May the Gods Forgive Me
Posted on | February 16, 2008 |
I stood at the doorway of my neighbors home. In my hands I held a short-sword, a small but sturdy weapon, and upon the sword were the stains of those I had slain in the past. Those that I had slain in battle, in conflict, in justice. Today, my sword was stained with the blood of innocence, of ambiguity and of indecision.
Today, my sword was stained with the blood of my neighbor. Just moments ago I had taken this blade, of which I had so diligently sharpened just earlier this morning, and thrust it into his still-beating heart. Before he could scream I removed the blade and swiped at this neck, cutting his neck so severely that no words escaped his lips as they moved.
And I had done it all in rage.
I had done it all in triumph.
I had made a mistake.
I took his body and dragged it from the kitchen to the bedroom, taking the care to place him gently in his bed. Beside his body I placed my sword and my knife, now crimson in color. With those weapons I placed my dignity, my pride, my deservingness to live. I knew already what was to become of me, and while moments ago I had readily accepted my fate, I now questioned its necessity.
I closed his bedroom door and snuck out behind his house, taking great lengths to ensure that I was not spotted by anyone. Our village, Ramados, is small compared to the great cities of Athens, Troy, or Sparta, but it has always carried a certain importance that seemed to linger in the air. It was ever-present, and every man, woman, and child that inhabited the village carried that feeling with a certain amount of respect and pride.
My neighbors house was a few minutes away from the banks of the town river, and luckily for me the path to the banks was shrouded by olive trees and incredibly tall grass. Moving within the grass I soon found myself at the banks of the river, unnoticed. I was still covered in his blood- I could feel it eating away at my skin, as if to remind me of the horrible thing that I had done.
Yes, it was horrible. Every moment of it was pure agony, for both myself and for him. Every thrust of my blade, every sound that he made- it all reverberated within my mind, as if it were a never-ending loop. Even as I frantically washed myself in the river I could see myself forcing my silver into his golden flesh. I could see my blade piercing his skin. I could see my blade ending his life.
I felt weak suddenly, and without warning I found my knees collapsing. I crashed into the water, and as the river was only a few inches deep at the particular spot that I was washing myself at, my head hit the riverbed. It was at that moment that I lost consciousness.
I awoke some time later. My head throbbed, and fresh blood ran down the right side of my body. My blood, coming from the now-open wound on the side of my head. Funny- in the water I can not tell the difference between my blood and the blood of my neighbor. The same, sickening crimson wafted down the stream.
I ripped off my clothes and desperately began to scrub them. The blood, my blood, his blood, it would not wash out. It remained ever-present in my clothes, seemingly refusing to dilute or fade. There it remained, as rich and colourful as the moment that it had gushed from his neck. It was terrifying, yet strangely wonderful at the same time. Despite my actions I could not help but find this fact sickeningly beautiful.
I was marked. Others would know, and I would never forget.
I heard a rustle in the grass behind me. It was faint at first, as if someone was making light footsteps, but then it grew louder. Whoever was there did not care if I saw them or not. I turned to face the sound, and to my surprise I found not a man but instead a wolf. It’s fur was a brilliant white, absent of any stains or impurities.
I turned and resumed my washing. If this creature wanted my life it would have taken it already. Not only that, but absent of a weapon, I’d be powerless to stop it anyway.
“Do not turn your back to me.” The sound was ominous. In the pit of my stomach I felt a sudden stabbing pain, and suddenly I began to realize what was happening.
I turned around again, and before me stood a powerfully built man. In his right hand he held a spear- it’s head was made of a golden metal, and I could see (despite being nearly twenty feet away) that it had bee recently sharpened.
As recent as this morning, perhaps.
“Who are you,” I asked, already knowing full well that before me stood Ares, the good of bloodlust.
“You know who I am. What you do not know is why I am here.” Ares pointed his spear at me, its bronzed tip gleaning in the sunlight. “I watched you slay a man today.”
“I know,” I hung my head, and at the same my mind began to race. What was going to happen now?
“I watched you massacre a man today.” Ares placed his spear back at his side and, folding his arms, he looked at me square in the eyes. “I watched you murder one man, and completely destroy another.”
Destroy another? What did he mean? I began to extrapolate the possibilities, but I was interrupted before I could truly begin.
“You have descended into madness. You have cast away your civility. You are no Greek. No, you are something else entirely.”
Before I could respond I felt an intense pressure in my stomach, followed by an unbearable heat and then insurmountable pain.
I let out a savage cry.
“Feel your pain, madman! Feel what you have wrought upon another!” Ares remain resolute. After a moment, he removed the spear from my stomach and thrust it into my still-beating heart.
I let out another cry, though this one was muted by the blood that was entering my lounges.
“Do you see now, madman, what pain that you have caused another?” Ares bellowed, suddenly appearing much taller than I had remembered him being just moments before.
I collapsed to the river bed, nodding my head. I see now what I have caused another man. I see now what I’ve done.
In death, I caused him pain. In my death, Ares granted me freedom.
Yes, I truly am mad.
With my last ounce of strength I forced a smile, and with my last breath I thanked the God of War for his grace.
The expression on his face told me that I had not grasped his point.
And then I died.
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