Creative Story : A Short Story

Decent Essays

It was my fault.
The fresh image of Lady Hel with her arms wrapped around Thor, and as he struggled, she pierced him with her blade and they disappeared together into the ether of nothingness, leaving behind the cool crisp air.
I’d sparked the apocalypse.
Standing on top of one of the only skyscrapers in the city, with a slivered moon overhead, my best friend Verdandi behind me, I stared out into the distance. This couldn’t be happening.
An unseasonably cold wind whipped my curly purple streaked hair around my face. I leaned over the edge and looked down at the busy street below. A shiver coursed through me, not from the Artic chill, but because of the pending devastation.
Water converged onto the city, and ravaging waves battered against the buildings. It was like the world had a fever, a cold even, and today it decided to fight back against mankind. The temperature quickly dropped from a summer’s warmth to a winter’s freeze.
The magical bifrost with the color of icebergs took form; it crisped and crackled – what was once raving waves of water turned to a bluish ice that began to cover everything wet in its wake.
I tried to block out the screams and panic of those below, hearing only the ancient chant of a long forgotten Norse prayer, as if transmitted through time and space.
When the bifrost started to grow, it painted the city in muted shades and dim light, and there was nothing I could do to change it.
I stared into the distance and the minimal light danced upon my

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