Boy, have a sibling get married and you end up with little time to write!
NOTE: In the precedence set by the ancient Greeks way before me, I proclaim this work to be 'epic' [at least in scope]. Darn you, Homer!
italics = Mental notes
Climb That Mountain High - Part Five
Beverly McIntyre
The zephyr kicked up snow, sending small flakes of white dancing across the colorless plain. The flakes swirled and danced around a lone figure trudging through the snow. Spiral's boots crunched through the white blanket drifting up to her knees. She has huddled down, against the wind. She paid no attention to the flakes that danced around her, seemingly mocking her their grace. Wrapped like an inadequate cocoon about her torso, her six arms desperately tried to hold in any heat left in her slight frame. Despite her arms' objective, she was bitterly cold and hollow inside. The only warmth found was the fire of rage that burned in her eyes.
She had no recollection of how long she has been here, trudging through the snow, but with one glance over her shoulder, she observed the seemingly endless trail of footprints that slithered up behind her. She had no idea how long since she actually felt warmth because every second in this forsaken land seemed like an eternity, but she did know who put her there. That was what kept her moving instead of collapsing to let the white overtake her.
Hecate had discarded her to this cold abyss. The Titaness had cavelierly claimed that she had fulfilled her part of the bargain. The Lord of the Greek Gods would not find Spiral in this cold abyss. That's no small wonder. No one would look for anything in this bleak hell. Hecate had disappeared right in front of Spiral after proclaiming the deal done, using a dance that was lopsided yet too familiar to the six-armed woman.
There was no escape for Spiral. Hecate had somehow managed to leech all the mystical knowledge and power from Spiral's body in one pain-filled moment. Then she had casually discarded Spiral into a snowdrift. The absence of power was distinctly felt as a gaping hollowness right behind her ribcage as the Mistress of the Wildways trudged onward. There was no quick dance to get away from the keening winds. No simple incantation to keep the cold at bay. All she had was a hollowness at the very pit of her being.
The frigid wind changed direction, blowing white hair into rage-filled eyes. Spiral cursed as she reached up with one hand to brush the windswept locks off of her face. Her arm snapped back into place before her five-fingered hand could get very far. The cold was biting her harder now. Stumbling on numb legs, she tried to squint through her hair. Of all the hair colors the bloated bag had to give me, he had to give me white. Rot his eyes. Rot them clean out of his sockets.
Her blazing eyes swept the horizon, searching for any change in the bleak landscape. Nothing. Nothing but flat white land under a white-sheeted sky. Moving onward, Spiral tried once again to find some vein of mystical energy left inside her, something Hecate missed. Her inner probing found no power, only fragments of memories of the person she used to be before Mojo 'perfected' her. Stifling the memories and shoving them back into the little locked closet of her mind, Spiral continued on.
'Look at the little dancer. All alone and wanting her lil' Longshot.'
Shut up.
'Can't do anything to save her skin. Can't get her way out of this one. Or can she? Find out next time on _Spiral_22_.'
Get out of my head, Mojo.
'See this is exactly why that lucky son of Arise is my biggest star while you fade into the darkness. He can get himself out of these things with a sense of panache.'
GET out of my HEAD.
'He wouldn't be trudging around. He'd already be out of there, back at home snuggling by a fire with the world's greatest stuntwoman.'
"Get out of my head," Spiral growled through gritted teeth. She began to breath through her mouth like a rabid dog, each breath trying to force the incessant voice of her former employer out of her head. Saliva exhaled with every breath froze on her lips.
'See. Look at those ratings. My thorn-in-the-side could pull in triple that.'
Mmmrr. Leave me alone!
'Why don't you go open a dance studio? Maybe teach a few kids to tap dance. That's about all you're good for. You can't even pull in good ratings anymore.'
I'll show you! I'll show you!
'Look at that pitiful thing, Domo! Left powerless by someone who hasn't been on the face of this miniscule planet for over three thousand years! Talk about funny! This could be our next great comedy. We'll call it:-'
"LEAVE ME ALONE!" Spiral's scream screeched out over the whiteness as she fell to her knees. She breathed in frigid air in gasps, making her lungs feel as if they were being sliced open by thousands of tiny knives. Cold wetness attacked her bare thighs engulfed in the snow. The continual tirade of Mojo continued unabated in her head.
She hunched over, trying to dim the voice in her head but only managing to make herself smaller in a vast landscape. She bowed her head against the arctic wind that blasted over her. Her white hair fluttered in snow-encrusted wind.
"Leave me alone," she whispered hoarsely. Her voice was carried away by the howling wind before the sound could even reach her ears.
