Vision

The Vision

“Desmon… Desmon, wake up.” The voice was faint, suppressed by thickness of the surrounding haze.

“Please, wake up…” Clearer and more discernible it sounded. He could almost make out the words. But he had no intention to leave the mist that clouded him. He wished to stay in this state of oblivion forever, for the pain of consciousness was too much to endure.

“Des, come on now, pal.” This time the voice was even louder and clearer than before. Somebody was calling his name. But why? Who could be so ruthless, so persistent in the attempt to bring him back to the cruel reality. Desmon did not want to wake up - he could not bear dealing with what had just happened, what he had seen… His life could not go on as if nothing had happened. Everything changed in an instance. Ominous thoughts were begging to take shape in his still-dazed mind. He tried to fight back, to forget and ignore the vision, to stay in the dream forever.

Then, as if having guessed his wishes, the unknown person turned to action. Realizing the uselessness of words, the perpetrator grew more desperate and began repeatedly slapping Desmon on the face.  Physical actions did the trick - Desmon opened his eyes. He found himself sprawled on the ground in the shade of a tree that towered right above him. His mind was working again, although his thoughts were still vague and hazy.He fell from the tree: that’s how he lost his consciousness. It was the gods’ will for this accident to take place, to show him the truth - the impossible and merciless truth. Desmon kept lying motionless, staring straight at the sky, where he knew the almighty masters of the universe were looking down at him at this very moment, musing at his suffering, his wanting to forget and ignore.

“What is it, Des? Talk to me,” he finally recognized the voice as that belonging to his best friend Saul. But what could he do now, how could he help? He would not be able to understand. He lay still, clinging to the dissipating mist, contemplating the savage nature of the world. His eyes betrayed no feeling or emotion, gazing blankly at the celestial sphere above. For a few minutes he was left in peace, his friend studying him in resigned silence.

Then all hell broke loose. Saul grabbed his shoulders and started shaking them uncontrollably, crying in hysteria: ”Why, oh why, you poor fool. I told you not to climb that tree; I told you it was cursed. Now look at you...gods have mercy on your soul!” He went on crying and shaking Desmon’s body, until the latter, could take it no longer. He looked at Saul and told him to let go, but his friend was beyond reason, crying and trembling in frenzy. Desmon pushed him away, perhaps with a little more force than was needed. Although he was the same young age as Saul (somewhere near 14, like most slaves he didn’t know his exact age), his physical power was equal if not superior to that of a grown man. Saul went flying into dirt, flipping several times and raising a cloud of dust before finally stopping. He jumped back on his feet instantly, not showing any signs of insult or injury. On the contrary, his eyes were shining with happiness. Elation did not linger long, only a few short seconds before it was replaced by concern. Desmon was completely ignoring him. He was very tall for his age, at towering at his full height of almost six feet, his figure radiated menacing power. His face had an unmistakable expression of profound hatred, and his cold eyes were now looking around, seeking something, or somebody.

“What are you looking for, Des?” – Saul whispered, truly frightened of his friend for the first time in his life, for he had never seen him angry before. Desmon didn’t answer, but his gaze locked onto something on the edge of the fields, his face contorted with anger, and grabbing a harvesting hoe and clenching his fists with crushing power, he walked off without uttering a single word. Horrified, his friend looked in the direction of his path, and felt his heart stop beating. There was no doubt about it, his worst fears were materializing before him: out at the edge of the field Caius, their master was standing. Luckily, he had his back turned to them all this time, otherwise the bastard would already be here, yelling and whipping them. But it did not matter anyway – Desmon, slowly but hopelessly was approaching his victim. He knew he should run and stop him, but Saul did not have the bravest heart, and at the moment was paralyzed with fear, watching the tragedy unfold before his eyes. Desmon has gone mad after all, and he was about to commit a suicide. Saul was so utterly shocked, that he couldn’t even pray to his gods.

Desmon was making his way through the golden hay fields that swayed and glimmered in the sun. He was no longer aware of his surroundings. All he saw was a man, a man who is going to pay for what he did to him and his family. Gruesome images were flashing through the boy’s mind: his village burning, his father, pale, bleeding profusely, helpless and desperate, with his tied hands forced to watch what that animal did to his wife. Desmon was there, a baby, pulled from his mother’s pleading arms, and spared to be raised as a slave. All these years he tolerated the humiliation, the beatings, the subjugation, only because Caius told him that he found him on the street, abandoned by his whore of a mother, that he should be eternally grateful to his merciful master.

Desmon’s heart was beating faster and faster as he approached the unsuspecting victim, he could already smell the vile blood that would soon be drawn by his own hand. It was at that moment that he felt a tender, and yet strong grasp on his arm.  He knew that soft touch, loved and admired it, often dreamt about it at nights. It was Corrie, a slave girl with whom he was in love, although he never confided in her. Words were not needed, and their feeling was clearly mutual, known among all the slaves, making them always very careful not to look at each other when the master was around. Desmon promised himself that one day he would run away with Corrie to their homeland, far north, and share the rest of his life with her. But his vision of the past changed all: he no longer needed Corrie - vengeance was his sole desire.

He shook off her hand roughly without slowing down or glancing at her. But she didn’t give in and kept trying to stop him, until finally, he pushed her aside, and heard her fall and whimper in pain. He didn’t care, his life was over.  There was just one thing left for him to do. Desmon closed his eyes, unable to stare at his mortal enemy any more, his heart was beating so fast, he couldn’t bare it. Then, the most unexpected thing happened: his body went flying to the ground, he was knocked down by somebody soft, somebody that must have been  running at a great speed to achieve this remarkable fit, given the difference in their body weights. And then came the real shock: she was kissing him, kissing him with so much love, passion and desperation. In that kiss she put everything that she could not yet express in words. So many times he dreamed about it, and yet it was so much sweeter than he imagined in his wildest dreams.

Desmon opened his eyes. The crash had its intended effect: he regained his senses. Corrie was beautiful, rays of sunlight shining through her brown hair, her perfect smooth skin gleaming. From her big black eyes tears were pouring abundantly and dripping down to his cheeks. They lay together for a few short moments listening to the wind whistle through the straw,.

“Now is not the time,” she whispered in his ear. Desmon looked into her pleading, understanding eyes, and suddenly realized, that she knew everything, all that pain, agony and hatred that he felt, she also felt. It was a strong bond that existed between them, a bond that allowed her to read his mind, his intentions. He did not know if she had the same vision sometime in the past, or if her story was similar to his. All that mattered was that she knew, and he was no longer alone in the dark circle of pain and hatred. “You must be strong now, Desmon. Be strong for me, because I need you.” He embraced her frail body and kissed her. They sat together in silence, two lost souls sheltered from the hostile world by swaying stalks of golden hay.