I sat on the cold, hard steps of the stairwell outside the large mansion that wasn't mine. The night was all around me. My worn-out, tattered dress did little to stop it's chill. I was crying. I had no-one. I had no-one. I was no-one. I was only a skinny, orphaned, seventeen-year-old. I was less than human. Everyone seemed to think so. Certainly including the people I ended up having to work for to make ends meet. And they were the people I had to spend most of my time around. I could feel life sucking my spirit from me. But pain created new spirit.
I gasp as suddenly, almost like magic, another face appears in front of my own. Where did she come from? It seems like she melted out of the shadows. She had dark skin like mine and striking blue eyes. Her mouth though. In the moonlight, I see dark red smeared all over her lips and running down her chin. It looks exactly like blood. I would have been scared. If it hadn't been for the way she was looking at me. She was sitting on her knees on the stair directly under mine. Her eyes were filled with fire, but it was the fire of caring and concern. It was the fire of protectiveness.
"Who are you?" I ask.
"A woman who doesn't belong," she replied.
"Are you going to hurt me?"
"No, Miss. Absolutely not. I saw you sitting there, and I saw how the moonlight draped itself over you like a trusting lover. The moon admires your beauty, Miss. He would ask for your hand in marriage if he could. I've never seen him love someone so beautifully. I thought I'd just let you know that." I smiled. I laughed.
"I'm not that beautiful," I told her.
"Oh but you are. Whoever told you otherwise? There's magic in your eyes, the sort of magic that's pure and good. I would ask for your hand in marriage myself if you liked girls." I smiled some more. Nobody ever told me words like these. Words so empowering.
"And I see you crying," the woman continued. "I see you with your arms around yourself, in your own embrace because no-one else is here that will embrace you. You're a dark-haired, fiery-eyed youth somewhere between girlhood and womanhood. I see your pain. I feel your pain. We all do.
"I have a story to tell you though. Have you heard the story of Icarus and the Sun? I'm sure you have. It's about a young boy who was a prisoner all his life. One day his father crafted a pair of wings for him and they left their prison. But he flew too high, towards the Sun, and the wax holding his wings together melted and he fell to his death."
"I know that story," I tell her. Greek myths were for some reason passed down amoung the Abrahemic people of this town. Perhaps because they were both entertaining and easy to remember.
"Everyone says that he was mesmerized by the Sun." The mysterious, bloody-mouthed lady was speaking to me again. "Everyone says that he was in love with Apollo, the Charioteer Olympian that stood on it each day. But we don't know that for sure.
"Icarus lived in a world that cared about him not. In a world that cared about mortals not. He lived in a world where his people were entertainment or bedwarmers or sources of praise. He lived in a world where they were immortal and he would be thrown away once the use was bled out of him. Like the rest of his people.
"Maybe his last act was not one of wonder. Maybe it was one of defiance. Maybe he looked upon Mount Olympus where the Gods would revel in revels no mortal could partake in. Maybe he looked upon the Sun in it's brilliance and how Olympian boy Apollo was the only one that could touch it, that could get near it. Maybe he saw all the glory reserved for the gods alone. And he remembered how the gods had stayed comfortable in their homes through numerous deaths and wars, how they had lengthened numerous wars, how they had killed mortal women for the sake of trying to touch them. And he decided that he would defy the gods.
"Maybe he wanted to fly higher than anyone would allow him simply because he deserved the soaring heights of the sky as much as the tall and mighty Zeus did. Maybe he wanted to touch the sun chariot simply because he deserved to as much as the entitled Apollo did. Maybe he wanted to show the Olympians that he was just as good as they were. Maybe he wanted to show the Olympians that he would not follow their rules. That he would not be the subservient creature they wanted him to be. Maybe he let go of his desire to live. He let go of his desire to hold onto food and water and air and sleep. Maybe he embraced the hard pull of gravity and the cold waves of the sea.
"Maybe he flew higher and higher. And he touched Apollo's chariot without permission.
"And he scared Mount Olympus. He made the gods tremble in fear at the boy who would never become a man. He made them tremble in fear at the boy who dared to defy them, who dared to fly through territory marked only for Zeus and touch the chariot made only for Apollo. Maybe they feared the boy who cared no longer about life. Who cared more about protest and defiance.
"And here I am Miss. I am only a young woman who wants to burn the world down. And we're only mortals in a world run by gods. Even if we're half gods. Even if your father is Zeus and my father is Poseidon. We are but mortals and we don't count. Metaphorically of course. But non-metaphorically, we don't get the things they get. We die. We fade away. We suffer. We suffer and we suffer and we suffer under their wrath.
"The blood all over your mouth. It's your own. You got that from when they hit you for breaking a vase. Why do you kneel to worship at their temples? Why you you smile meekly and keep your eyes downcast? And the world will know. And the journals too. Andre I fucking love you. Is it because you're afraid? Is it because you fear death? Is it because you fear falling into the sea?
"If you do, that's okay. That's understandable. It does not at all in any way make you a coward. But I'm here to tell you something.
"The blood all over my mouth is from a man I killed. He was a pale, square-jawed, fine-suited man with a rolex watch who I seduced in an ally. As I was kissing his neck I bit down on it. I watched him bleed out. I murdered an Olympian.
"And I'm going to kill all the gods. I'm going to do what they thought no mortal could do. I'm going to touch the sun. And if they hurt me for it I'll hurt them back. I'll kill all the gods, they'll all die at my hands. I'll kill Zeus and Poseidon and Apollo and Ares.
"And when you finally pass through the tunnel separating girlhood from womanhood, when you finallly emerge on the other side fully-realized, you are welcome to join me though you don't have to." She squeezed my hand a little bit.
And with that she faded into the night, no longer visible in the cool darkness. Like a warrior of shadow and moonlight. Like a black cat gliding through the streets.
"Wait!" I called out after her.
"Yes Miss?" she asked with some curiosity and some warmth.
"I want to go with you."
"Alright. But are you sure? It's dangerous out here. You're just a child. A demigod with a bleeding mouth and the beloved of the moon but just a child. Think about it some more and make the choice later."
"No. I want to go now. I want to kill all the gods. I want to do this not because you told me to but because I saw how my people suffered under them for so long."
"Alright but be careful." She took my hand.
And we were off. Two stray cats in the night. The person who made me bleed never saw me again. Until the night I made him bleed.
———
If you like this story check out my Twitter my handle is @FSairuv and I post about human rights, social justice, and the environment.
ns 18.68.41.141da2
