Amphora

**Author's Note: This was based off an old writing prompt. I'm not sure if I'm even going to continue this since I'm still focusing on other stories and want to do NaNoWriMo. But if you want me to continue to see where the story could go from here then comment below and I'll put something together after I update some other stories on here. Thank you!

*****

Some people are born with tragedy in their blood...

My name is Tessa. You know what Tessa means? "Reaper". Should I blame my parents or Fate? I also have a skull birth mark on my right arm so that could have been why.

Death and destruction seemed to follow me where ever I went. You could call it survivor's guilt or just plain egotism but death and destruction followed me like a bad BO. I was always involved in some way. Once in the 3rd grade my school bus crashed where I survived unscathed but others died or were severely injured.

Everyone in my 5th grade class got the measles except me. Some cheer leaders who made fun of me in Freshman year of High School fell from the human pyramid and broke something while I was watching them at the game (one girl Courtney broke her neck but lived).

A guy who asked me to senior prom had an aneurism on the dance floor after we kissed. You know. Crazy coincidental stuff like that.

Once there was a lice outbreak but I never got one little devil on my head. It wasn't a plague of locusts or frogs or a river turning into blood but you could call them plagues of suburbia.

It could have started in the womb. I committed a horrible sin. I absorbed my twin sister before she could even fully form. Maybe that's why my parents gave me my name...

Then after I was born when my parents were driving me home from the hospital a car hit us killing my father instantly. Miraculously I survived along with my mother but she was never the same. She lived with chronic pain for the rest of her life as well as psychotic paranoia that demons or the devil was after me.

My mother was once described as a joyful, energetic person who loved people but after the accident she became withdrawn, neurotic, and super religious. I mean seeing the Virgin Mary in a tortilla kind of religious.

A huge cross of a dying Jesus was in every room of our house or apartment. I would look at the dying Jesus and wonder what kind of sick, sadistic culture would worship a man in unending torture?

I once placed a cloth over it just to give Christ some privacy in his endless suffering. Mom beat my ass of course, saying I was disrespecting Jesus by covering him up. I thought I was giving him some amount of dignity since I was always fully clothed while he was half naked and bleeding.

But yes we moved around a lot. I never saw much of my blood relatives. I saw an uncle once and my grandparents came to visit but then mom would have an episode or they would get in an argument and we'd pack up and move again.

I thought the world was just nuts but at some point as you get older you start to wonder... Is it me? At first I was bothered by all these crazy things when I was a kid. What child wouldn't?

You just get used to the tragedy. After a certain point you just accept you're cursed. I had no idea how cursed I was until the day I got this strange magic tattoo on my arm...

***

My head was pounding as if someone took a hammer and nail to my skull. Or maybe I was hit by a bus after... what did I do after the bar last night? What day was it? I opened my eyes.

Everything before me was one bright blob. After a while my vision adjusted and I saw the familiar brown and burgundy palette on the carpet in the living room of my apartment. I guess I never made it to the couch.

My back ached, stiff from my passing out on the floor. I tried to sit up but the room began to spin. I felt sick. I needed to lie back down for a minute. The shades were open letting in the sunlight.

Either from the morning or afternoon I didn't know. I shielded my eyes from the harsh light and that's when I noticed it... Something was tattooed on my arm. It was quite beautiful in its simplicity: a trident going through a full circle then two straight lines.

"What the hell...," I groaned. I rolled over finally able to stomach the idea of standing. I somehow made it to the bathroom, my stomach churning as I went like a raging sea.

I splashed some cold water on my face. The shock made me more aware of my surroundings. Unfortunately the minty green palette I had chosen for my bathroom was not helping my nausea.

I only had 3 drinks last night. There was some guy at the bar... Handsome guy. Damn... Panic seized my insides as I considered the possibility that I was ruffied then raped behind some dumpster but how did I get home?

I didn't feel any pain in my vagina or my asshole but that didn't mean he didn't do anything. I took another look at my arm. The one with the strange tattoo on it to be sure I wasn't imagining it. Some hangover hallucination. Sure enough there it was. Freshly applied.

At that point my stomach had had enough. I felt the contents of last night returning, a bulge inching up my throat at a fast pace. I ran for the toilet then spewed all the alcohol and chicken fries from last night.

I'm not a huge drinker. My room mate's the partier. She's a pro. Actually she's a stripper paying her way through nurse school. (Ironically she dressed as a naughty nurse for work).

Lucky me I needed one right about now. Elena walked in just in time to catch me lying next to the toilet, holding onto the white porcelain as if it were a life saver and I was adrift at sea.

Oh no the sea... I hurled once more just as Elena came in to see what was the matter.

"Jesus!" Elena wasn't used to seeing me hunched over a toilet. She instinctively held my black hair back as I had done for her many times. "Did you catch a stomach virus or something?"

I leaned over the toilet bowl, holding my throbbing head in my hand then groaned in short incomplete sentences, "Bar... Hot guy..."

"You went with out me?" Naomi sounded incredulous. I managed to look up and see she was still in uniform. Her D-Cup breasts stuffed into a white nurse halter top, white fish net stockings, a nurse cap with a red cross and a stethoscope hanging around her neck. Elena Cortez was the hottest Latina you could ever meet in a Philadelphia strip club. The most popular given her natural Ds.

If you put two of us side by side you would say Elena was the hottest. My breasts are slightly smaller than hers and my lips are not as luscious. I was plain next to her.

She had perfect bronzed cappuccino skin where I was pale, lustrous dark brown locks where my hair was like a dirty raven, not one pimple on her perfect face with it's beautiful angles where I had freckles on round cheeks. Big chocolate brown eyes you could swim in where as my eyes were like mud pools.

Just when I thought there was nothing more in my body more fluids rose in my throat. Elena shook her head. A ringing started in my head that would not quit.

"I'll get you some ginger," she said as she made her way to the kitchen. "I can't believe you partied without me!"

I heard the cabinets close and shut, the room spinning when she came back with a glass of water, ginger and some honey for flavor. "I've been begging you to let me get you drunk and you go out and do it without me?"

"I only had three drinks...," I moaned. "I think..."

The drink was awful even with the honey.

"Of what? Long Island Ice Teas? And what's that tattoo? You said you would never get a tattoo ever!"

I looked at the strange tattoo on my right wrist.

"Obviously I wasn't sober," I retorted.

"You need to stay away from hot guys at bars," Elena shook her head, her auburn curls bouncing as she did, "unless I'm with you. Looks like you need a supervisor."

My cell phone rang. The vibration emanated from my back pocket. My stripper room mate took the liberty of taking the phone from me since I couldn't move a muscle without getting motion sickness. Elena looked at the Caller ID and smiled impishly.

"Oh it's your boyfriend," she spoke coyly. "Sam Cavanaugh."

"Eww," I felt sick again. "He's my step-brother."

"Wish I had a handsome black guy as my step-brother," Elena winked then she said something lewd in Spanish which I will not repeat because I have some amount of class.

Sam and I had known each other since we were 10 years old. His father took me in even after mom... well that's later but what you need to know is Bill Cavanaugh is a nice guy mechanic who gave me some much needed structure. He made mom better, less strict, more calm but that was the calm before the shit storm...

"Give it to me," I commanded irritably. Elena handed me the phone with her coy smile then went to go change for class.

"Hey...," I groaned.

"Yikes," Sam chuckled. "You sound like someone put you through the blender."

"She was partying all night!" Elena called as she exited the bathroom. I threw a decorative green flower soap at her in retaliation. She only laughed as it missed her.

"I think I went over board," I excused myself.

"That happens," Sam chuckled. "You should have seen me during mid terms..."

For a while the strange tattoo problem went to the back of my mind until the next time.

***

Later that day some weird stuff began happening to me. Not so much as stuff as crazy almost real dreams. I didn't bother to show up for classes. Being that I would only miss the beginning of my Fall Semester I wasn't too worried about missing much work.

Elena helped me into bed leaving me some aspirin, water and a bucket. As soon as my head hit the pillow I was off to dreamland. I woke up on a stone altar in an old Greek Temple. Statues of Greek Gods and Goddesses glared down at me with their terrible eyes frozen in angry judgement. I was wearing a long pure white tunic dress that Greek women used to wear with a golden laurel belt.

Then there was a white blinding light shining at the corner of my eye. I turned to see an ancient black amphora made of polished onyx with white light seeping from the cracks trying to escape but the jar was wrapped in chains held together by a large old pad lock with no key hole. Grotesque creatures and tortured souls were carved into the surface and it was calling to me in murmurs and whispers.

Common sense told me to stay away... but it was like the box and I were two magnets that were drawn to each other. My birthmark itched furiously. I thought if I scratched it enough I would tear the very skin off but then I heard a man's voice.

"It is your birth right," a voice told me. I turned to see a man I've never seen before wearing long black robes like the Satanists in music videos. He was pale and seemed to be in his late 30s but kinda hot with his penetrative clear sky blue eyes and jet black hair. He gave me a look that suggested he knew me though I'm sure we never met.

I suddenly felt very cold. I rubbed my arms trying to create some heat but to no avail. I did feel a warmth coming from the amphora. Like a bon fire, a beacon on a hill the box called to me. From it leaked a purple mist. I walked towards it feeling the cold trying to set into my bones.

I finally reached the jar. I wanted to open it. I needed to open it to see what was inside even though my conscience was telling me to leave it alone. Something evil lurked within the onyx pottery.

"You are the Harbinger," the man said. "It is your destiny."

The need devoured me on the inside. The fact that I didn't have a key meant nothing. If I could just touch the amphora the storm inside me would lessen. Yet when I was about to try and pry the lid a hand pressed hard and fast against mine. I looked up and it was Sam with his hazel brown eyes.

"Don't do it," he said in a commanding voice I never heard him use before. That's when I woke up. My head was still pounding but my pillow and hair were wet from my cold sweat with a feeling of dread twisting my stomach. I scratched at my strange birth mark trying to calm myself down.

***

I decided to brush it off. I've had worse hang over dreams. Some of them involved sex with my favorite actor (man or woman didn't matter) but none were as clear and vivid as that one. Still I decided to blame it on the tequila.

I had to get to my Occult/Mythology Studies class. As boring as it sounds it's actually quite fun. You learn about all the crazy shit people used to believe in or how much all religions have in common.

I missed my 3 classes yesterday but at least I made this one. I found Sam in the back of the class, his jacket on the seat next to him. Why he wanted to have a degree in Anthropology was beyond me. He was here on a Football scholarship. The best on the team. I just assumed he was one of those guys who had layers.

"Hey," I whispered as I sat down slowly as the room was a bit shaky.

"Hey, Johnny Depp," Sam chuckled as he touched my Top Gun sunglasses. "Still hung over?"

"Shhhhh must you be so loud?" I chided him. The class room was an amphitheater with a large screen.

"You almost missed it," Sam whispered. A few girls turned around giving Sam the eye. His chocolate muscles tested the limits of his tight cotton sleeves. All he did was give them a slight polite nod.

"When was the last time you had a girlfriend?" I asked curiously.

"What do I need a girlfriend for when I already have you and Elena to take care of me and nag me?"

"Neither of us sleep with you," I added. Sam went suddenly quiet. His expression drawn in an emotion I couldn't understand. He deserved a girlfriend. He was hot and nice which was a rare combination. I resolved to set him up before the semester was over.

"Anyway...," I quickly changed the subject. "When's the mystery professor going to grace us with his presence? Never even heard of the guy."

As soon as I said it I got my answer and I when I saw him my heart nearly stopped.

"Good morning, all," he had a British accent which made all the girls sit at attention creating a wetness in their loins.

But what caught me off guard was that he looked exactly like the guy in my weird Greek dream.

"My name is Professor Jasper A. Martel and I'll be your guide into the religions and culture of the Ancient World."

All the girls shot "love me" eyes while the guys glared daggers at the new handsome professor who would be their competition. He might as well have been Indiana Jones but more sophisticated looking and much more charismatic.

"Tessa? You sure you shouldn't be back in bed? You look like you're about to puke."

But I couldn't hear Sam nor could I see anyone else in the room. Heat crawled up my spine and I scratched at my birthmark as my mystery tattoo hidden under my long sleeve prickled. I watched Professor Martel pacing and charming his new students.

He wore a smoky grey shirt and slacks and black shoes that were all too fine for a common college professor to wear. He must come from money. His shirt was also a bit tight. Tight enough that you could see he worked out a little. He was in his late 30s but his hair remained jet black.

"Now I know your other professors like to get to know each students name before they start," Martel said with a dazzling smile. "But I like to get to know my students through out the semester. I see each of you has a brilliant mind and has a passion for understanding the nature of humanity..."

The rest of what he said I couldn't remember. I was still in my dream with the devil onyx amphora with the dark voices. Suddenly the lights exploded in the room. First they flickered then the bulbs exploded along with the projector above Sam and me.

"Watch out!" Sam didn't give me much warning as he covered me with his whole body to protect me from the shards of glass and sparks. Everyone screamed in surprise then cried out in incoherent terror.

Sam's hard body was hot against mine. I heard his calm breath on my neck and quickening heart beat in the darkness. I focused on those two things to settle myself.

"You okay?" Sam asked.

"I'm glad you remembered your deodorant this morning but next time ease up on the Axe body spray," I was trying to break the tension with humor but Sam remained serious. Finally I said I was fine. Sam helped me up holding onto my hand a bit too long until I pulled it back awkwardly.

"Relax, people," Professor Martel called out with absolute calm. "Your excitement for a new semester must have over loaded the power in the room... or the Dean skipped on the electric bill and the company wanted to get a message across."

There was some nervous laughter in the room. A calm British voice always seems to make any crisis better. But then Martel looked to me and our eyes locked. Instead of showing fear, Professor Martel smiled.

***

The moment I opened my eyes, I knew things would be different. I hadn't been to classes for 3 weeks. The leaves already changing their colors from emerald green to an array of reds, yellows, and oranges. Soon they'll all be on the ground, a sickly brown being crunched under many students in a hurry to get to the next class or next wild party.

I kept having the same dream: Professor Jasper A. Martel in his black robes in the Greek Temple with the stone altar and the evil mystery jar. How did I know that it was evil? You don't chain up a jar that whispers if it's a nice one. I felt that if that jar were opened then the world would end.

I felt something stir beside me. I rolled over to see Jason twitching his nose. Sex was the best way to get over anything that was really bugging me.

Lately it was the only thing that made sense anymore. Jason's green eyes fluttered open. He smiled as he noticed me watching him.

"Good morning, beautiful...," Jason stretched and yawned. I smiled, the disturbing dream melting away as I admired Jason's muscles become taut and flex with each stretch. I couldn't help myself as I kissed him in response.

"Ready for round... what are we up to?" Jason pondered.

"I believe it's 4 in the afternoon on a Wednesday," I assured him. Jason rolled over to meet my gaze. His fingers traced down my arm to my hip. He brought me closer kissing me slowly.

"Not that I didn't like last night or the night before but shouldn't you be in class, Tessa?"

"Can't a girl play hookie?" I climbed on top of him pinning his arms back and going in for another kiss.

"For you it just seems..."

"Spontaneous..." I kissed his neck.

"Weird but sure," Jason shrugged. "Usually you're all anal about this academic stuff." I ignored Jason's dumb remarks until he made a comment about my mystery tattoo.

"Hey did you become a Satanist or something?"

"I'm an atheist," I muttered. "I don't believe in God or the Devil."

"Do you remember where you got it because I would love to get ink like that."

Jason had a tendency to undue all the work his well marbled body did by talking. I rolled off of Jason then climbed out of bed, my ardor dampened by this persistent line of questioning.

"It's nothing. I got drunk one night and just found it there. No big deal," I sighed.

"Heard what happened in the new professor's class," Jason laid back on my pillow, the blanket barely covering his junk.

"Can we not discuss that, please," I was getting annoyed.

"Why? Did you use your voodoo powers to make it happen?" Jason teased. "Anything to do with your mom?"

"My mom is in an asylum," I retorted as I shoved myself into my pants. "Far away from me. I couldn't be happier."

"Oh wait isn't it your birthday next week?"

That was it. My skull became a burning itch I wanted to scratch. I had enough. I picked up Jason's skinny jeans then threw them violently at his face crying, "Get out!"

"What's you're problem?" Jason protested. But I went into the bathroom and locked the door. I sat on my toilet seat with only my jeans and a simple bra on, holding my head in my hands listening to Jason get dressed then leave.