Swirling, spinning, spiraling into unconsciousness; pulled down by the irresistible force of comfort, I fell. Not able to control how far or how fast I let it overpower me. I was being pulled into the dream world like I weighed no more than a feather.
A screen appeared before me. It was circular and there was really no edge that you could put your finger on. It just kind of faded into nothingness, so there was no definite outline. Inside the screen was a scene. It reminded me of a movie scene, where the actors are putting on their best performance to try and trick us into believing in them. This was the same, and this actor was putting it on thick. He was sprawled out on the ground in a position that could have like bowing.
After a minute I realized that he was bowing to someone…or something. I couldn’t see the object he was worshiping, but I could feel it. A presence so powerful that I wanted to curl up in a corner and wait till the sun came out. I stared at the screen, monetarily mesmerized.
No noise came out of the picture, and I wanted to hear it so badly. I saw the actor’s lips moving and I wanted to see if I knew that language.
Suddenly I was no more. My body was gone; I was a mere spirit, floating around in the picture that I had so wanted to be a part of.
“Please, Astarte, great goddess of love and revenge, make her love me, worship me, so I can have revenge on my traitorous brother,” the actor pleaded. The language was like nothing I had ever heard, but somehow I understood it perfectly.
Astarte chuckled.
“I am Astarte, the first, the greatest, and most powerful of the love goddesses…why should I help you? You are just a measly peasant looking to get back at his brother by making his brother’s true love fall in love with himself.” She shook her head, “The things humans come up with these days.”
“I am not human,” said the tiny, weak, hurt voice. Astarte chuckled again.
“You’re right, you aren’t human.” She seemed to think about that for a minute. “I guess that means that this betrayal would go on till the end of time. The idea is growing on me. What would you give me in return?”
“My allegiance,” the actor answered, now more sure of himself.
“You would give your allegiance to me. You do know that I am not a good god. Giving your life to me would be equivalent to selling your soul to Satan.”
He raised his head for the first time.
“I am sure.”
Gasping for air, I was hurdled out of the scene back where I stared; in front of a screen.
Now that I thought about it, I had recognized the voice. But that could have been dismissed as a trick of my mind, but it was unmistakable now.
Short, black, curly hair framed the face of the real traitor. His full lips were stuck in an evil sneer. The strong jaw line was instantly recognizable. I sighed as I looked into his eyes. It was him, no doubt in my mind.
It was Rajaka. He had sold his soul to the devil…or worse.
Something was poking me.
And just like that I was transported back into the real world…awareness…a place where I could be hurt…a place where Hiram wasn’t…and that was the worst version of torture I had received yet.
The poking was continuing. I opened my eyes, but quickly shut them again. The light hurt my eyes.
“What,” I mumbled.
“It is time to get up madam.” The way she said it made me know that I was in charge. It made me feel mean…cruel…and old.
Slowly opening my eyes this time, I saw the maid standing before me.
“Just call me Keeva,” I replied without thinking. The maid stopped cleaning and froze. She turned to look at me, eyes wide with disbelief. Then she started hyperventilating. She threw her hands up in the air and ran out the room shouting for someone named Phoenix.
I sat up in the bed, curiously watching her as she fled the room.
I was thrown back onto the bed by a force that had me gasping for air; trying to break through the thick layer of power that had just been thrown on me. Finding that there was no way that I could break through something so powerful I did the only option left to me. I stepped out of my body.
My ghostly body floated out and landed next to the fake me. The fake me was fully recovered now, and her eyes were swirling with power. It was the same look that Rajaka always had.
“Rajaka,” she whispered lightly. She smiled an evil, cold smile. One that I hoped I never wore when I was myself. She stood up and stripped off her clothes, putting on something else that she fished out of a drawer. As she put on the clothes I studied her carefully. She was pretty, there was no doubt about that, but this beauty seemed to be bringing her more trouble than good. She was finished and I gasped, appalled. How dare she flaunt my body like that? I would never dress like that. She looked like a stripper.
She was wearing a white dress that very low cut, very tight around her chest, and was very short, it barely covered her butt! I stared frozen eyed as she covered up the hideous scares with some unhealthy looking make-up. She was now putting on loads of gaudy diamonds, and my shock now turned to anger. I floated over to her and slapped her across the face. But my hand passed right through her, and she seemed not to even notice. I made not even a breeze to mess up her gorgeous hair.
She brushed her hair so fast and harshly that I thought that it was all going to fall out. She fished out something else out of the drawer…a cream of sorts. Even though it was green and goopy she spread it all over her hair, twisting and twirling it till it was just right. I thought that surly she would stop there and not make me look any more like a stripper, but I was wrong. Dark, unnatural make-up was applied to every centimeter of her face.
I was steaming with resentment now, but there was nothing I could do about it.
To finish off the look, she grabbed a pair of shocking red high heels and slipped them on. They looked dangerously tall, and I comforted myself with the fact that she might fall and break something. But then I remembered that she is actually me, and hurting her would hurt me too.
There was a knock on the door. She flew herself at it with surprising speed. Rajaka lay on the other side and she sighed in relief. He, like I had, stared at fake me in wonder and disbelief, she saw his reaction and pouted perfectly, bringing out the fullness in her lips.
“You don’t like it,” she sulked, swinging her arms by her side in an innocent look. He quickly regained his composure.
“Of course I like it,” he accommodated.
“Good,” she replied, “Because I did it for you.” She flung herself into his arms and he instinctively caught her.
“I love you,” she whispered.
Then she kissed him. A deep, long kiss that had me gagging just looking at them. And there was nothing I could do about it.