A strange crackling sound makes my eyes fly open. A dancing orange light is cast on the ceiling and the room feels a thousand degrees hotter. Heart racing, I clamber to the stairs only to face blazing flames leaping up the walls and flashing up the steps. I frantically back away, bumping into the window. The fire roars past me and consumes the entrance to my room.
Daring to turn my back on the inferno, I peer out the window and witness my city writhing in chaos. Flames swallow up the houses in the distance and smoke blocks the moon's light. Tortured screams now replace the ringing bells of celebration that once clangored through the city. The ground seems to stretch farther and farther away and I know with sickening awareness that the soldiers are right; I will die if I jump.
Yet looking back at the glow of the fire crackling closer sparks courage within me. I place firm hands on the window and climb up to stand on it. Flames lick at my back, but before they can envelop me I leap into the smoky night sky.
Pain explodes all over my body when I hit the ground. My hazy mind knows that Greek soldiers will have seen my jump and are searching for me now -- I need to move. Crawling out of the narrow street, I look up to see more Greeks pouring out of the wooden horse, massacring my people. Before my very eyes, a child sees her parents impaled with gleaming spears, the blood spraying on her face. Her own end comes soon after, a mere lifeless husk left in her place. The despair threatens to swallow me whole.
The cacophony of misery before me fades when some of the soldiers catch sight of me. I scramble to my feet and look quickly for escape. Athena's temple stands tall and formidable, untouched by the fire. I race inside, my bare feet slapping the only cool ground left in Troy. Smoke hangs in the air by the entrance and I see a wooden image of the goddess Athena before me. Wooden like that vile horse, I think bitterly. Yet I cling to the statue, wishing for mercy but knowing it will never come.
I hear violent soldiers outside, nearing the temple. It is almost familiar to be trapped like this. I only allow one tear to fall, for Troy -- for my home. It runs down my face and drops to the floor without a sound. When the Greeks barge in, I let them drag me away. The life of a prisoner is all I have ever known.
FINIS
YOU ARE READING
The Last Prophetess
Historia CortaA retelling of the tragedy of Cassandra of Troy, an insane prophetess in the Trojan War. I wrote this for a school project long ago, a narrative of a character in the Trojan war. It's quite short but explains the mythology well, if you're into that...
