For The Greater Good

Dionysus:6

By now His clothes were now ripped and tattered; his skin was grazed and bloody. He took in an awkward breath, trying to stop his chest from rising in the fear he might get stuck. The two walls of the alley way, if you could call it an alleyway, were hard against him, so much so he had compared himself to a sandwich. One wall was completely covered in steel, making it easy to slide along, the other were jagged bricks bluestone, whose rough edges tore his suit and skin alike.

A moment before he had caught a glance of Tatoe, whom, Dionysus had thought, carried an expression of guilt. Don’t be stupid he had told himself dogs don’t have expressions; but then again he isn’t just a dog. He let his thought wonder; all the while Tatoe took off again.

As he skirted through the so called “alley”, new cuts opened on his arms and legs, but they didn’t hurt half as much as they should have; he couldn’t decide whether it was adrenaline or his intoxication hadn’t worn off, even though he had been “asleep” for at least 14 hours, maybe I should drink something a little weaker than Listerine.

Yesterday, he would have never thought these events would occur; the only thing that had circled his mind was his thirst for alcohol, and his hunger for intoxication. When he felt as if he could take no more, he had placed his glass on the crooked hall table that ironically sat in the lounge, knowing eventually it would slip off and shatter. He struggled to make his way down the long hallways of the penthouse, and strolled up the stairs, every now and then losing grip of the hand rail and falling down a few steps. When he finally made it to the third level, he had tried to make his way to his bedroom and instead passing out in the study (as per usual). When the glass had shattered, he regained consciousness, but his laziness had gotten the better of him; he dared not open his eyes. It wasn’t until he had been attacked that that he had fully been pulled out of his drunken reverie.

Now, he felt as if his world had been turned upside down, though little did he know the worst was still to come.

When he reached the end of the man-made crevice, he pushed himself out with as much force as possible, stumbling on a pile of twigs and leafs that had been so conveniently placed at the mouth of the gap. He sat in the pile of waste, taking deep breaths and silently thanking the gods he had nearly given up on. The light stung his eyes, making him oblivious to the world around him; how long was I in that alley? He placed his fingers or his eyelids, and held them open, forcing them to adjust to the light.

Components of his surroundings slowly appeared; as if they were actors walking onto a stage one by and introducing themselves before the show began. Eventually the picture completed itself, showing Dionysus that he was in the courtyard of what seemed to be a warehouse.

The floor was paved with burgundy bricks, and moss had taken the place of what should have been grout. The courtyard was rather large, fitting numerous amounts of steel picnic tables; this must have been where the workers took their breaks. Tall orange-bricked walls circled the area, ending at two wooden doors, one left ajar. The wall cast a shadow on the yard; the sight reminded Dionysus of a prison.

He spun his head around to scan for any other exits, in the hope he would not have to enter the gloomy factory. If there were any, they did not reveal themselves. He bit his lip, and exhaled softly, excepting what he was about to do.

He sprawled his hands out in front of him, placing them sturdily on the damp pavement, and picked himself up. Once on his feet, he stared down at his tattered outfit and frowned. He did his best to brush himself off, but it was no use. He sucked in breath of crisp air and made his way towards the doors.