Read My Shorts

It's all Greek to Me

It's all Greek to Me

The hospital pillows framed his mother's pale, pain etched face. A faint smile ghosted her lips and she looked in turn at her son, and the old man next to her.  As the monitors blared a monotone siren of loss, her eyes closed and her face smoothed in relief.

Later, when the nurses had left the room, Nigel sat and held his father's withered hand in silence.

"It won't be long now son." The old man spoke quietly in the darkened room, making him jump. "I'm next. I've not got a lot of time left now son. Your mother was the last of her kind, as am I, and as in a way are you. Everything is going to change..."

The old man closed his eyes, took a deep slow breath and concentrated. A clawed hand reached upwards as he stood, and Nigel watched open-mouthed as tiny motes of light span in ever growing numbers around the form of his father. Faster and faster, the maelstrom of tiny lights swirled until, blinded, Nigel looked away his hands covering his eyes. When he opened them again, a tall, forty-something, male stood before him holding a sword.

"What the hell?" managed Nigel.

"Hmm," said the man. "Not quite as young as I'd hoped, but there you go; only so much power left I suppose." He stretched and sat down next to his bewildered son. "That's better, I've been wanting to do that for forty odd years."

He offered the hilt to Nigel. "Your sword son."

"My what?"

"Sword boy, sword: long metal pointy object for killing things. Hold the blunt end, there's a good lad."

Nigel took the weapon and placed it carefully on the bed where it couldn't do any harm.

"Right, we've not got much time so I'd better explain myself. Shut up. Listen and ask questions at the end, okay?"

Nigel nodded mutely and his younger looking father started to speak. "I said that your mother was the last: she was. She was the last High Priestess of the Temple of Zeus, greatest of the Greek Gods."

The ex-old man paused and grinned. "Perhaps I build myself up a little, but I am Zeus, and in my heyday I was truly great. Now I am old and tired, and a shadow of my former self. For what is a god without belief? Your mother was the last priestess, and the last of those who truly believed. Without that belief, I will now fade and cease. Without the love of that woman there is little point existing anyway."

He paused for a moment and gathered himself. "Now, I can see that you are thinking you believe in me after what you have just witnessed, but I'm afraid you don't count son, as you are the son of a God. In old parlance: a Hero."

He bowed his head and concentrated again, motes of light coalescing into more forms on the bed beside the sword.

"These are to help you. The bow of Artemis and the shield of Athena, your half sisters; the sandals of Hermes and the spear of Ares, your half brothers; and the helm of Hades, your uncle. The sword was Heracles', your half brother."

"Never doubt that. You are my son, my only son for over a thousand years. The other gods have faded away, mere whispers on the winds of time. All of the old creatures; the nymphs, fairies, centaurs and Cyclops, have gone. They too were dependant on belief and magic."

"I say all."

He paused, looking old again as grief and the mistakes of his past caught up with him.

"We thought we would never end: we are immortal but never thought we would disappear before the onslaught of the White Christ."

"We penned all the Titans, creatures of darkness and evil spirits in the chambers of Hades. Hades is timeless: timeless in order to extend the punishment. They have been tortured for aeons, enduring pain beyond the ken of mortal men; no end in sight... until now."

He paused, breathing heavily. Zeus had aged noticeably during the conversation; hair becoming greyer, breath unsteady, and lines developing on his face.

"I am the last thing standing in the way of their freedom," he whispered.

He hauled himself to his feet and motioned for Nigel to do the same. "You're in for a tough ride son, but you're up to it. You are the last true Hero. I can do little more other than pass on what I know and equip you for the battles ahead. Your mother loved you with all her heart, as do I.

"Goodbye son."

The old man hugged him and, as Nigel hugged him back in bewildered speechlessness, the old man began to glow anew. Energy permeated through Nigel, warming him from the inside, filling him with power and knowledge. Everything the old man had seen and done filled his mind, the towering self-belief and ego of a God filling his being. He held on tight, feeling the love of both him and his mother flowing into his soul.

And then he was gone.

Nigel's arms closed around the empty space, and he bowed his head in grief. His gaze caught his reflection in the window. Dressed in armour now; the bow was strapped across his back, winged sandals covered his feet and the other weapons, shield and helm rested on the bed ready for his use.

Nigel smiled grimly as screams began in the grounds of the hospital. Confidence filled him and he picked up the sword, the knowledge of its use engraved on his mind.

"Okay Dad, let's see if we can sort this mess out," he said to the few remaining motes of light as they winked out of existence. "Honestly old man, I don't mind doing all this but couldn't you have called me something more heroic than Nigel?"

He put on the helmet, lifted the shield and, as the fires of Hades lit the sky, the last and greatest of the Greek Heroes leapt through the open window to join the final battle.

~~~ The End ~~~