LIGHTNING AND THUNDER

PROLOUGE:

                Zeus sat in his throne; his mouth was formed into an irritable scowl. His hands were holding a small infant. The child was only moments old. But his fate was already decided. The god held his son close, and tried to hide his anger.

                Three elderly figures were standing before him. They all wore large black shrouds, but the god knew that under those shrouds were just bones, only bones. But the spirits that possessed them controlled the frail bodies like puppets. The Fates.

                “He has only walked this earth for mere moments; you cannot know what he is to do and when he is to die!” Zeus bellowed at The Fates.

                They cackled. The voices were not the skeletons to own. The one to the right stepped forward, held up a bony hand and long claw-like fingers slipped out from under her shroud. She held a scroll. The scroll for the infant in Zeus’s arms. They all moved forward, surrounding the god. The Fates cackled at the child, they unrolled the scroll and read in gravelly voices that even scared The Lord of all Lords.

                “Twelve Labors the child must complete

                 Or else die by the golden creek.

                Aided by the girl of mind

                Or thus he will have no more time.

                Complete the tasks by his eighteenth year

                Or by our hand, we will always sear,”

                The Fates held up a long golden tube, golden dust swirled about the glass. The bony claw plucked a single strand of hair out of the infants head, causing him to stir. They placed the hair in the jar and cackled.

                The fates disappeared in a large frightful hole that broke through the temple. After the figures fell, the hole repaired. The god was left alone with his newly-born child.

                The cackle still rang about the room, the child squirmed and with a final cackle from the fates, the child awoke and burst into loud, treacherous sobs. Zeus nuzzled the child and he hiccupped with a final wail.

                “There is nothing to cry about my son. You will live very comfortably. I am your father: Lord Zeus, god of lightning and gods.”

                The child giggled and garbled something unintelligible.

                “Yes, I am the god of gods. Trust me.” Zeus held out a finger and the infant wrapped a tiny little hand around the gods mighty index finger. Zeus smiled at the infant. Then he sighed. He leaned back in his throne.

                The Fates had predicted his newborn son’s fate. And only after he was just taken from his mortal mother. Zeus shook his head and wanted to sob like his child. He held his heir to his chest and rocked his back and forth until the child was soon lulled into sleep. The god stared at the small frail baby.

                “Hercules, my son. You are fated for many things. Things that no child should ever even dream of doing. Your path is filled with danger and darkness my child.”

                He whispered

                “And may The Fates be forgiving.”