Tonight I finally reached the end of my nanowrimo, barely passing the 50,000 word minimum with a mere 50,134 words! I'm in my celebration mode, despite all of the homework I should get to doing. This is my time to brag, I suppose. In celebration of completing the novel, you will find the second chapter following this update. I'm just happy that I can finally forget about having to deal with writers block. That and I actually completed a draft of a novel, which is something really new to me. Let's just say that it is an "epic" feeling. If you really want to make sure I wrote it, you can go check out my profile on nanowrimo.org. Just look up "KunaZero" and you should find me easily. Anyways, to that chapter I promised you!
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Love: A Chaotic Insanity
Chapter 2: Chaos Ensues
The night-eyed goddess has been the only thing that I have been able to focus on for sometime. Despite my reading of the Iliad and the Odyssey over the summer (several times each actually), I have not been able to escape her grasp. Now that my first class of the year happens to be based entirely on the Iliad, the connection is starting to grow between it and the night goddess. This is dangerous. If she becomes so intertwined with something so important to me, I will never rid myself of this torment without ridding myself of the incredible stories of Homer. Yes, it is a torment. Perhaps I have not shown you enough of how much these dreams of the night-eyed goddess twist and mess with my mind. Consider now, for a mere moment, not being able to rid yourself of a repeating aspect of your dreams. Be it fear, horror, or love, eventually you really do not want to see it anymore. In my case, it is all three. I fear her infinite wrath if I ever anger her, lust for her without her lusting for me, and there is a certain horror to not being able to shake her. She controls me, and there is nothing I can do about it.
But sometimes it's alright around her. When she acknowledges my existence, I find myself bearing a smile that I adore quite a bit. She shows me that I truly am real, not just a figment of someone's imagination. Perhaps I am, however, and a figment of her imagination at that. Currently my entire existence revolves around her, the night-eyed goddess. I remember the first day I saw her, but that is a story for another time. I remember spending my times off in the endless pine trees of the surrounding forest, a place I have not been able to visit for many years. She was all that I could think of, even surrounded by the endless expanse of the world. Never once did I ever forget her. You may find her cruel, ice-cold, and evil, but to me she is the very aspect of perfection. There is no way that anyone could ever reach such a level of beauty that she, the night goddess, did. She was all I dreamed about, back in those days. Still she remains as the only thing that dares enter my dreams, but now there is a looming shadow enshrouding her. I wish I could dream that one wondrous dream again, the dream of a wishing reality.
“Back to the concept of Achilles' rage. Anyone know what importance it has in the story?” Thrasher asks to the class, sending my hand into the air above my head, which breaks the dream-cloud that hangs over my head. She gives a hesitant look at me, unwilling to deal with another outburst, but is given no other choice considering I am the only one who dared answering. “Yes, Mister Izbor?”
“Achilles is the bringer of grief in the Iliad. Whoever his endless rage is directed at suffers great grief. At the beginning of the poem, the target of his rage is the army, who did not stand up for him when Agamemnon dishonored him.” She stares at me with an astonished look on her face, slowly nodding her head. Mitchell pats me on the back, and the mirror reappears in front of me, reflecting the image of the night-eyed goddess.
“That's right... Now, can anyone else tell me who suffers the greatest grief in the poem?” I slide out of reality again, loosing interest as soon as the subject strays from the great rage of Achilles, the raging lion. The greatest sufferer of Achilles' rage is Hector, the gentle protector of Troy. But this is only after Hector kills Patroclus, Achilles' lover, as I like to call him. The worst part is that Hector is only the one who struck the final blow; he is innocent. Patroclus was stripped of his armor first by Apollo, and then struck by some other soldier before Hector comes and finishes him off. The gentle protector isn't really the killer of Patroclus, Apollo is. But Achilles doesn't know this and tears Hector apart, showing no care for the warrior's code after defeating the gentle protector in battle, and abuses the body publicly around the walls of Troy so that they could all see.
The reflection of the night-eyes watch me from the mirror, sending chills down my spine. I meet them with my own, but quickly bounce around what else I can see through the mirror. Her smooth night skin, dark flowing locks, and her night-eyes are all that I can see through the mirror. She is the beautiful moonlight night that couples wish they could share. Never before have I ever laid eyes on something so beautiful and so wonderful. Soon I will find see her, the beautiful night, in the moonlit world after the sun falls beneath the horizon. I can't wait. Surely her beauty will be multiplied ten-fold. And to think that the night I cannot wait to see is so close.
I begin to smile at her through the mirror. She instantly looks away and puts away the mirror. I look down at my hands and think about the fires that dance around her again. There has to be a way to be more like them. I imagine thousands of flames dancing in the palm of my hand, but they are still out of reach. Slowly, they come closer, bringing a new sort of madness with them. “Hey, Styr. What you looking at your hands for, dude?
My shifting eyes run up to find Mitchell looking at me from where Zilia was seemingly moments ago. “It's nothing, don't worry about it.” I look around the room. “Hey, where did everyone go?”
Laughing a little, he replies, “the bell rang, man. Come on, let's get out of here!” He grabs his stuff off of my desk and turns around. His head looks over his shoulder saying, “you've started sleeping with your eyes open!”
I laugh along with him, thinking he's insane. I wasn't sleeping, was I? I reach out and grab my pencil, along with a little black notebook that I use to write down story ideas in. Perhaps I've forgotten to mention my deepest passion in life (besides Zilia), and that is writing. Writing is the only thing I seem to be able to do well, besides screwing up, of course. I've tried writing novels, but I haven't been able to get enough inspiration for them yet. I've been hoping that Zilia will inspire one. So far, I've had no luck. Everything just seems a little too crazy to write down as a story. “Let's go.”
My unstable chair falls back as I stand up. It hits the ground with a resonating thud and I'm back to think about how Zilia hit the tree because of me. How could I let that happen to her? What if she doesn't want to meet up in the moonlight after that? Maybe I should talk to her. No. That's insane. Even if I did have a chance, going up to her and asking that wouldn't be a smart idea.
Mitchell and I exit the room quickly, disliking classrooms so much that we often compare it with hell. Too often do I say that my dried blood-red hair is even scared to stay in the room alone. That's how much we dislike it there. The only good thing about it, and it's not something I plan on telling Mitchell, is the fact that Zilia is in it. It's almost as if hell and heaven came together.
“Dude, I'm starting to think I should have read the Iliad with you over the summer. You're going to destroy that class with your marks.” Mitchell says to me. I smile at him and nod, happy that I can finally seem like the smart kid in the class.
“If you ever end up reading it, you should probably skip book 2. It is the most boring and useless thing I have ever seen. It's like a catalogue of all the different people involved in the war. Too boring!” I laugh, mostly because it's true. Most, if not all, of book 2 is spent talking about where different groups fighting in the wars come from and how many ships they have. We really do not care who has fifty ships and who has forty; it's just not information that we would bother remembering.
He laughs. “Got it. Book 2 is so boring I'll probably die.” Not what I said, but it's close enough. Whatever stops him from attempting to read that boring book. Even I found it too boring, and that's saying something considering one day I sat down and read the dictionary. Did you know that... Never mind. I don't even remember myself. It's the sort of thing that you read and forget that you were alive while reading it. I really recommend reading it. After you finish it, you'll feel very alive!
“Pretty much. So are you going to need me to help you with your homework?” I say, half-laughing. “You know I can't do it for you. Thrasher has had me for the past couple years, so she knows exactly how I write.”
My trusted companion looks at me and says, “damn it! I was so hoping to do that again!” We both laugh a most jolly laugh, knowing that I have never actually done his homework before. The joke is an ongoing joke picked up a few years back when the teacher accused us of sharing answers, when we really just wrote the same thing. We almost were failed, but they had no way to prove it, considering we were in different classes at the same time. It's freaky sometimes, how much we think alike. But there are things that we differ immensely, such as our views of Zilia. To me, she's a deathless goddess, and the night itself. To him, she's nothing but a, excuse my language, “stuck up bitch”. As he just so elegantly put it as he goes on about the tree incident.
“Seriously, dude, why did you go help her? I know you like her and everything, but it would have been so funny to watch her fall on her ass!” My eyes bounce around the hallway, watching all of the people pass us by. They quickly look at him to give him a look that says “it's something else.”
My mouth picks up and says, “It's weird. That branch shouldn't have broken because she got closer to the trunk, but farther... It doesn't make any sense.” This thought just occurred to me. Why did the branch only break when she started to get close to me? Was the tree somehow trying to show me something? “I know I must sound insane, but I think something broke the branch on purpose.”
“Yeah, gravity.” Mitchell tells me, laughing as he walks away. “I've got to go meet up with a friend of mine, Krystal. She's a really cool girl, and I think you should meet her. Maybe she'll put some brains back into your head.”
I laugh at that idea. “Good luck with that! Have fun, man! I think I'm going to go climb that tree!” He waves me off, and I walk out into the courtyard in a curious stride. I'm hoping to get some information about this mysterious, but wonderful, tree. When I arrive, the sun comes out from behind some grey clouds and shines down on the area, bringing a vibrant life back to the area. It's beautiful here, it really is. It's like nothing in the world could ever take away its beauty. No wonder I saw it in my dream. I must have known that Zilia would want to burn it. Dreams are interesting like that, but before I digress, I should get to the matter at hand.
I search the area carefully for the branch that broke off of the tree, but it's no where to be found. Quickly, as if the tree itself were to run away if I didn't, I climb it and look around. I find the spot that I stood when I held Zilia's hand, and look around to find that no branches around have been broken off. They all stand there as if it never happened, and they don't look like they're going to break any time soon either. “The hell?” I mutter to myself.
I climb back down and stumble back into the school, forsaking the beautiful feeling that being around that tree gives me. How could I ever let her burn it, but how could I ever deny her what she wants? Right now the question wouldn't be “what should I do,” but more “what can I do?” I am her faithful follower, am I not? Would Hector dare go against Zeus's will? I know Achilles would; the raging lion knows no master. Achilles does not know control, or respect. That is why he is so dangerous. Hector, however, knows his place, and keeps himself under check most of the time. Hector has the power of thoughts. But still, I am torn between which one I would rather be.
I pull out the note that was slipped into my pocket without me noticing by Zilia earlier and read it over again, repeating some of the words out loud. “Foolish... Trivial... Moron... Power... Zilia... Surpass... Echo... Forever...”
“Hey what's that you're reading?” A strangely familiar voice says from behind me, almost peering over my shoulder. In my shock, I quickly shove the paper in my pocket, and turn around with a big innocent smile on my face.
“Oh hey, Bridge.” I say, pretending like I didn't just over react instead of lying and saying “nothing.” Before me stands a Gothic looking girl, sporting a dark style that surely went out of style before it was even invented. I really have no idea how that style ever came in style. It really is just downright depressing. I thought people had enough problems in their lives.
“Hey, freak.” She says to me slightly aggressively. Ever since I stopped coming around as often, for my own reasons, her and her friends have become increasingly aggressive. “Have you been avoiding us, your friends again?” Oh god. Not this again.
“I thought I already explained that to you. I can't avoid you, because in order to avoid you, I'd have to have some idea as to where you will be. And I don't.” I reply with a burning rage boiling underneath my skin. The constant annoyance of that group of friends is always present. It has actually gotten to the point that I have stopped going out of my way to talk to them anymore. I've gone out and made new friends, better friends. I moved on. I don't know why they can't accept that.
“Quit lying to me, Styr. You're a freak and a creep. Last I heard you were stalking that girl.” I shoot her a concerned glance.
“What girl?” There's no way someone knows about me and Zilia. Not even Mitchell knows, and he knows everything about me.
“Some girl named Wendy. Oh wait... that's right. You went out into the woods with her and killed her!” Now she was going too far. This is the exact reason that I don't talk to them anymore. I tell them the truth as I see it and they warp it to their will. It drives me insane.
“I. Did. Not. Kill. Her!” I yell at Bridge, ready to tear her head off. Liars are the worst of people, stealing the truth from the world and replacing it with something that is a fabrication of their imagination. She shoots me a victorious smile and a thought goes through my head. “Did you just come over here to piss me off?”
Her god-forsaken smile remains there for a moment, and then breaks to allow her to speak. “No, I came here to try and convince my old friend to wake up and realize that he belongs with us, his friends.”
“I have friends, other friends.” I say coldly, no longer caring about her feelings. They need to hear the truth. I don't need them anymore. I had hung out with them when I felt that I belonged with them. I was wrong. It's rare that I manage to get a girlfriend, and every single time they managed to ruin my relationship by judging her. They interrogated me each time, asking things like “why are you going out with her?” and “eww, what's wrong with her face?” They do not see deep enough in any person, yet think that they do. Perhaps my greatest madness comes from their hypocrisy. I will never judge another man who gets the urge to tear someone apart for angering him consistently for years. I understand. They don't.
“Oh yeah?” She replies, clearly offended. “So tell me, where are your friends right now?” I shrug at her.
“I don't know where they all are.” I say, making it sound like there are too many to keep track of. “But I do know that Mitchell went to go meet up with some girl he knows.”
“Oh yes, Mitchell. I heard you were hanging out with him since you dropped us. Tell me, what's it like hanging out with that idiot?” The anger boils even greater beneath my skin. The great rage of Achilles begins to wash over me. She has no place to insult him. He has done her no harm, nor has he ever met her.
“You don't even know him, you bitch. He probably has a higher IQ than you do.” Fires engulf my mind, burning all trace of sense and respect in it. I'm losing control. I'm scared. Losing control is far too dangerous. I have to leave. I have to get away.
“What?” She screams at me, beginning to hit me in the chest and shoulder. The pain fades quicker than it comes, but each strike attempts to invoke my rage to battle. “What was that? Did you just say what I thought you said?” I don't know what in the world compels me to nod my head in response, but I nod. “Hey guys, come here! We're going to show little Styr what he gets for ditching us!”
I turn to get away, but two of her larger male friends block my path. I'm surrounded in seconds, with the rage attempting to break free. This isn't good! Someone is going to get badly hurt. It could be me... Or it could be one of them. “Let me through!” I hopelessly yell at them, warning them without them even knowing.
“Or else what?” The larger one of them says to me, smiling like the Grinch who stole Christmas. I go to speak but a fist strikes me in the stomach before I could warn him. There is something strange about me, something feral. Achilles begins to break through the front lines of my skin, forcing Hector to retreat back into the protective walls. Another fist comes to strike me in the stomach, but I somehow dodge it and return with three quick, but powerful, punches to the larger guy's stomach. “Son of a bitch...” He says as he bends over in pain.
I attempt to run past him, but the other one blocks my way. “You think I'm going to just let you get away with that, Styr? We've danced before, and I've never lost.” A punch is thrown at where my face used to be, but in seconds I had already moved around him, dashing for the sanctuary of the grand tree. Unmatched in speed, I reach the grand tree in no time at all. But they will not give up until it's over. Not only that, but chances are they grabbed some more buddies of theirs to get me hard. I look around, trying to find a place to hide. Why did I come here?
I dance up the tree because my life might depend on it. Up and up I go, until I can go no more. Hidden among the lively green leaves of the grand tree, I wait. They'll be here soon, I just know it. My heart races with the adrenaline, and the fear of letting the beast out again. It was self-defence, so it's alright. Right? I take a moment to catch my breath, feeling my chest rise and sink like it had the first time I came here. I'm at peace. Everything is going to be alright. I poke my head out of the leaves to look around the area. I can see the doors of the school fly open as several large boys come out with a group of all too familiar girls. They're here.
“Find him!” Bridge orders the others, yet again asserting her dominance when there should be none. “I want him to see the error of his ways!” A cruel laugh emits from her body, and I realize that the black that she wears is not an expression of her sadness, but merely a symbol of her evil. Chills go down my spine with this thought. Something bad is about to happen.
The school's doors are slowly pushed open, and Mitchell walks through. No! He has the worst timing in the world to go looking for me. “Uhh... You guys see Styr?” He asks them nicely, totally oblivious to the danger he is in.
An evil grin stretches across Bridge's face. I can feel it. “Well, well, well, what do we have here?” She turns around, facing the largest of her group. “You two! Guard the door!” Mitchell stands there like a deer in the headlights, confused and not sure whether or not he should move. Run you idiot, run! He stands still, unable to hear my warnings. God damn it! What the hell am I supposed to do now? I'm going to get us both killed if I act, or I'll deal some serious damage to them, and if I stay here, he'll suffer for something I did. I have to do something. I am no Agamemnon!
“Is that a no?” He replies to Bridge, realizing that he's in trouble. Right now he's probably praying for something, or someone, to save him. I don't think anyone besides me is going to save him right now, and even then I might not be able to save him. But I can't just sit back and watch! I look around the tree and try to find something I could use to fend them off with, like a branch or something that I could swing around at them. I spent a lot of time practising with swords over the course of my childhood, but I'm probably very rusty. Still though, it's probably better than trying to face them head on. Come on, there's got to be something up here! I take a peak out of the safety of the trees to find that Mitchell, my honest friend, is surrounded by the group of angry teenagers.
“Hey morons!” I yell out at the group without thinking. My body moves as it pleases and carries me down from the tree, seemingly dropping out of nowhere. They look at me with immense hatred, but I can sense a certain awe in the way that they look at me. “I'm right here. There's no need to bring him into this.”
“Styr?” Mitchell yells from inside of the consuming circle, still trapped by their large numbers.
“It's alright Mitchell. Go inside and forget all about this. It'll all be okay.” I tell him, hoping they'll let him go. Hector guides me, telling me to avoid conflict; my friend comes first. I do as Hector says, but it seems that Bridge has other ideas.
“Well then, it seems that Styr's a heroic one. Why don't we show him what we do to heroes, eh fellas?” The group moves towards me like an army marching into battle. I can survive this. I just hope Mitchell does. A great fear washes over me, the same fear that washes over Hector before his final fight with Achilles, a fight he inevitably loses. “Oh no, Mitchell. You're staying right here so that he can see you suffer.”
Suddenly I shift from Hector to Achilles and feel the burning rage that sends me to protect my friend with all of my might. I will show them not to cross me. My dried blood-red hair waves in the gust of wind that blows from the south. Above me, in the expanse of branches, rustling can be heard. A single branch falls from the tree and lands right beside me. I look at it, and realize it shares the shape of my ideal sword, a broad sword. I bend down and pick it up, then charge into battle.
“The hell?” I hear one of them scream as they notice that I am actually running at them at full speed. I begin to strike them down with the sturdy replacement for a sword. I am Achilles as he cuts through the Trojan army, raging at the death of Patroclus. In no time at all, I reach the large boy I had punched earlier. He catches the stick and holds onto it, despite the expression of pain that shoots across his face on impact. I loose my grip on it and he takes it from me.
“Ha. Ha. Ha. Looks like the poor hero has reached the end of his journey.” He lifts the sword in the air, and prepares to strike. “Any last words?”
“Not. Yet.” I say beginning to dance around him, taking the form of a flaming rage. I lose my mind and strike nonstop until he collapses to the floor like the ones before him. The flames erupt in my mind, and I can feel them stretch across my body. I bend down and pick up my sword.
I look up and see nobody left standing, but Mitchell and Bridge. “How... did... you...?” She barely gets out in her limitless fear. I stare at her hatefully.
“There is no getting in between me and my dearest friend. There is a lot you do not know about me, Bridge. And it is going to stay that way.” I twitch slightly and let out a howl. “I am a freak. Be afraid.”
She goes to run and Mitchell lets her go, after seeming like he considered stopping her. He turns and smiles at me. “Jesus! That was intense! Where'd you learn how to do that?” He congratulates me, patting me on the back. I shrug at him as the flames recede and the gentle protector comes back out from the walls to hold off Achilles once more.
“I don't actually know.” I laugh it off as if it was nothing, when secretly I'm really just afraid to find out what caused that. “Come on, let's get out of here before they wake up.” In a matter of days some people will start hearing about this, but luckily for me, no one would believe it. One scrawny kid taking on all of these guys? Hardly possible. And that's just how I like to keep it.
-Zero
