Tethered

Tethered ~ By Luke R. C.

Our wedding was meant to be my one day of happiness: the first good time I've had in my life. When I felt the life drain from their body as I held their hands under the arch, I felt the same cold blanket that has always covered me. His crime wouldn't be left unpunished, but I would soon come to realize that Loki was the embodiment of karma. There was nothing I could do to him that he wouldn't return.

3 days after the wedding, which occurred on February 13, 2021, an idea manifested in my brain: those who are dead cannot do horrible things to you. I scuttled out my back door into my worn-down garden and retrieved a small, beautiful flower unique for its horrid smell. After rushing back to my kitchen, I fetched for my cauldron, a few enchanted ingredients, and the knife I favor the most.

In the cauldron, I concocted a pure potion that would most likely benefit one's health. Of course, blood shed for revenge is a divine corruptant, so I took my knife and cut a small dash on my wrist. A few drops spoiled the potion and created an ominous potion of death.

I stepped back outside to smell the fresh air because the flower polluted the air of my house. However, I was dismayed to view how the sky had changed. The once sapphire sky was engulfed in gray, and the smell of humid murkiness overcame the toxic flower aroma. My face towards the sky, my eyes fell upon a crow sitting on my fence.

The crow reminded me of my fiance, Acanthis. They always loved birds. Not just birds, but their incredible ability of flight. They were mesmerized by their free nature and their privilege to not be tethered by the weight of the world. I'm happy that they're no longer chained to our earth, although I'm also melancholy that they left me behind.

The crow squawked at me from the fencepost.

Tempted to utter a squawk in return, I ask the crow, "Are you here to remind me of Acanthis?"

"Yes, Dolores, I am," the voice of a middle-aged man replies.

"Loki! Have you taken the form of a crow just to torment me?"

"Torment isn't the right word," he said, "I'd say that I'm here to taunt you. I'm sure there's so much ferocity building up inside you, and I just want to encourage its release!"

"Why would you want me to unleash my anger out on you?"

"Despite the impression you may have of me, I don't hate you. I want you to let your anger out so that it doesn't corrupt your soul, even if that means expelling the rage onto me."

"Yes, I am angry, but I am not a revenge-seeking person."

Loki laughed and said, "you are too pure for your own good, Dolores," then, he proceeded to hop off of the fence and take his form as a human.

"Come inside! I concocted a delightful tea that I have yet to try. How would you like to be the first to try?"

"Tea sounds lovely!"

We walked the cobblestone path in silence. He thought that he had escaped my fury, but he was wrong. This path would lead him to his death bed; however, he would not die in a bed. Dying in a bed is far too good a fate for him.

When we entered through the back door of my house, Loki took a seat at the wooden table that my husband built for me. When he sat down, he threw one leg over the other. He wore a ruthless look on his face--prideful and unforgiving--that motivated me to destroy it. His dirty-blonde hair was short and wild and almost resembled a hedgehog. His lanky build made him appear judgemental with his legs crossed and hands touching together.

I hurried to my cauldron, which was now an unsuspicious teapot. After providing Loki with a dainty teacup (littered with lilacs and green stems connecting them) I poured the sinful potion.

Not wanting to seem too eager for him to try it, I sat down and asked him, "You're a wizard, correct? What branch of magic do you specialize in"

"I specialize in probability charms. Are you going to pour yourself some tea?" He asked.

"Oh, yes!" I answered, getting up from my chair to pour the tea into my cup.

I hastily changed the potion into water and let the water stream from the spout. I walked back to my fragile, wooden seat. My hand was shaking uncontrollably.

"I," he pauses, and takes a sip of the murderous potion, "have the high ground, Dolores."

Slowly, his skin darkened. His veins gradually turned neon purple, beginning at his wrist and spreading everywhere. I could see the pain in his eyes, yet he didn't look away from me. He stared me dead in the eyes. He peered into the center of my soul.
From each vein I saw on his wrist, his skin began to break apart. He took another sip of the potion despite his fragile hands that would turn to dust any second. Slowly, each limb on his body turned to dust starting at the very end and working its way up. His eyes turned from their envious green to a mysterious purple before he completely collapsed into the black sand. It was finished.

I slowly walked to my closet--shaking like the Tacoma Bridge--and reach for my hand-held vacuum cleaner. I picked it up, only to find a deceased bird laying behind it. The bird (white and small) laid with one wing covering its stomach.
I slammed the closet door and carried the vacuum over to the chair which Loki previously sat in. Before turning on the vacuum, I looked to the flower pot in the corner of my house that was now broken into several pieces. The dirt spilled out, and the flowers' roots stuck up.

Unable to hold back the tears, my eyes became the source of two small waterfalls. I turned on the vacuum to drown out my deep, sorrowful breaths, and I vacuumed the remains of Loki's torment. At the bottom of the dust, I saw a red marking on the wooden chair. On the chair, there was a large rune drawn in blood. The same rune I saw on the day Loki took it all.

I was holding their hands when they suddenly grew frigid. Their legs gave way as they fell to the floor dramatically. Terror manifested in my stomach. Their head hit a flowerpot. It broke, and cut their head. One arm laid on their stomach, the other on the grass. A few drops of blood from their head fell onto the pot and formed a small rune. I looked through all of my books, but I could never find what that rune did.

You've heard me mention it before: karma. Mischief, hatred, revenge, etc., are Loki's favored principals, and karma is alongside them. Part of me knew, even before I killed him, that he had already plotted his revenge. However, I couldn't let it stop me. I was willing to accept whatever he had prepared. I was ready to dine on whatever feast the chef had composed.

"Oh, Dolores," Loki's voice echoed, "you couldn't have thought that you could get rid of me that easily."

I replied, "no Loki, I didn't. I did it completely out of spite, and I didn't care what you would return to me."

I looked around so that I could spit at his feet, but he was nowhere to be found.

"Show yourself, Loki!" I demanded.

"If that's what you'd like."

In front of me, an opaque, violet-colored Loki appeared. He floated above the ground, untethered like a bird. He had a static appearance. He wore a devilish grin.

"What are you going to do to me?" I asked him. I wasn't scared, I was intrigued. What could this ghost do to me?

"For the rest of your life, I will torment you," he informs me, "I will drive you insane, and you will wish that you were dead."

And that is exactly what he did. My luck from then on was worse than ever. Every time I thought that something good had happened to my life, it turned around and made my life worse. Nothing I tried could help me escape the never-ending cycle of agony.

One day I asked Loki, "what exactly did that rune do?"

"That rune," he paused, "that rune is a special rune that tethers one's soul to haunt someone else's body. Using a probability charm, I made Acanthis's blood form that rune so that his soul would haunt my body. They saw you kill me. They saw the monster that you had become, and when you killed me, they went to the Overworld."

"You devil," I cried, "you dirty, little, trickster! Why have you done all of this to me? What did I do to deserve this?"

"My passion is tormenting. You were merely my easiest target," he laughed.

I searched my kitchen for my favorite knife--a knife that Acanthis gave to me--and stabbed myself in the heart. I deserved a painful death. Loki laughed maniacally at what must have been an amusing show to him. In the end, I gave him exactly what he wanted.

As I bled to my inevitable death, he floated down to meet his face to my ear, and whispered, "I lied. You should have chosen me, not Acanthis."

To this day, I still don't know whether he had told the truth or not, but now, I'm here in the Underworld telling my story to those with similar ones. I will never see Acanthis again. I will forever be tethered to the embodiment of karma.