“Mother, come back” He considered jumping into the black ominous water of Thames in pure desperation, but fear crept around his body like binding creepers and held him back. The water kept calling out to him, lulling enticingly, raising a seducing melody by it’s to & fro motion, its depth boundless. He watched the boating vessel carrying his mother getting further and further away. His Heart constricted. He screamed, but no one paid any attention to him. His mother disappeared from his view slowly, like a slow torturous death. Finally, his mother was not visible anymore, swallowed by the horizon. People were already starting to disperse. He curled his fists in anger, fuming. His screams lost to deaf ears. Anger was bubbling inside him like hot lava, he was about to erupt. He flipped around to see the little royal party, all collected under their little canopy, turned out in their funeral best, as if gathered to witness a melodramatic tragedy. Now they were getting ready to disperse, as in the end of a play. He started running up the passage, his heart beating furiously. His Father, pretending to be solemn and sad sighing heavily was being helped to his feet by his personal guard. The queen sitting beside him, her evil black eyes, unfathomable, held a solemn expression on her face, fit for the occasion. Nobody paid any attention to him as he rushed furiously towards them. Something felt heavy in his hand and to his utter surprise he saw that he was already holding an unsheathed sword, black and dangerous, in his left hand. On reaching the landing, he pushed the king’s personal guard angrily out of the way. Only then the king seemed to have become aware of him.
“aah Hades my boy….” The king
started. He held the sword with both his hands drew it back and flung it into
his father’s chest without a second thought, blood poured out, staining his
hands and garment.
“My son…How could…” He stabbed it
deeper. His father was spluttering blood, slowly losing his
balance.
The queen started screaming
suddenly, and his half-brother howled even louder. His father took two steps
towards him, his hand outstretched, his eyes wide in shock and then collapsed
on the ground.
All the noise was starting to
give him a terrible headache. His vision started to blur. He staggered
unsteadily and collided on to somebody behind him. He whipped around; to behold
a pair of cold grey eyes staring icily back at him. He was face to face with a
familiar looking young boy, with smooth shiny black hair and a face, with very
sharp features. The boy looked deathly pale and there were trail of tears
smeared on his face. For a moment they both just stared at each other.
Realization dawned on him and he gasped loudly. He was staring at his 5-year
old self from back when had lost his mother. What kind of sorcery is this?
“What have you done?” the boy asked
stoically.
“What have you done?” The boy
repeated his voice getting louder.
“What have you done Hades?”
People had started murmuring,
their voices rising like the buzz of bees, slowly increasing in volume.
“What have you done Hades?” The
boy was practically screaming his fists curled in fury, his eyes screwed shut,
tears streaming down his face.
People were looking at him
accusatorily. He could hear the queen’s voice in the background, somewhere
faraway, barking some order crisply. Slowly the murmur was growing louder, the
news of the king’s murder spreading. He looked at his hand. They were dripping
in blood. He saw members of the king’s order, warrior of the highest ranking,
making their way hurriedly towards him. They all had seemed unaware up to this
moment.
“No” he whispered. He was not
going to let them put him away in the abyss. His father was no saint and
deservedly dead. He made a bolt past the 5-year-old him, running through the
narrow passage way, jumping down the descending platforms. The warriors were on
the run after him. The barrier on both sides, kept the crowd behaved, though
some lunged at him. Moments before his mom was carried through the same lane,
the crowd mourning, the warriors carrying her lifeless body, with the highest
honors she was set afloat on Thames, cherished. Now he was running down the
same lane, the crowd was yelling for his head, warriors running after him to
throw him in to the infinite abyss, defamed. He reached the edge of the
embankment, panting. He did not even have to look back to know the warrior were
almost upon him. In front lay the black, in venerable Thames, foreboding as
ever. There was no choice. There was but one choice.
“Mother, here, I come to you.”
The black water gushed around
him, pushing him down, as if it were an infinite wall, smothering him. He
gaggled, Fought, jerked his hands and legs, ready to do anything to ease his
suffering.
But his vision had slowly begun
to darken and his Chest constricted uncomfortably. He was drowning, drowning in
Thames, drowning in sorrow, drowning in despair. He really could not breathe
anymore. So he stopped. He stopped trying to breathe and Let himself be
embraced by Thames, while he embraced death.
“No”
