Authors: Thomas McDermott
“What if is was just water?” She could not allow such a notion to live within her mind. Where was the power? Where was the glory? Wasn’t she now supposed to be transformed into a goddess? She felt no different at all. She knew she had to quiet her doubts and fears no matter what. No matter how devastated or disappointed she may be she must not let anyone suspect that the very heart of their religion was untrue! She had to play the part of the new goddess ready to bring down vengeance upon their enemies. She decided to take the wet clay from around the perimeter of the pool and smear her face and hair with it. It would be far more dramatic if she looked the part. She reached for the torch with a wet hand and accidentally extinguished the flame. The only light now was from the hole in the cavern wall leading back to her world and back to her people. She trained her eyes on the light and crawled back away from the waters. There was no time to think. She would reason it all out later. Perhaps when she went to sleep this evening she would awaken a new goddess. Perhaps becoming a legend did not happen in an instant. She thought maybe she would have to sleep first and enchanted slumber to awaken a new and powerful creature. That must be it. She looked back towards the light which now hurt her eyes. She trained her gaze upon it and began to crawl away from the waters back to her world. The farther away from the pool she got the more frightened she felt. Suddenly a craving welled up in her belly and she knew she wanted more. She was more thirsty than she had ever been in her life and knew that there was only one thing that would satiate this ravenous craving. She turned back to the water and began drinking large mouthfuls of the stuff. It no longer seemed to burn and was wonderful to the taste. It was the earth and the moon and life itself. The magic was working in her now. She could feel it. There was no longer any need to put on a show for anyone. She was changing and she was changing rapidly. She had the sense that she had never drank anything before today. Finally all of her urgings and desires would be satiated. She poured the water over her head. She could not get enough. She could never get enough and the thought of leaving the cave was torturous. But she had to leave she knew this much. She was ready now to emerge victorious as she finally felt as if she may have gotten just enough water to last for at least a little while. She looked around for a bowl or some sort of pitcher in which to carry the water out with her. There was nothing but clay and water. She had to leave now before the urge became too great to stay beside the pool forever. She had to face the enemy now, an army that was already on its way back to Rome with the forbidden waters. It was up to her to retrieve them and destroy the ones who stole the god’s nectar. She clawed her way back to the hole where the lights and the sounds were coming from. The light now was brilliant like the sun and she found the pain in her eyes unbearable and all she wanted to do was cradle them in the cool darkness by the pool of Locium. She knew she had to leave the cavern even though every step away from the dripping of the pool was like torture for her. She knew that her people would seal up the entrance forever once she emerged from the mystery of mysteries. It did not matter to her now for she realized very quickly that she was no longer mortal. Nothing could hurt her now and nothing could stop her from getting more water if she wanted it. She would carve a tunnel herself with her bare hands for that is how powerful she felt now. This water gave her in an instant what a life time of searching had failed to provide and now this water was her very life. She and the pool were one and the same and she ran her fingers through her hair again to make herself look even more wild and primitive. She wanted to scare them all with her power. She wanted to show them all how right she had been, but most of all, she wanted to destroy the Romans one by one and rip apart their fragile bodies piece by piece. Her hatred fueled her new found power and she screamed as loudly as she could. Why didn’t she think of this before? They would talk about that scream for thousands of years and she would be alive to hear the stories. She could not stop smiling. A pang shot through her back and stomach. She needed more water now. Something was happening. Maybe the transformation was not complete and she needed to drink the water for days or even weeks. This thought was of great comfort to the new goddess but the emotion of anger was stronger. She had to meet her people and assure them that revenge was coming with the dawn. She was almost at the entrance where the light was truly too much to bear when she heard her father’s voice:
“Seal the entrance! Hurry! Before she has a chance to escape.” His voice was strong and full of conviction. He was no longer her father but a leader of the tribe trying to protect all that he knew. This Priestess Selinia had broken every sacred rule and law today bringing further vengeance and destruction on the Parisiji. The Romans weren’t enough. Now they had to appease the gods and he hoped that the sacrifice of his own daughter within the cavern of the sacred waters would do it. Their sole function as clergy was to protect the waters and protect anyone who would dream of drinking the liquid for immortal life and unlimited power. He knew that such a thing would only bring madness. Man could not handle immortality.
“We were born to die.” He whispered softly as his hand was pressed against the stone wall in a final farewell to Selinia. He could not hear her screams or feel her pound her bleeding fists against the seal but he could feel her anger. It was pouring out of the cavern like a cloud of death. He motioned for everyone to get out. Something was truly happening now as he felt the cavern floor begin to tremble. “Get out!” He pushed the young people forward. “Get out now!! Hurry! Rocks and dust began to fall from the ceiling. A large stone hit him on the shoulder and he cried out in pain. He stumbled for a moment and he heard Selinia’s voice as clear as anything above all the chaos and the screaming. It was in his head. He could feel her presence behind him like a wave of malice.
“Father! How dare you betray your own daughter?” Her voice was smug. It was possible that she was now a powerful demi-god and he would be hopeless against any such force. He stayed on his knees in a state of surrender. It made sense that the gods would want him as well for a sacrifice. The father of the monster had to be forfeited too. He only hoped that it was enough.
“Selinia! We are doomed together but our people will prevail! I did it for the clan! I know you understand that.” He shouted into the cave now gone black. He was alone with her separated by a stone seal that he prayed would hold against her. The stone was sacred and said to be thrown down from the heavens to guide the way to the pool of Locium to provide eternal refreshments for the gods. That was long before there were people. Long before when the trees still sang and the rocks still danced. He hoped that the stone had enough power to hold whatever it was his daughter was becoming.
“I understand one thing father. You will die and I will not.” A burning heat raced through his head and suddenly he could see nothing at all and his hearing collapsed into one loud buzzing din that was louder than anything he had ever heard. The pain was excruciating and he reached up to his eyes to feel wet liquid pouring forth. His life was over and he was prepared. He died trying to save his people not from the invading army but from his only child, the High Priestess of Locium. He was no longer conscious when the ceiling collapsed upon his frail body. He was finally free.
Inside the cavern Selinia felt her father die. It gave her great pleasure. It was delicious and satisfying to the person she was rapidly becoming. She sighed and turned her back on the seal. It was amazing. She could see everything so clearly in the dark! Each little crevice and nook and protrusion from the rock walls around her suddenly became apparent and she realized that she missed it all the first time. She could see them now. All the souls. They were natural formations without a doubt but as she looked all around the room she could see their faces. Thousands of them all staring at the pool in longing. It was so obvious! This was a temple. This was her temple and she knew now that she was in no hurry to leave. She looked at the pool and now the water seemed to be glowing with a creamy white blue light and each drop that formed on the nipple of the stalactite was vibrating with power. She watched the droplets fall. It was making her thirsty again and she walked gracefully to the pool this time; no crawling around in the dark like before. She drank and drank and drank and began slowly to forget. She even forgot her traitorous father and all of his intrigues against her. She forgot about the Roman army and the thieves who stole away with the precious liquid. Soon, she could no longer remember even her name. All she knew was that she loved the water and that the water was here. She had finally come home after a lifetime of yearning. The darkness embraced her and for that she was glad and she knew she would be safe here, away from the light , away from the noise and safe in the home of the gods. Nothing could harm her and she was a child in the womb again. She would bide her time and rest for suddenly she was very sleepy. Nothing could keep her awake. Forgetfulness covered her like a blanket and she allowed herself to forget. There would be time later to remember everything. She would remember everything when the time was right. How the thieves came on horseback and stole the water, how her own father had buried her alive and how she herself had drank from the waters of Locium and became a Goddess.
SASHA
Sasha tried to focus on the book she was reading. She sat up a little more in bed and adjusted the reading lamp yet again. The story just could not hold her interest. It was some love story that was based in the past around the time of the French Revolution. It was her favorite time period in history and she spent more than a fair amount of time on the life of Marie Antoinette and her contemporaries. This story just sounded like the author did not do enough research and Sasha hated when she was unable to suspend her disbelief and lose herself in a good book. Maybe she had done too much research and was now a snob on the subject and could easily recognize a flaw that the average reader would not. Maybe she was just too tired to really put her mind to it so she finally threw the paperback to the floor and glanced around her room. She still could not believe that she had her own apartment in Paris. The surreal feeling did not go away even after four months. Every time she woke up in the City of Lights she felt as if she were in a movie or a novel. There was no way that this was her life! She did not know if she would ever take it for granted that she was finally in the city of her dreams. Of course, many little girls dream of Paris, but Sasha had been obsessed from a very early age. It was all she ever thought about and every movie that took place in Paris was mandatory for Sasha to see. Her mother had long become accustomed to her daughter’s obsession and after a time began to encourage it. Why shouldn’t her daughter reach for the lofty dreams that had always been a part of her psyche? Sasha’s mother had always done the right thing; the sensible thing and she had never had any regrets or unfulfilled desires in life. Grace was a very simple woman in the truest sense of the word. Her life could be summed up in one word that meant more to her than anything else. This word was family. Grace grew up in a large and loud Irish American family and from the beginning was ‘ Mama’s Little Helper. She loved caring for her brothers and washing the dishes and scrubbing the floors and the walls. It was only in the caring of others that Grace ever felt any sense of pleasure or satisfaction. The idea of an idle hour alone shopping somewhere filled her with terror. She was much happier making dinner and being sure that her husband and daughter had all of their daily needs met than any other activity could do for her. She knew that her friends would find her shocking in her old fashioned sensibilities, but she never spoke of such things. She was so uncomplicated that she never even really discussed her life. She just lived it. Everything had been arranged for her from the time she was little and she never had enough guts or ambition to stray from the path that lay so neatly before her. Slowly, as her only child began to grow she began to imagine a life she had never led. She started daydreaming that her daughter would live the amazing life that she never wanted. It was far too late for Grace ever to change but Sasha had a chance. Sasha could escape the dreary Midwestern way of life and wring something more from her time here on earth. It wasn’t as if she had to push her at all. Sasha made it very clear from the time she was six that she was going to move to Paris one day and study art. Her mother began to live vicariously through her daughter and every triumph of her little girl became a triumph of her own and every disappointment pierced through her heart as if it were happening to her. This was the way of all mothers. What happened to their children, happened to them. If Sasha could get away then Grace would finally have soared to the heights she never even imagined existed.
Now that all of Sasha’s dreams had come to fruition the only tragedy was that Grace was not alive to see those dreams awaken. It was the one bitter taste in Sasha’s mouth that kept Paris from being perfect. While walking through the neighborhoods of the Left Bank or strolling languidly under the Eiffel Tower, Sasha painfully knew she could never share any of this with her mother. Grace had slipped away quietly one night when no one was paying attention. She took a fatal combination of sleeping pills and White Russians. It was all so senseless and ridiculous. No one ever knew if she had wanted to end her life or was just trying to numb her emotions. No one really knew anything about Grace at all, not even her husband or her daughter who saw her every day. She lived very quietly and revealed very little of herself and she had died just as quietly while everyone was at home. No one had even noticed that she was gone until the little household routines began to go undone. First it was the lack of the smell of coffee that alerted the father and daughter that something was wrong. Grace’s life was an exercise in routine. The lack of routine created an enormous vacuum in the house which let Sasha and her father know that something was terribly wrong. The emptiness is what alerted them that something was amiss. The quietness itself told them that Grace was missing. Grace who was always humming during her daily tasks and was always busy with one project or another had simply vanished. One moment she was there and the next she was gone. Grace did not live to see the day that her daughter boarded a plane to leave the guilty vacuum behind, dressed in a red travel suit worthy of any Parisian native. Grace was not there to see the victory and the victory had been filled with sadness because Grace couldn’t help Sasha pack her bags and make her eggs with lemon cream sauce just the way she liked them. She could not fuss and bother with her daughter’s hair and clothing and offer solid motherly advice laced with superstitions that had been passed on to her from her own Mum. She could not hug her baby with tear filled eyes and make her promise to call the very moment she landed, no matter what time and to write at the very least once a week, and a real letter not this email nonsense. Grace had slipped away in the middle of the night leaving a monster of silence behind her, for she never got to beam with pride at how far her little girl had gone in this world.