The Death of an Olympian

The Death of an Olympian

            Have you ever been beaten by a god, an immortal with seemingly unimaginable power and strength? I’m not talking about losing a bout to misplaced faith to a deity or lack of belief to any particular religion that promotes a divinity. No, instead I’m truly speaking of a hands down, old fashion fight where two people put it on the line and pummel each other until only a victor stands. I like to think that perhaps this how any war should be fought, those with the problems should get together and either pick out a date or maybe let it happen right then and there but alas that is not the case. Imagine though a scrap that is not between two men but rather between a mortal and immortal. One with finite life and strength while the other contains the infinite energies of the universe.

            I had once read in the Old Testament were the patriarch Jacob of the Israelites had found himself wrestling with a “dark angel”. In the course of this story he wrestles with this angel throughout the night until the near breaking of dawn where the angel requests to be released despite throwing Jacob’s hip out of joint. In spite of this injury Jacob manages to hang on and agrees but only on the condition if his opponent would bless him. This “dark angel” obliges Jacob and in the process renames him Israel saying to him “you have striven with God and with men and have prevailed”. As I found myself beaten and broken on the cool marble floor of Temple of Apollo, I remembered back to this story and I kept hoping that perhaps Apollo would instead bless me rather than ending my life. On the other hand though I suppose if I were in his shoes I wouldn’t have much mercy either if a mortal had thought he could end me.

            Standing menacingly across from me I could barely make out any of his features due to the shining radiance that seemed to gush from his body but also because of my smashed eye. Despite the blurring of my vision, I could tell he was pissed, not through his facial features but rather the brilliance of reddish purple that raged out from his being. It seemed that my attempt at his life not only infuriated him off but it truly had gotten under his skin. He seethed with anger at the perceived disrespect that a puny human had attempted to visit upon him and as I laid there he made his way to me closing the distance between us. I could tell that he was shouting and yelling at me but because of the building pressure of the concussion that I had received from that last blow but also the ringing in my ears I had no idea what he was saying to me. I actually felt like I was Beethoven because I could feel the vibrations of his powerful words instead of hearing them. I actually felt humor from this or rather would have if I hadn’t felt so numb from the terrific beating that I had received.

             As Apollo continued to berate me with what appeared unabated chastisement, I struggled to look upon him with my one good eye. Despite him coming closer to me, his brilliance was much too bright and the vision in my remaining good eye had become much like that of the skipping of an old fashion movie reel. It reminded me of being too drunk and I found myself turning my head to the right and throwing up onto the marble floor.  I looked down on the pooling of the vomit and when I looked up I found my vision to somewhat stabilized.

            Standing over me Apollo was above me and despite the angry light that split from him it I still found it warm to the touch. Actually from his head shone a light of brilliance that I seriously could only describe as biblical as it ensconced his head. Attached to his back was a bow that was not only a mechanical but also very compact bowt. Aside from that I noticed that he had the appearance of a young man with an athletic shape like that of a runner combined with the broad shoulders of a professional archer. As I looked upon this youthful though unimaginably aged immortal I found humor in my situation.

Through my swollen lips I spoke with the most bravado that I could possible muster, “For a god… you hit like a bitch….” I spat as blood drooled slowly from my lips.

This seemed to catch him off guard as his jaw had stopped working and was now wide open as he stood there in mild surprise. For a god of prophecy I would have figured it difficult to catch him off guard. This didn’t last though as Apollo’s confusion was short lived as he realized that I had managed to get the best of him. So he returned the favor with a swift kick to the ribs, which sent me flying further across the temple yet again. This last blow not only flung me into a corner of the temple but also seemed to crush my insides with the force of his kick.

Against the wall I slowly propped myself up with my good arm and watch as Apollo once again made his way to me. Calmly he walked and he seemed to be once again talking aloud about his greatness. Something along the lines of how he had not only defeated me but how humanity would also be defeated. He tone carried a calmness that reverberated with his command of voice as he spoke and which could be further felt through the vibrations through the floor. Once again I felt much like Beethoven though this comparison is far and few between from his experience.

Despite being unable to truly hear what he had to say, I had gathered from his inflection and tone that I had not only obviously failed but I had also guaranteed  my own death at his hands and my eternal damnation to Hades. Or at least something like that as I prepared myself for him to deliver to m my death as surely he would be my killer. As he approached I could see that he was very much fully armored from foot to his neck. In fact his armor made my own, which I had inherited, looked like child’s play compared to his own and I knew looking over my armor with my failing eye that it had seen better days but also I knew this was my only chance to perhaps make a difference.

When he had reached my body, Apollo knelt down and slowly looked over the damage he had rent upon my body. He halted his gaze on my face and took within his hand my jaw, forcing my barley functioning eye to look upon him. He had a genuine look of concern on his face as he studied me as he leered only perhaps a foot away from my own face. Also though his brilliance seemed to shift and it shined all upon me as he as so close to me being. Yet this was the very opportunity that I desired with which to strike and with a speed I had not known since my early youth I shot out my strong arm grabbing him at the neck.

I encased his throat, the one area of his body other than his face not covered by his exquisite armor, between the strength of my fingers. With what strength I had left I squeezed with all my might and I crushed his wind pipe. Not only that though but I further felt his spinal cord literally shatter under my grip as I ended his life. As his life force ebbed from him, the brilliance of his golden iris eyes seemed to lose their luster as the color of life left his face. Furthermore, his face seemed to have a look surprise at the moment of his death.  His face showed true shock and as I slowly I release my grip from his tender throat Apollo’s body fell over mine.

After struggling to remove his body, I rose and had the feeling that this must be what a victor would feel after facing a fight to the death and surviving to live. Only in this case not only had I seemingly survived but I had also killed an immortal. Seeing Apollo dead, I came to the realization that he was like any other person I had seen die in this senseless war between man and the return of “immortal” beings as I step over his body and struggled to make my way out his temple. The brilliance of light seemed to fade from his being much like that of the embers of a dying flame.

 However though with a great exhale of breath I tossed back my head and closed my good eye, as the other had permanently closed from swelling, and I tried to calm the inner fury that I felt. It was a blood lust unlike any I had experienced but the need to survive was much greater than spilling blood. I slowly walked but before I made my way to the entrance, I stopped and stooped down to retrieve Apollo’s quiver and bow. I felt that perhaps not only my life but these trophies of war would be proof enough of my deed in the first death of the returned gods of Hellenic antiquity. Yet when I reached the limits of Apollo’s now tomb, I found myself at this point facing an army of dismayed worshippers and priests.  They intrinsically knew what had occurred and looked upon me with hatred as well as the desire to end me.  Thus having no other choice, in order to survive I strung my bow and with my remaining eye let lose a storm of etheric arrows.