For those of you that are not in the know… the Gossip's Bridle, otherwise known as the Scold's Bridle, was an iron headpiece or mask that would enclose the head and had a bit attached to it on the inside. The bit would stick out from the iron framework and would be forced into the mouth of the wearer. This particular one, as with all the popular ones back during the Witch Trials, had spikes both at the top and bottom of the bit so that when it was placed in someone's mouth, it created excruciating pain for the individual.
It was used mostly on women and was put in place by their husbands or family members if they felt that the woman spoke too much or was not agreeable to whatever her husband wanted. Let's face it, the time of the Witch Trials was a great time in history for the less than stellar husbands.
And now, my mother wanted to use it on me.
I had to admit, I did not see that coming.
"Since you are not inclined to speak, I thought that this would be appropriate," said Mother as the rat pushed down on my shoulders with more force than before. Mother must have made improvements to this particular bridle as the whole thing was covered on the inside in needle-sharp spikes. Oh joy…
I raised my eyebrow and crossed my legs. "This is not taking your pound of flesh and so is not allowed in this particular game… Mother," I said trying not to let the panic take over. I knew that I was safe, I knew that I could kill her if it really came down to it… but at the same time, I still felt like that helpless little girl that I was the first time she hit me. "Pick something else."
Looking at the bridle in her hand and then back to me, she shrugged her shoulders and went back to the table, intent on finding something else to take her pound of flesh. Placing down the Gossip's Bridle, she picked up something else and came back to my side. Seeing that it was the scalpel again, I was a bit confused.
Mother normally did not repeat a particular instrument twice in the same day. She said that variety was the spice of life and I should appreciate being exposed to different things.
When she grabbed my left arm and sliced through my sleeve, I was stunned. This was the first time that she ever took this route, so whatever was going through her mind was… not right. "I hate that you have him tattooed onto you… and I hate it more that it will regenerate every time you do," she hissed, not bothering with the game this time.
Starting at the top of my shoulder she laid the scalpel at an angle and started to slowly guide it down to my wrist. Watching my tattoo being peeled off of my arm like a ribbon lit a fire deep inside as both my heart and my monster roared in anger. I would and could put up with a lot of things, but this was beyond my tolerance.
I snapped the rope holding my hands behind my back and grabbed the rat's hands where they rested on my shoulders. My actions must have startled Pandora as she took a hasty step back, but not before that ribbon of flesh floated to the ground between us.
I could feel my monster raising to the surface and for the first time, I welcomed her. Closing my eyes, I allowed her to take complete control as I faded into the back of our minds, not caring about what would happen next.
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Moirai
I could feel the second that everything became too much for Nadia to handle. The poor child, putting up with so much, simply because… well… I didn't know why she was willing to put up with it. We were the balance, the scales… we made sure that everyone and everything from man to divine followed the course that was set out for them. The Laws of the Universe were absolute, and yet… this… mortal in front of me… this girl's mother… wanted to circumvent the Laws.
I scoffed at the idea as I slowly, carefully took the life of the thing holding us down. He never knew what happened until the last second when I withdrew the final centimeter of his thread. Nadia—Hope… was just learning how to cut the strings of life, but a true weaver knew how to unravel them.
Standing up, I held up my hand, grabbing the rotten thread in front of me and forcing the mortal to freeze in place. I enjoyed the look of fear in her eyes… something that I knew Nadia had never had the chance to see before. But I did. I saw it when I killed Elena, long before the little girl ever knew I was in her body.
Ah, yes, yet another reason why this thing hated what the Gods bestowed upon her. Stupid mortal.
Calling the string of rot towards me, I watched as the beautiful, smooth flesh of a woman that only had the best that life had to offer turned from white to grey… smooth turned to wrinkles. Looking more like the Baba Yega of her legends, I paused.
"Hello, Baby Yega," I said, greeting an old acquaintance. "How have you been enjoying your experience with eternity? Has it lived up to your expectations?"
The old witch fell to the floor, hissing up at me. I chuckled.
Mortals always seemed to want what they did not have… strength if they were weak, power if they lacked it… and immortality when they knew they were dying.
Baba Yega hated being old and ugly. Every time a stranger would pass through her woods and screamed in fear made her heart even darker, her life force rotten. She was supposed to be a hand of fate, to guide lost people to where they needed to go, but she forgot her way and became lost herself.
I am sure finding a body like the Gypsy Queen was too much to resist. But now, her time had come, and it was time to be judged.
"Goodbye," I said softly to the woman I had known for centuries upon centuries before the Gods were even born.
"I will be back," she hissed, not willing to let go of her thin piece of thread.
"Not this time, old friend," I replied and, taking out a pair of shears, "I wish you nothing but happiness in the afterlife." With those final words, I snipped her thread and watched her fall to the floor and disappear into thin air.