first+person+POV+story

The coliseum is all on edge waiting for the show. Finally the door to my cage is lifted, and I'm released to wreak havoc. My calloused feet almost at home on the rough sand that now covers them. As I step forward my foes--apparent in their fear-- lack even the courage to step forward, and brave the slaughter like men, and they number in the dozens. I'm only one man, granted one man known for his blood lust, and ability to kill in cold blood, but a man no less. I unsheathe my broadsword its heft familiar as the feel of a champion's harem. Thus far with no motivation I've no desire to kill, but I know it's only a matter of time before one of the spineless cowards in front of me steps forward.

My name has been lost to the fame I've gained in this very ring. Once just a man of the land before I was thrown in this place for the first time, and armed to the teeth. My foe then was equal parts man, and ogre and was as mean as the angry soul of Ares. Slow as he was he fell with ease, and I was deemed champion. Now I live in wealth, fame, and harem with my only task being to kill all those who oppose me. Now I rule with the speed of Hermes, the wisdom of Athena, and the strength of Ares. I'm an immigrant in this Roman land coming straight from Greece forced to flee due to...shall we say...military mistakes. The last of my Achaean endeavors was at the gates of Troy where I'd slain the two heirs to the Trojan throne. I was banished when I refused to release the body of the younger prince to his father.

Enough reminiscing now, I drop all my weapons and release my armor to the ground to encourage their approach. As one of them gains either the heart, or desire for a quick end and steps toward me his feet falling clumsily in the shifty ground. I rise to greet him with an extended hand that brings promise of fair combat, but instead of completing that promise he swings the long trident in my direction the three blades clearly spelling my death. I dance quickly out of the way, and utter a silent prayer of thanks to Hermes for lending me his speed. The swing swipes empty air knocking the peasant off balance, and rendering him defenseless. I take the opportunity to swing up my right arm, and bring it into his breastplate denting it deeply as well as crushing a few ribs no doubt. The twiggy little man collapses clearly unadjusted to that level of suffering, and his allies for the time decide to take my short lived distraction to lead an organized strike of their own against me. I pick up my broadsword and recite for the hundredth time "Ares! I call on thee! Help me vanquish these men!" With my battle mantra yelled to the sky I feel the usual rush of adrenaline through my veins, but unlike any other time I lose all control almost as though Ares has taken me as a host. Before my eyes but with no influence by me the horde of five and thirty men are falling around me as I bob and weave between deadly blades. As quick as the flurry of rage, and power overcame me it left leaving only me standing in the coliseum surrounded by the chorus of death groans by the dying crowd of combatants. One man remains alive enough to stand, and he is marked by a massive dent in his breastplate. As he rises his head is removed by a clean sweep of my blade, and the last sound of the man's life is lost to the wind.

"Thank you great lords of Olympia. I fight for thee! Mighty Zeus I again request to be privy to your wants, and needs. Tell me how to satisfy you almighty god among gods!" I say to myself as I exit the ring before even being declared winner.

Back at my bedchamber I'm greeted by the usual harem of women in love with the champion of the coliseum. Now I have no desire, all the bloodshed, and victory hollow without meaning. My only wish be to satisfy the gods resting atop Mount Olympus, but they will not speak to me. Only Ares will be with me, and then only in combat. Even now I feel as though they try to push me into the arms of Hades so he can drag my soul to his twisted abode in the Underworld. Maybe all the needless violence has condemned me, but then why would mighty Ares come to me in combat. Nothing of my life makes sense anymore from the Romans with the Christian faith being that only one god rules all, the lack of guidance from Athena, Zeus, and Apollo not to mention the constant allure of Hades. As I rest my head for a good night's sleep I finally hear the voice

"Achilles, why do you call on us?" it sounds as though from my own mind.

"Great Olympians?" I question to the voice.

"I'm the almighty Zeus. Now answer my plea!" the voice answers making my ears ring.

"Mighty god of gods I fight for thine honor in a distant land I wish only to please you. I call on you for guidance." I reply sitting upright.

"You have shamed all men of Achaean descent with your treachery at the gates of Troy. All men have the right to proper funeral for their son." The voice is beginning to sound more like a crack of thunder than the voice of Zeus.

"I realize my mistake, and have tried repentance. You, and your children will not tell me how to please you for this action." I fight the tears in my throat from his reprimand.

"My noble son Ares gives you his strength, yet you dare request anymore from us?" The voice booms

"Ruler of Mount Olympus I ask not for your strength. I ask for your forgiveness, and beg for your mercy." I drop from my bed to my floor, and onto my knees.

"It is not I you should beg for your forgiveness, but my sister Hestia she will decide your worth."

"Yes noble Zeus I shall return to Athens in disguise, and pray at her hearth."

"Go then, and beg for your life. If you are found unworthy then your identity will become public, and your life cut short in that very city."

"Yes heavenly father of gods and men."

"Rest now, leave early" with that my head fell silent, and I fell instantly asleep.