Klasma: An enemy for all -encounter with werewolves

Klasma: An enemy for all -encounter with werewolves 

// centuries ago Mary was doing her best to hide from humans, hide from Vampires and hide from witches. She encountered lycans, however, who chased after her. 

xxx

"Do not ever be prey. Do not let them catch you off-guard." 

Mary remembered the fear that was clinging to her bones as she was running across the forest. Her feet were bleeding from brushing against rough stones, sharp tree branches, and anything sharp that cut through her flesh. She remembered the distress she felt as she stumbled across that forest. She remembered the urge to scream and the desire to not be found and make the least noise possible so she would hold back those screams inside her.  She was cursed, forbidden to ever be accepted by humans, witches, werewolves, and vampires. As soon as they would see her eyes, they would know she was cursed. They would know she was the "Cursed One" who helped the Mikaelsons and betrayed her coven. They would know she is an enemy of their people and they would always hunt her down.  Vampires, humans, and witches wouldn't know until they saw her eyes. Werewolves, however, would know straight away that she was a supernatural creature. It was something she couldn't hide from them without a spell, because her scent betrayed her true nature. But a spell was a delicate thing, glamour didn't last longer than a couple hours, and given her limitations with silver and vervain, she couldn't properly craft a special ring that could allow her to prolong the spell. Bummer! 

"Do not ever be prey. Do not let them smell your fear or they would be relentless."

The witch wrapped her arms around her legs, as the painful memories of the werewolves pack hunting her down surfaced again. All it took was a minute. She had not noticed that her spell had stopped working and was hoping that her crossing the street would keep her unnoticed by the pack. It could have worked if one curious werewolf hadn't tried to stop her. She was attractive and he had tried to woo her. Upon her refusal to give in to his charm, the young pup became more violent and held onto her shoulders to shake her up, causing her sunglasses to fall down and her eyes to be revealed. It took him a minute but he realized who he had in front of him. The legendary cursed witch. The one whose death would make him a hero among the supernatural creatures. He would be acknowledged by his people and those beyond his race. The cursed witch killer had a nice ring to it, but it distracted him long enough for her to cast a blinding spell and escape his clutch. They went after her, at first, for her attack on their brother.  They soon were informed of the truth and were all out for blood. Her blood.

"Do not let them overpower you, for you would be nothing but meat for their fangs to tear apart."

Mary ran, fell to the ground, and hurt herself. Her blood was smearing several spots in the forest, making her easy to track down. She couldn't just run. She had to stop and fight. She hated it. taking a life was not something she wanted to do, yet it was something she had to do if she wanted to live. It would have been easier, after all, easier for her to die right then and there after centuries of pain. but she refused to die. She wanted to live. She needed to live. But the pain, the tears, and the exhaustion all came together, clashed together, and ended up triggering something inside the witch. there was nowhere to hide, no place she could feel as if she belonged. There was nothing she could have done but fight her enemies. Mary remembered very little of what happened that day. She vaguely remembered her fear, the anger that was starting to take over at the unfairness of the situation. 

"You can't outrun them! so you will fight them! Fight until you make it rain blood!"

She fought tough and nails. She fought for her life, tearing the pack apart, limb by limb, with nothing left by guts, blood, and limbs on the floor. She was soaked with blood, it had splashed over the trees, over the foliage near her, over the stones.. over her surroundings. It was a real carnage, something she didn't quite remember but could still feel. Her bones were cold. Her eyes were wide open as she was traumatized by her own violence. Could it be that the anger she tried so desperately to hide just decided to come out? Did she use her enemies as literal punching balls? She couldn't tell...she couldn't tell.. except the fact it soothed her heart and she loved it. The next thing she did, upon realizing the carnage she was responsible for, was laugh. She laughed her heart out, laughed so hard that she hurt her insides. She was in so much pain from the claws and bites she got from the werewolves' attacks that Mary didn't notice she was bleeding. They were gone. it was the most important thing.  

"Fight it! Fight it! Fight until you are the only one standing."

It was the life she was cursed to live. A life made of escaping death. A life made of pain and suffering. It was a life she refused to endure anymore. Nobody could accept endless days of pain. Nobody deserved such punishment... especially not when she got punished for helping others. She was a healer. She was a healer and she deserved to be healed as well. She deserved to not be lonely.. she deserved.... she deserved to be something else than an enemy for all. Weren't there at least a few creatures who would see her for who she was? weren't there at least a few souls who could love her the way she was? Or was she forced into a life of solitude like her supreme intended? She didn't know. She didn't know, but she would try to live. That was the best she could do after all. 

Try. 

-TBC-

Take a piece

Take a piece of me, a little bit each time we see each other.
Take a piece of me, strip me off of myself
Take the parts I can't stand, chew on them, devour them until there's nothing left.
Take the parts I can't stand, make them disappear so I would never have to look at them.


I feel trapped in there, even more than I used to feel before.
I thought I could claw my way out of that pit of darkness but I fooled myself
I am doomed in there, forever trying to swim back to the surface
Only to be pulled down, deeper into the pit.

What a fool I was!


Take a piece of me, a little bit each time we see each other
Take a piece of me, destroy my whole being
Take the parts I deem unworthy, those parts of me that make a failure out of me.
Take the parts I can't stand, make me forget my shame, make me forget my pain

I am suffocating in there, dying a little bit each passing day
And I don't know if I can even hope for something better.
Take a piece of me, I beg of you, take one off each time we see each other
Take a piece of me, make it stop, make it vanish, that ever-lasting pain I can't shake off.

Put an end to my misery

What a mess

What a mess this life is!
Confused and terrified I am watching as my life unfolds in front of me.
People I met, people who know me, people who want to stick with me and those who don't.
The solitude that overwhelms my heart and makes me wonder if all of this is real.
Do they want to be with me?

What a mess this life is,
When nothing actually works the way it is supposed to.
When everything is blurred and all that transpires is fear?
I don't know why it is that way.But it is.
I am confused, to be honest. Confused and horrified at the idea that maybe, just maybe I'd be alone.

What a mess this life is,
When nothing really matters, to the point that we don't know how to react.
When everything is scary, especially the potential happiness at the tip of your fingers.
When everything seems to be deceitful with no inch of truth whatsoever.What is real?
He said he was in love with me but was he?

Or is everything just a game, just a means to an end?
He thought he could tell me everything and I would fall for it? Please!
I am expecting the worse at every turn, I am expecting for the other shoe to fall and hit and hurt me
Nothing really matters......

Nothing. really does, especially not me.

Distance

It is safer, to put a distance between others and me. How could it not?

Some would say I am trying to protect myself from the pain I have experienced before.

In a way, it's not false. I do not want to be in pain the way I used to be. 

I'm scared of running into abusive people again and experience the physical and emotional violence.

I'm scared of going through the same ordeal over and over again and yet...

I feel as if I had to go through all of this as if it was a punishment of some sort.

Yeah silly I know. 

But this is how I feel and I can't shake this feeling off of my mind. 

I deserve the pain. I deserve to go and roam this Earth and suffer until the day I die.

It feels as if I had to pay for some crime I committed in the past; I am making amends am I not?

Otherwise, how could I explain the way I feel? How could I explain all the bad decisions I make?

All of them? Starting with the fact I am staying alive? Ah..or the fact I am resisting Death?

How tempting that knife is more and more. How tempting those pills are, more and more.

But I am resisting, as far as I can go. I stretch myself thin every time I am holding onto life.

Yeah... Silly, I know.

But this is how I feel and I can't shake this feeling off of my mind.

The worst would probably come to the fact that I am convinced I am hurting people.

I am convinced that my mere presence is enough to destroy everything around me.

I am convinced that I cannot grow anything, I cannot make anything, I can only destroy.

I am convinced that I am a waste of space, of skin, of air and that I can only hurt those around me.

Yeah, that's how I feel, that's how I deeply feel. I cannot communicate that trail of thoughts enough.

I cannot make people understand or sit through with me and take it in. 

How do you tell people you want to die?

How much of it is the mental illness and how much of it is just me?

I used to believe that it was all /me/ but turns out it actually was my mental illness playing tricks 

I actually don't want to die -or so they tell me- but I have urges..dark urges that drag me down.

It's a constant effort, not being drawn to the knife, the pills, bleaching products or whatever poisons

It's a constant effort trying to remain lucid, clear-minded and to center myself whenever I feel like it.

Like I want the pain to go away permanently  -because I want the pain to go- like I want it to end.

I'm scared, yeah.. silly I know.

How do you talk to people about it?

You simply don't. You keep it to yourself and you endure like an adult.

You use unhealthy coping mechanism because you know damn well that you can't deal with it.

I can't deal with the pain, thinking about it is making me feel so scared and hurt and I don't want it.

So I bury my feelings and pretend everything is okay, pretend I have everything under control

And everybody is buying, mostly because it's easier to believe it than to see the truth for what it is.

They can't help. They would be overwhelmed with fear, guilt, shame maybe. They would be lost.

They can't help and even if they wanted to, they would make me feel even more guilty than I do.

So I keep going.

I endure it, willingly, knowing full well that I won't make it for a long time or maybe I will.

Maybe I would suffer until the day I die OR I would die when the pain would be too much to bear.

Who knows?

So yes, I put some distance between people and me, because it's easier for everyone.

It's easier for me because I wouldn't have to watch them feel sorry for me.

It's easier for them because they wouldn't have to know what I have in my head and in my heart.

The less they know, the better.

The more distance there is, the best it is

I think so.

The executioner

He was the son of Death. Born into a family of executioners, it was his duty to bring to the gates of hell the miscreants who terrorized the population.  He did his best to keep a distance between the people he killed and his feelings. Taking a life wasn't easy and his people knew that and both felt relieved and disgusted by the work of this man and his family. They were called all over the country in order to execute felons and murderers and for a while, the young men were able to push back the emotions that threatened to fill their heads. That worked until they couldn't. The younger one, our main character, broke down the day he had to kill a young girl whose crime was to steal two gold coins from her lord to feed her starving siblings. He didn't even want a trial nor did he want to give the child a second chance. They were starving and helpless and still the lord had her killed and the kids punished even more cruelly. The executioners were revered as the doers of God's Will, but was it God's will to take the life of an innocent? Of a child? He didn't think so. It broke him down so hard that the young man couldn't pick up his ax or even tie a noose in the following weeks. So his brothers did his work and he was forced to stay home. 

It wasn't an issue for him. Instead, the young man started to work the land and took a liking in growing things and life rather than taking it. He met a young woman, he discovered was actually a slave, and the two of them would very often interact. She was beautiful and kind. She was radiant and proud, kind towards children and animals but fierce. He saw her tame the wildest horses, he watched as she healed the chickens and cows. She really was good with animals and knew her way around medicinal herbs and unguents. If she wasn't wearing a collar, he'd never suspected that she was a slave. Her owners might have tried to keep her terrorized, The young woman had a strength he never saw in anyone before. He realized that while it was forbidden for him to fall in love with a slave, he couldn't help himself. He fell in love with her. How could he not? One night she was in town for the sake of her owner, the young man broke the law of the land and claimed his love for her. She responded in kind, claiming that she fell in love with him a while ago and she chose to come to town that night because she knew they would be alone. She made the first move, let him know that she wanted him and both became one. That night, they sealed their fate.

She wanted a way out, she wanted to escape slavery and he tried to prevent her from doing so. If she tried to escape without a very tight plan, she might be caught and might be killed. They argued a lot and she told him that he didn't understand how she felt, how she had always felt. Trapped in a situation she never asked for, born from slavery, her ancestors kidnapped from their motherland and stripped of their identity. Their humanity denied and their lives repurposed to serve the needs and desires of unscrupulous monsters. She told him that her body wasn't even hers and the only decision she could take for herself was the one that led them to become one that fateful night.  She told him that while he could to some extent understand how she felt because he was forced to take a job he didn't want to do and forced to kill people and be as desensitized as possible, he still was far away from understanding the way she felt. She was nothing, less than an animal in a world she knew shouldn't have been hers to live in. She would never know where she came from and would never be able to visit the place. Her life wasn't hers, her body wasn't even hers. How could he understand how it felt to be property and valued as such rather than a human being with emotions and a plan for the future?  He stopped fighting her over her need to escape after their argued and decided to do his best to help the woman he fell in love with.


His family learned of his plans and decided to move him away from the town and force him to return to work. Once again he was an executioner sent across the country to eliminate felons. Once again he was thrown into a life he didn't want to live. He went from creator of life to destroyer of life in a matter of days and here he was doing his job with a bitter mood and a broken heart. He couldn't even see his sweet lover who wanted to set herself free. Every day he thought of her, of how she handled life without him by her sides, like she did before. He thought of what she decided to do once she learned he wasn't in town. Was it her cue to start moving? was it her cue to eventually take her destiny into her own hands? What could be the outcome for her attempt at freedom? He knew the law, he knew she would be killed if she tried to escape and was found. He had hope, however, that she might survive the ordeal and fly to the  North of the country and eventually meet better people than the ones in the South. But what if she fell in love with someone else? He would accept that too. He was away, far away from her and wouldn't be able to protect her or ensure her a happy life. She would be stuck with him, to a job he hated, to a family who would never accept her. She deserved better, she deserved more. So the hope of seeing her happy in the future kept him going. He decided that the price for her freedom was his commitment to his job.


He was good at it, at swinging the ax, at tying the noose. He was an expert even, an artist. He was the son of Death, the one true heir and he started to take a liking at what he was doing. After all, it was his destiny or so he thought. It was so much easier to believe that than to actively try to stop doing this job. Could he even escape from this life, he thought one day? He wouldn't. People knew his face, knew his family. They knew their business was Death and they would never trust him. His grandfather tried at some point, to change his life when he met his wife but society never let him to it. They would constantly remind him that they needed someone to be God's executioner and that job fell onto his lap and he couldn't refuse to do it. It was a curse, really, a curse more than a blessing. He wasn't free, just like his beloved, he was forced to keep on going. It didn't last long. Someday, Fate cruelly reminded him that he wasn't free. He was called in the South of the country for a quick judgment. An exception because the perpetrator should have seen private justice but the crime was too grand to be ignored by the public eye. God's justice had to fall upon the criminal so the young man was sent to execute it. It was a slave who killed her master after the latter purposely tried to use her body. It wasn't uncommon for masters to rape their slaves, -it wasn't even considered as such since slaves were denied their humanity- but it certainly was punishable by death any sign of rebellion, let alone the murder of an owner. She killed him and had to face consequences. In order to make an example out of her, her execution would be public. It wouldn't be swift like a beheading or a hanging. It would be more gruesome, fitting to the crime she committed and the life she took.

Already, the young man wasn't feeling well. He hated the fact he had to kill women and even more when the death had to be a slow and gruesome one. He hated the fact he had to kill a slave, especially since he fell in love with one. What was his shock when they brought the culprit to him. It was HIS beloved. He saw her skinny body and the bruises he guessed were inflicted upon her by her captors. He noticed traces of whip he hadn't seen when they last were together, fresh traces of fists on her face. They tried to make it disappear so she would look her prettiest on the day of her death. They would use her charms against her, strip half-naked  in front of an audience to justify the lust of the master. How could he resist such a creature? with perfect curves and a perfect skin tone? How could he resist such a beautiful female who was flaunting -according to them- her charms to him to get some favors from him? How could he? he was just a man.  It sickened the executioner who tried his best not to react. His family was watching him among the crowd, the lord of the place was also there, he couldn't defy them. She knew it was him and stayed regal, defiant and proud. She held her chin up, put her hands on her waist as they tried to humiliate her but she didn't flinch. When asked if she regretted her action, she said she should have cut his cock and throw it to the swines who were more deserving than her master was. She spoke her mind, talked about the god that was forced upon her people and how she found his grace and misericord while praying for him. That God told her she was human and should be seen as such and not like property or a beast.

The master forced himself on her, he brutalized her and she refused to let him get away with him. She had already lost so much from the hands of those barbaric white men that she refused to let them get away with that outrage and pain. He had what he deserved and she would die with her head held high. She then went on about her last regret, which was to not have been able to go through with the love of her life, the kind and noble man who treated her as a woman rather than as an object. She said that Fate brought them together once more and she would be able to feel his gaze upon her as she dies. It shut the mob's screams for a while as people were confused. She wasn't kicking or screaming or begging for her life. She was standing there, accepting death and lecturing them about their own barbaric nature. How dare she? A servant? A slave who had more humanity than them? They encouraged the executioner to proceed with the law, after all, she was a murderer and nobody, especially not a slave should be excused for what she did. So he did. His heart was heavy, his throat was tight and his eyes were filled with unshed tears. He held her hand for a minute, holding it tight as much as he could before she smiled at him and patted his shoulder. "Go ahead, love, I am ready." He nodded but his shaky voice told her. "I am sorry about what I am going to do to you. I just can't.."

He looked into her eyes, lost and confused. It was so certain, the minute he saw her his heart skipped several beats and it became clear that she was his future. She was the promise of a better life and if he really loved her, he would at least die alongside her but he didn't. He was a coward. He just couldn't die, not even for love. So he placed her on the wheel that he would use to stretch her lips, a little more every half hour while she would have her hands broken, her feet broken and would be flogged and cursed by every priest of the small town. She would be insulted by the crowd, thrown rotten fruits in the face as a way for all of these peasants to channel their anger and misery. She knew it from the start but dying by the hand of her lover was still a better fate than life as a slave. So she didn't make a sound, she didn't cry but allowed herself to express her pain through her facial expression. He was caught stroking her cheek and talking to her, saying how sorry he was that her death wasn't clean and quick. He talked about how much he wished she wasn't a slave so he could marry her, have children with her and make her happy. He talked about how empty it made him feel and hopeless too. She was his beacon of hope, a flower found in the concrete that his life was. She told him that he was naive if he thought that they could have had a happy ending. In this time and age, they couldn't have been more than they were. He couldn't have given her more than he already did. A little bit of respect, some decency and love. It was more than she ever thought she would have.


She died several hours later, he lost the count. All he knew was that she died slowly and from an agonizing pain. A pain he could have prevented her from feeling. Her death impacted him deeply, to the point that he just couldn't sleep anymore. He stopped sleeping, he stopped eating, he just couldn't perform anymore. The blood he had on his hands, her blood was the last he could take. It gave him nightmares, horrible nightmares where her ghost followed him and accused him of killing her and not doing anything to save her. His silence made him an accomplice of the system that killed her and he very much did, literally but also by doing nothing. Guilt started to eat at him, making him lose his mind, to the point that he was forced into a mental institution. They kept him with the lunatics and the mental ills. They kept him among thieves and murderers who pretended to be sick and he felt at home for a while. He felt that he got the right punishment for not doing more to save the love of his life, but it was vain. His guilt ate him more and more and he missed her. Her laughter, her scent, her kindness and candid smile. He missed her fierce attitude, her honesty and everything he should have preserved instead of lost.They found him someday in his cell, hanging from the roof with an elaborate rope made of clothes. They said he died with a smile and seemed at peace after years of agony. His family buried him in the cemetery of criminals and sinners where was buried his beloved. They finally reunited after so many years spent away from one another. And finally, in peace and in death, they found each other.

Together at last.
Together forever.