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Rated: ASR · Fiction · Action/Adventure · #737013
This is a short story about an unheeded prophetess
She stood at the gates to the town, her hands balled into small white fists as she struggled to for the courage to step inside. She looked up at the desolate, dusty town. It reminded her of many cities she had seen, and many that she had yet to reach. She threw the cloak off her shoulders and stepped inside the gates. A musky stench assaulted her nose as soon as she entered. She came with a purpose, and she intended to carry that purpose through, no matter how she was received.
Her name was Cassandra, and she was a prophetess. At least that's what her friends jokingly called her. They didn't know what she did. They didn't see the things she saw, or endure her horrid dreams. She brought words of warning to these small towns. She gritted her teeth and walked to the local tavern. It wasn't hard to find, all of these towns had the same feel, and the tavern was always the center of the town. All the towns she had been in had the same feel, so the tavern was easy to find.
On the way there, several people gave her surprised glances. It was not often they saw a strange woman walk into town alone. In times like these, only a brave woman would venture forth alone. Thieves and murderers abounded, and many desired to unburden Cassandra of her purse. Those that tried soon regretted it. Quickly, she made it to the tavern and stepped foot inside. The light inside was dimmed, and most of the windows were covered. Must make it easier on the drunks she mused. All the heads in the bar swiveled to look at her. She threw back her cloak over her shoulder, revealing her to be in a dark brown dress that accentuated her natural figure. The men weren't used to a woman openly entering this building. One so attractive entering the bar simply amazed them. They stared openly at Cassandra. She returned the lecherous stares with a cold, even glare. Cassandra walked up to the bar and looked the bartender square in the face.
"Give me an ale." She said in a cold voice.
"Sure thing, little lady." He said, and promptly returned with a glass.
Cassandra sipped slowly at her drink. She hated ale, but knew she had to be drinking something if she were going to be in there for very long. She knew she had to remain in the bar for quite a while. She needed to be here long enough to gain the respect of the men, so that they would listen when she spoke. If she spoke now, they would listen to her but would not hear a word she said. She had their attention, now she needed their respect. And she knew of only one way to get respect from a group of men like these. Blood. So she sat and drank, waiting. All the while she calmly eyed the crowd, looking for the one she expected. He might lose his life today. Though, if he did not lose it today from her, he would lose it another day from a raiding army. That was what she was trying to prevent. She soon spotted him, sitting in a dark corner playing dice while sipping on some ale. When he noticed her gaze, he smirked at her, and made a show of looking her up and down. She glared back at him, showing no fear in her eyes. For she had none. There was nothing left to fear. She was resigned to her life, and accepted it as it was. He stood up, and started walking towards her.
"What do we have here? A pretty lady, just for us." He said, laughing and gesturing to the men around her.
"I'm not for anyone save myself, thank you." She said, and sat her glass down. She callously looked away from him.
"I think I'll be deciding that. What business have you got in here anyway? There's not much reason for a woman to be coming in here. You're likely to end up like the last one." He sneered.
"Oh, really? And what happened to her?" The Prophetess asked.
"She didn't want to play nice, so she wound up the in gutter out back." He snickered.
Cassandra could see straight through his lie. Just one more push, and it would be time. She mentally prepared for the task ahead, relaxing all her muscles and letting her emotions drip away. Leaving only the calm center, the nexus of reason.
She looked him square in the eyes, "Now, we wouldn't want you to try that, I'd hate for the bartender to clean up your blood." She smirked at him, and picking up her glass, took a swig of ale. She set the glass down and looked him in the eyes. She could smell his hot breath.
"You little wench; I'll show you some blood!" He bellowed, and reached up to seize her with his left hand, reaching for his knife with the other. Cassandra waited until his knife was free, then slapped his grasping hand away from her, and grabbed his knife hand. She spun, and pulled the knife hand forward. She forced his elbow to lock, and then slammed her other hand into it. His elbow shattered with a loud pop. She had moved so quickly he hadn't had time to react. But she wasn't done. She didn't just need respect, she needed fear, and she needed to be remembered. She released his hand, and the knife clattered to the floor. She spun back again, and put all her body weight into a palm heel strike to his face. She shattered his nose. Blood sprayed everywhere. Somehow, he had managed not to fall down yet. She reversed her weight, and threw a hard punch to his stomach. He grunted with the impact. Without slowing at all, she brought her open hand up under his chin with all of the force she could muster. She felt his jaw shatter, and he flew back several feet from her.
He fell flat on her back. The Prophetess went to check his pulse, and finding him alive, eyed the men who were staring at her. Hands on their knives, eyes filled with fear. Now was the time, so she spoke.
"My name is Cassandra, and I am a Prophetess. I came here today with a purpose. This poor soul on the ground beside me also served a purpose. I have a message for you, and I pray that you will listen with ears to hear, and look with eyes to see at the message I give you today. I give you warning, that war is brewing in the East. Your lords, your messengers, everyone will tell you there is nothing but peace. I tell you there will be nothing but war in two years time. I have seen the future, and I know what is coming. I will spare you the details, so that you may sleep at night. I have warned other villages, some have heeded my warning. Some have not. If you do not use the time that you have left to flee this place to a city where you can be protected, or gather the surrounding towns together and build a city that can be defended, each of you still here in two years time will be dead. Everyone. This will be war unlike anything you have ever seen. You can only hope to survive it, not win it. For even the victors will be losers in the end. Millions of soldiers will die. Yes, there will be millions of soldiers. The largest armies ever to walk the face of this planet will be assembled. And if you do not prepare, you will die. This, I have seen, and this I know is true. Whether or not you choose to believe me, is your choice. But I have elsewhere to be, and cannot stay here long. Other towns need to be warned, so that they too can have time to prepare. I hope that you will heed my warning, and remember my words. Good day to you all, and may the Fates bless you." She said, and walked out the door.
Cassandra sighed as she walked out of town. She had seen it before, and she would see it again. The blank stares, the looks of disbelief. Those men in there hadn't believed her, even though they did fear her. A few might take her word, and flee with their families. She was thankful for the chance that she had saved a few, even if the town will still be burned to the ground. She had another town to visit tomorrow, and a hundred more to visit before she could rest. She had to leave her family and friends for this, day after day. To be ignored, and gawked at. She made sure the knife she carried with her was clear in its pouch. After all, it wasn't safe for a woman to be out alone. This was her life; she was Cassandra, the ignored Prophetess.
© Copyright 2003 Chippy Chi (scott3386 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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