Congratulations! YOU FOUND THE HIDDEN PAGE.
A bad short story!
Sucks for you.
and this is where my I show you how totally ignorant I am when it comes to Greek myth
Our English teacher is so cute.
*discussion about Troy*
Ms. Dela Cruz: Neoptolemus is the son of Achilles. ... Just think about that, living under his shadow. How do you think Neoptolemus felt when Achilles died--wait. *lightbulb* Let's make this your SWE! Class: Ughhh. Me: Is this even allowed? Aren't the graded shitworks planned beforehand? SHE CAN'T JUST ADD WORKLOAD LIKE THAT.
Ms. Dela Cruz: *writes on board* Due tomorrow!
Seatmate: Apparently, she can.
A flash of an arrow. A cry of pain, of defeat.
I watched as the arrow buried its head into my father’s heel; as he fell down, now nothing more than a bloodied corpse. Who knew that such a great warrior could so easily be defeated? By a stray arrow nonetheless!
His body lay there resting, while the rest of the world kept fighting. Fighting for glory, for honor.
Maybe even for love.
All around me, men were dying, blood glistening on their throats. But none of that mattered. The sight of blood and death filled me with a bestial longing, a primeval desire, an ache I despaired to appease.
I rushed out onto the battlefield, powered by lust; a hunger that can only be filled by a man’s heart on my spear, his blood in my hands. A lust that can only be sated by the feel of my blade cutting through a man’s skin, his bones. His life.
It’s funny how all these men who lay dead at my feet once feared my father with so much intensity; feared him to the point of reverence, and sometimes even adoration.
I will show them what fear really is.
He is dead, I thought. The man who stripped me of my name, my identity—is gone. Now I shall create a name for myself. People shall know me from the men I’ve slain; not my father, not his battles. From now on, I am no longer the son of Achilles.
From now on, I am Neoptolemus.
And now you now how little I know about Greek myth and how much I suck at writing. YAY.
But at least I tried, right?
Lesson for the day: Do not write shit at midnight. Because all you write will be shit.