written by Animalandia
Celty Andrea Sturn has a twisted mind set. She loves the feeling of seeing people experiencing fear. As she thinks of plans to scare her friends, she heard of a certain ghost story about Bloody Mary. As Celty goes back to camp with this new exciting knowledge, she gathered a group of demigods that will attempt to summon the one and only Bloody Mary, but what if Mary is not just a legend but something deeper? Something darker?
In England there lives a woman of seven and twenty. Like all of the other girls she too is married, a son is also part of her fruitful family. Her mother who is now living in the safeness of the country side gave her the name Mary. Mary is a very beautiful woman, admired by many men even though she is already taken. Her son's intelligence is admired by those who are around him, and her husband one of the known counts in the country.
On the third of the hot sizzling August, Mary was invited by her mother to dinner. She left her only son in the care of one of the housemaids and make sure that her husband is well before he went to his usual work. Mary returned to her house on that same evening, it was past midnight when she arrived. The house was dark, as Mary stood at the front of the house she immediately felt something wrong. The frog that constantly roams their house during the night was nowhere to be seen. There was no animal to be seen, the house was silent and still. The flies themselves were afraid to flap their wings and fly around. There was certainly something wrong.
Mary' s first thought was to find her son. She entered the house worried about her son's condition. the moment she opened the door she found a maid lying on the floor her clothes ripped apart by a sharp object, Mary's first guess was it was a knife that slash through her clothes and stab her countless times. Mary became more and more worried about her son. She ran towards the room that was owned by her son, she pushes herself even though she wanted to vomit as she pass corpse after corpse lying on the floor. Where are you my son? What had happen to you when I was gone? Mary kept on asking herself the same question again and again. It was only the hope of her son being alive that keep Mary focused on the job at hand.
Mary found her son when she finally reached the private room of her husband. At first she was against peeking inside the room, because of a promise she made to her husband. It was part of the rules that has to be followed inside the house, and to break that rule is the same as betraying the family.
Slowly, Mary began to open the door, she peek inside. She saw blood all over the floor but that did not stop her from entering the room.
“MAMA!” She heard her son cry, Mary’s face began to lit up but the scream of the child did not last long. In front of the caring, loving mother her child was killed, his head was separated from his body. Her memory captured the rolling down of her son’s head on the floor. Mary had wanted to cry, to scream her son’s name but her vocal chords seemed to be not working.
Finally having the courage to look up, Mary came face to face with the killer. She was shocked to see that it was her own husband. Tears began to fell down from her cheeks as she realizes the truth. She finally understood why her husband killed everyone in the house. It was all because of her. She was the reason why everything happened. “I married a madman,” Mary whispered to herself.
“My father warned me about your queer family. He told me that there was no man that was courting your mother before she got pregnant, yet you were born. How did a woman gave birth to a child without a father. I did not listen, for I know that you love me and my heart feels the same as yours do. I now came to regret that decision, for you used me to give birth to your son. I saw it with my own two eyes, our son is just like you. He is a monster and monsters deserve to die.” Slowly her husband walked towards her, an ax on his right hand. Mary slowly back away and head for the door, but before she reach the knob of the door her husband was already aiming for her head. “I don’t want to die!” Mary cried as loud as she could. The necklace that she was wearing glowed with red light, slowly the necklace floats and turned into a sword, startling her husband. Seeing the opportunity Mary griped the sword and stabs her husband’s heart.
“Celty Andrea Sturn What in the world is this?” My teacher asked as she handed my drawing back. I can draw well enough to win at least the third place of a drawing contest, first place even if the theme is about clowns. Our teacher Ms. Clea has a fear of clowns, as when she was just young, a clown made fun of her father, and poor little Miss Clea thought that the clown was doing something bad to her father. “Tell me, Do you have fun in seeing me create a fuss out of the little things that you do?” I played all innocent on her and started to act like I was the victim and she was the bully. “I was *sniff* just trying to *sniff* impress you.” I said then I burst into tears. A teacher flew pass our classroom and saw me crying. She immediately came inside. “Miss Clea! Why is your student crying again?” The teacher was Miss Revelyn, my history teacher. She holds my hand and pats my head telling me that everything would be alright. I rolled my eyes but I regretted it immediately because I forgot that Miss Clea was looking at me. “Miss Revelyn did you see that? That girl is a mess, I don’t want her in my class anymore! If you want her go and take her.” Miss Clea stood up from her seat and began to stroll around the room, shrugging as she remembers the clowns in my drawing.
Miss Revelyn and I first visited the principal’s office to inform of the actions that Miss Clea had taken awhile ago while we were inside her classroom. The principal promised to talk with Miss Clea about this but for the mean time I should just attend Miss Revelyn’s class instead of Miss Clea’s.
Miss Revelyn’s class was interesting, since we were talking about war, a talk about blood and weapons cannot be helped but be discussed. Being an expert in describing, I make sure that whenever I raise my hand to answer a question I explain it colorful words that creates an image on the heads of the people who are listening.
I hear them whispering, talking about the gruesomeness of those that were previously explained. It’s not enough. These small things don’t satisfy me. I need more fear, ahh how I long to go back to camp and scare the Athena kids or maybe I’ll scare the Apollo kids into thinking that the sun is gone. Oh I can’t wait for summer to start.
“Mary Tudor, was one of the queens of England. She was later known as the ‘Bloody Mary’ I heard that until know people can still see her wandering the walls of the place that she was imprisoned.” I was snapped back into reality with that statement. Bloody Mary eh? I wonder if she’s real or not. It would be really nice to experiment on such things. This must be the big thing I’m waiting for to prove that I, Celty Andrea Sturn is a daughter of Phobos.