. She ripped open her purse, but it was not there. She searched the truck, even the areas around, but her cell phone was gone. How could she call for help? There were no hospitals in this small town, and she could not drive alone to the next city over. It was too dangerous. Charlotte was left with a single option. She grunted and kicked the dirt, then turned back to the unconscious man, walking to him slowly. She stepped into the crest, sneaking around to his side, and knelt by his shoulder. The clothes he wore were definitely strange, and burned. His black hair fell over his head completely, so she moved some strands to see his face. His eyes were closed, covered in dirt. His lips were cracked, coated in dry blood, and mixed with saliva and dirt.
Charlotte gently cupped his shoulder, shaking him a bit. "Sir? Can you hear me?" The stranger did not reply. He was completely still. Charlotte moved closer to him. She grabbed his shoulder, and, lifting him off his face, guided him to lie on his back. She caught him quick enough to prevent him from rolling over too hard, letting him rest his head on her knee. She sighed, wishing it would just be over, but, whoever this guy was, she knew he needed help. The man winced, and his eyes fluttered, but they did not completely open. "Come on, let's get you some help." She got him to sit up, but was without help, and she fought desperately to get him on his feet.
Charlotte's thoughts were interrupted at the sound of hard knocking on her front door. "Char, open up. It's Meagan." She knocked harder each second the door was not opened. Charlotte set her painting tools down, ran to the door, and unlocked it, and Meagan, her tall and blonde best friend, bolted inside.
"Where is he? I want to see him!" she demanded. She looked over Charlotte's painted clothes. "You're painting at a time like this? Come on, Char. Let me see him!" Meagan bounced impatiently like an over excited child. Charlotte shook her head, worried her friend would do something stupid.
"Meg, just calm down, alright?"
Too late. Meagan's eyes swam through the darkness of the house until her eyes fixed upon the sleeping figure on Charlotte's couch. "Oh my gosh, is that him?" Meagan pointed to the man sleeping soundlessly in her friend's living room. A fire had been made to heat the room.
Meagan skipped to the silent figure as quietly as her heels would allow her and Charlotte eagerly followed. Charlotte had done what she could about his face; his cuts were clean, and a wet cloth lay on his forehead. His hair was still a disaster, but not at all damaged. Meagan had that sly smile on her face, the one Charlotte was always afraid of. "Aw, Char…can we keep him?"
"This isn't funny Meagan, this guy needs help!"
"Oh, Char, he seems fine to me. He looks wonderful." She giggled like a teenage girl and added, "But if you want to make sure, I could give him CPR."
Charlotte rolled her eyes. She took her friends arm and led her out of the room to where her painting stood by the window. "This is what I saw. This thing came out of nowhere, and when it suddenly disappeared…he was there." Meagan looked over the painting in wonder. It did look a bit scary.
Charlotte began to tell Meagan what had happened. She told her about the tornado, the damage it had done to her truck, and about driving this stranger back to her apartment, how he kept mumbling in his sleep; something about Asgard. At the mention of it, something inside Meagan suddenly woke and her eyes grew wide. She opened her mouth to speak, then suddenly closed it, glancing again over at the man on her friend's couch. Charlotte stared her, both confused and intrigued at Meagan's sudden interest in the word. "He mentioned Asgard?" Meagan finally mumbled. She seemed withdrawn to Charlotte, far off in her own thoughts. What was Asgard?
"Yeah. What, you've heard of it?"
Meagan was astounded. She smacked Charlotte hard on the shoulder, looking as if she had been hurt. "Charlotte! I've only been telling you about it for years. Do you never listen to anything I say?"
"What? Not your bedtime stories." Yes, Charlotte did remember some of what Meagan use to share with her during their childhood. Meagan's father was a historian and for most of his life he studied many different legends and traveled the world in search of answers to the many mysteries he dedicated his life to solving. He would often return with stories that he told Meagan while she grew up, but there was never a legend her father was more fascinated with than the legends of the Asgardian gods. "They're not bedtime stories, Charlotte, you know that." Meagan sighed and sat on the stool near Charlotte's painting. "Daddy told me about Asgard all the time, and I believed every word he said. I still do. Maybe your stranger knows more about Asgard. He could be a researcher, just like my father."
"A researcher that falls from the sky almost completely unharmed?" Charlotte pointed out. There was no way. "There's something else, Meg. Have you seen what he was wearing?" she added after a moment of thought. Meagan shook her head and got up to investigate. When she uncovered him and saw his strange uniform, her past suggestion was completely forgotten. "Seems a bit strange doesn't it?"
"I don't think a researcher would dress like this." Meagan felt slight chills collapsing and running through her body at the mere thought of this man coming from outside this Earth. "It looks like a uniform. Almost…"
"War-like." Charlotte concluded. Both girls exchanged concerned looks, wondering what such a discovery could do for the two of them. "Do you really think this guy can be from that Asgard place?" Meagan shrugged her shoulders.
"Everything makes sense. I mean, him falling from the sky and all. I've believed in the tales so long…I don't know, Char." She stared down at the man resting on the couch, wishing and wondering.
Charlotte looked back at her painting. She tried to process all that had happened within the last four hours. How was all of this possible? What should she do next? Whatever conclusion she came up with suddenly sounded ridiculous a moment later. She began to feel a little worried. "I suddenly feel like we are part of an under cover FBI genre movie." Meagan laughed, bringing back the excitement she had felt earlier. "Which brings me to thinking, if he doesn't wake up and enters some kind of coma, should we take him to the hospital?"
"Well, of course. Alien or not, we can't let him die." Charlotte nodded in agreement. "But then again, what if he does wake up and he doesn't seem happy at all?" Meagan mentioned. Charlotte hadn't thought of that either. Everything they were discussing was all to thrilling to piece together at the same time.
"We'll take this a step at a time. We wait for him to wake up, and then we can start getting some answers. Then we go on from there. After that, he won't be our problem."
The girls talked about this well into the night. It was a little past two when Meagan called it in and went upstairs to sleep in Charlotte's room. Charlotte said she would stay up in case anything happened. When Meagan was gone, the house became strangely silent. The tick tock of the old clock hanging above the fireplace was all that could be heard. Charlotte watched the hands tick around the clock's face, sitting in the center of the carpet between the fireplace and the unconscious man.
Around three, the fire started to die down. Charlotte fetched wood from the cellar a floor below her apartment and fed it to the fire. It sizzled and screeched, then lulled back to a soothing crackling sound. The warmth felt good on her cold skin. It was always cold, because she couldn't afford the heat bill. Sadly, the fireplace didn't heat the entire apartment.
It wasn't until a quarter past four when Charlotte finally drifted off to sleep, but even then she was woken abruptly by the sound of rustling sheets. She sat up from the floor in front of the fireplace and turned back to the couch where the stranger lay, only he was gone. Charlotte rose quickly onto her feet. She went into the kitchen to look for him, but he was not there. He was in neither the bathroom nor the bedroom. Charlotte felt a little distress. She returned to the fireplace, pouting inside like a child who had lost their toy.
A deep voice from behind made Charlotte jump, "Which realm is this?" Charlotte spun around with such fright she nearly cried out. The stranger stood still, blending perfectly into the shadows of the room; it took a moment for Charlotte to find him.
"Uh," she mumbled. "Realm?"
"You seem human." he informed her. "So it must be Earth."
It amazed Charlotte how he knew the planet, seeing how she had concluded on the thought of him being an alien. She nodded, almost too eagerly. She walked a little toward him, but the stranger recoiled, moving to an opposite part of the room. He moved gracefully, even in the state he was in. He seemed very inhuman to Charlotte.
"Are you…an alien? From outer space?" she asked, twinning her fingers together nervously. She prayed Meagan would stay asleep for this. She didn't want her to scare him away. The stranger did not reply to her question. Instead he walked around the house as if he were looking for something. Charlotte sighed. "Are you an alien," she asked again, adding, "from Asgard?"
At the name of his home, his former home, he turned, and looked at her strangely. "Asgard?" he repeated. "How is it you know the name of that realm?" he asked.
Charlotte shrugged. "You mentioned it...while you slept." She told him, and quickly she added, "What is your name?"
The stranger glanced at Charlotte's hands, and noticed the way she fiddled with her fingers. It amused him and for a moment he played with the idea of messing with her, but the thought instantly past. "I am Loki, son of-" he said, but he stopped before finishing, turning away from her again. The room was silent for a long while. Charlotte took advantage of the stillness and moved a little closer. "I have no father." Loki continued. "I have no brother. I have been betrayed by all who know me, and now I have come into this realm, this Earth, to seek my vengeance." he explained.
Charlotte stood still, staring at him strangely. She felt sad at his poor tale, but did not well acknowledge it. She didn't know anything about this guy, but she suddenly became very interested in him. "If you don't mind me asking, Mr. Loki...what exactly are you?" she asked. "Are you…human?"
This stranger turned to her. He felt a little confused. "What am I?" he repeated. "I am Loki. I am a god, once a prince of Asgard, but no longer."
"Loki..." Charlotte mumbled to herself. And then, everything clicked. She remembered the name from the stories Meagan had told her years ago. "Loki, the God of Mischief." Charlotte said quietly, mainly to herself. So Meagan had been telling the truth, she realized, or her father had. She wondered on in her thoughts, leaning against the back of the couch. What was happening? Charlotte felt a sudden ache in her skull and she raised a hand to her forehead to ease the pain. This was too much.
"God of Mischief." Loki smiled, approving the title. "I am surprised humans have any knowledge."
Charlotte, focusing her attention back on her situation, was hurt at his insult and stared back at him with annoyed eyes. "But, Loki is a myth. A legend. He's just a kids' books character. I don't know who you are, but I'm sure you're no god of mischief." she told him, laughing a little, but it was a nervous laugh. "I'd rather prefer you to be an alien." she added, turning to return to the kitchen; her heart was racing and she needed something to drink.
The supposed Loki lost his smile, and just as Charlotte walked through the archway to the kitchen, he suddenly appeared in front of her. Charlotte was too overwhelmed for words. Her heart was racing faster than it had been before. "You call me a liar?" Loki scowled, filling Charlotte with fear. Chills ran up and down her spine at the sound of his voice. "Who are you to say such things to me?" Loki continued.
Charlotte, relaxing herself for a chance to be sarcastic, offered him her hand with a mocking smile. "Charlotte." she introduced herself. Loki's angry expression grew darker, and he aggressively shoved her hand aside. "You humans, your race is so clueless. I've observed you. You are a weak species. No leader, and no purpose. You think you are clever, but you know nothing!"
Charlotte flinched at the insults he threw at her. "Excuse me?" she declared angrily, stepping closer to him. "Oh I see, Mr. Know-it-all. Well, you know what? At least I'm not dumb enough to try and play tag with a tornado. Oh, and FYI: I saved you life!"
Loki paused. He stood straight and still, staring at her in silence for a long time. His gaze was cold. Charlotte's angry expression turned numb. She took a step back, a few steps back. She suddenly wished Meagan was awake. "Tell me," he said, slightly smiling, "how can one save the life of an immortal, human?" Loki asked, looking at her as insignificant. He raised his head proudly over hers, stepping nearer to her. "You think you can save a life? Are you even capable of such things?" Charlotte's skin went cold; the fire was growing dim, and then went out all together. The room lost its light and all that was left to see was a dark figure towering over her. Charlotte backed all the way into the wall, which seemed to freeze her skin as she touched it and Loki still drew nearer to her until she could feel his aura of cold surrounding her. The room was as silent as a grave, she couldn't even hear as he leaned close to her. She felt his breath on her face. "You're afraid." he whispered. Charlotte shivered. "You cannot help but be afraid." he continued. "Throughout your entire, pathetic, human life, you will always be afraid."
Charlotte let out a yelp as Loki's dark figure covered her completely in shadow. She crouched to the floor, holding her arms over her head, panting in fear. Seconds later, the light returned. Loki was gone.
Sounds of footsteps rushed down the stairs to where Charlotte crouched. Meagan took her friends arms and helped her to her feet. Charlotte fought with her. "Char, it's alright. It's, Meg. What happened, where's the Asgardian?" Charlotte calmed down and looked around the room. After a moment, Meagan's words sunk in.
Charlotte sighed, shaking her head. "Gone."