- The Storried Platform
THE SKY TURNED CRIMSON – By Eric Arthur
The sun peeks out from the corner of the world as I look up to the calm and bright cerulean sky. The clouds float in the deep mixture of cobalt and sapphire like the eyes of an Iranian model, travelling through endless brume. It echoed an ambience of tranquil and solitude, resonating in the peacefulness of mild fire. Loneliness filled my heart with each second, pothering my thoughts with sadness as I looked on at the seamless length, wider than the arms of time, radiating like a field of cornflower.
I turn back as she taps my shoulder; my wife. She wears a smile that belittles the value of the Mona Lisa. Her eyes are like the skies, gentle as cooking flame and bright like a chariot of fairies. They sparkle in brilliance like deep oceans and seas, rounded by azure rings and the scent of royalty.
She stretched her arms and placed my child in my waiting hands. I showed him the skies, and he gazed with intent. I saw life in his eyes; I saw the future in his smile. But I also saw a need in his face. A need for a mother’s care and nurture for that light inside of him. He could do without me, but he needed a mother.
And right then, my mind was made up.
“Ada, take him inside,” I said to her, handing him over to her warm embrace.
“Where are you going?” She asked.
But I said nothing. I only placed a kiss on her forehead as I walked away from the compound that had once started my happiness.
“I did it… I killed the forbidden snake,” I heard myself say immediately I reached the King’s palace.
All eyes fell on my slim frame, perusing through my countenance as if I was mad.
“I killed the forbidden snake,” I said again, louder this time, interrupting the chief priest’s consultation of the gods.
He looked at me with red eyes; anger lurked around the edges, boiling vehemently.
“You did what?” He screamed in torrid disgust. “I killed the snake. You don’t have to disturb the gods for answers.
You said someone from my household killed the snake, and here I am. I have come forward,” I gulped, feeling my chest suddenly become discomforting and hot.
“Sacrilege! Sacrilege! You will be beheaded for it!” he screamed again, walking decisively towards me.
But no matter how my legs shook or how my heart pounded, I was going to maintain my story. It was the only way. No one would listen if I tried to plead on my wife’s behalf, telling them the truth; that she had killed the snake by accident.
I cast a defiant and dauntless stare at him as he sauntered toward me. I was plying a precarious road… one which would end with my head separated from my neck, and left on the grounds of the village square as an example for anyone who even conceived a thought of killing another forbidden snake. But I had to be brave; for my son.
I looked up one last time as the machete was raised. The sky was calm and dark… but the clouds were pregnant and crimson. The rains started to fall and the water was red as blood.
“Hold it!” The Chief Priest screamed!
By Eric Arthur
The sun peeks out from the corner of the world as I look up to the calm and bright cerulean sky. The clouds float in the deep mixture of cobalt and sapphire like the eyes of an Iranian model, travelling through endless brume. It echoed an ambience of tranquil and solitude, resonating