Strange indeed are those sprays of red. Sometimes thick and oily as blood, other times dark as cuttlefish ink, and just when you think it has reached its final instance as it should, in that opaque blackness, Hades darkness, the Sun again changes it into hues of purple. It insinuates a sunset, when the whole world is smeared in colours of gold on the horizon, beneath still uncertain and shameful stars, Muses of the night.
Deceptive elixir that is! And when swallowed it tastes of sour cherries and olives, as if they were kneaded in, with the light taste of human blood—without it, the wine holds no same appeal. I’ve run out of colours, now only the empty cup remains, so I shout with lips numb like they belong to someone else - Pour boy! - The man of at least fifty years, with tired eyes, tips the jug and the colours are back again. While I mourn, I will deprive him of sleep as long as there is wine, or consciousness in me. I’ve never keeled over from drinking, but have seen others achieve it. What a great skill! I'll try it now, with hope that there is enough wine on this desolate rock in the middle of the sea that humans call island.
Again the day comes. Just going in circles, no meaning in it. I do not like the day, night is my time. It hides the sins of mortals. At night maenades fornicate, drink, and prance Syrtos in my tribute. The mortal is pouring again this fragrant purple nectar. It is better than yours, Father! - Pour more, old man, this is a big cup, and then you will have some rest before you need to pour again! Pour, may the Erinyes take you, pour! No more? Run. Hurry. Get it. I must drown my sorrow...-
Moonlight becomes her. During the day they come to admire her, whispering. They think that I cannot hear, as that could be: - The way she glows, as if she were made of light and nothing else. And more beautiful than she once was! - so they whisper. But she's not.
How could she be more beautiful? When I first saw her....long hair, loose, brown like gold. The sun bathed these cascades of hair. I loved the day, back then. More beautiful than a goddess in the face of Helios, and even more beautiful silvered by Selene. How to resist such a beauty? I took her then. I took her because that is what gods do. They take what they want. And her I wanted more than anything else and more than anything I’ve had before. Now I want her to be alive.
She refused me. Drove me away while desires burned up my immortal soul. I laid her on the altar of worship, and yet she refused me again. I, a God; I offered to be a slave to a mortal, and she rejected me to a promise of chastity. As if mortals don't know that there is no virtue, that it doesn't exist in this world of sin. Lust fevered me, and I took her by force. For days, so many times. She conceded under my godlike power, lustful and pure at once, hetairai and virgo, a Maenad and Vestal. And after each new climax she enjoyed it more, and she grieved more. She wore her pleasures bitterly. She was crying. I would comfort her while my lust grew again, and my groin burned of new desires, and then I would take her once more.
One morning I surprised her in prayer. To goddess virgin Artemis she spoke. And She that never felt lust, She, the sinner saint heard her prayers and with a mighty celestial spear darkened my happiness. To crystallos Artemis transformed my love, so I can steal see her, admire her, want her, feel her warmth and softness of skin, hear the heart beating in bosom, but my gaze hopelessly fell on the thickness of stone. As much as crystallos is a stone of Atlantis, bringer of life and holy joy, it stills remains rigid and untouched by my caresses.
Now, she beautiful and light as ever stands in eternity to invoke my desires, and grief, as what could I do: I took as Gods always did, as my father took mortal so many times, as he once took my mother and made a God. I would make a God for her to, if she had let me. Artemis took my love away, as I took Amethyst her chastity. Everybody takes, and mortals do to when they can. This is a world of takers and seizers, as is the only way something becomes ours.
So Crystallos eyes are watching me now, glowing under the Sun, devouring and haunting me. I see others coming again, hiding in the trees, to admire and whisper, thinking I cannot hear them, but how could I not? Even if I weren't able to hear every word, I would know what they are saying. - Run, you measly cowards, run you mere poor mortals, as I will throw stones to cut you each down. Run! - And Amethyst, don't look at me like that. Don't look at me so contemptuously, as if you knew something more than mortals are allowed to know, as if Artemis told you many cosmic secrets when she turned you to stone. Don't look at me, Amethyst, with those shiny crystallos eyes. Don't look at me like that, my love. - Bring wine, you worm, bring it quickly, I have run out, and in drought everything will burn.
Father asked me how long I will mourn. What could I say to the mighty Zeus that he doesn't know already? - As much as it takes, until it goes away. Until I turn as rabid as mortals on feasts in my honor. Until I tope the last drop of wine that can be found on this bare rock in the middle of the sea. While only vinegar remains.
And Amethyst’s father comes to mourn. He looks at me from afar. He was told what happened, and now he watches me with helpless blind hate, Mortals always hate and loathe Gods when met with sorrowful fates. They conjure us, pray, but if we don't listen to their prayers, then they curse us. Little do they know that we are so much like them, just ordinary sons of bitches.
-Pour wine! -
No wine, he says and trembles with fear. On this bare rock that floats on waves no single drop of wine is left. I spit on him. - Run! Run quickly! You make me sick. -
Some wine left in the cup, near to a chous. I am conscious still, and those crystallos eyes are still burning me and cutting me like a blade. - You want some wine Amethyst? Have some, or are you too pure to drink? For me not enough is left anyway, take it. I could not forget your touches and my sins, take!
The crystallos of your eyes now becomes purple, and soon your whole body too. Something new is born, some purple crystallos, it seems. From sin always something good too comes, as the purest thing also brings some iniquity. Have some more wine, Amethyst, purple becomes you. Let purple in. Let your bosom be magenta, light as your purity and kindness, on your head translucent as your honesty. But let the eyes get dark purple as the night with no stars so it can hide away my sins and lust. Let my sins stay between us, Amethyst, don't look at me like that. I am just a son of a bitch, I said. Just a son of a bitch that took what he wanted. We all are: from the one that ran when wine drained away, to those that came to whisper and admire, to the father that mourns and curses me and Artemis equally. Artemis the Virgin too - we all take what we want, not concerned by consequences until they haunt us. Then we turn to the sky and curse the Gods. But not you Amethyst. You are a sister of the stars, you are my purple crystallos, my sin. I'll disperse your body to four corners of the world, Amethyst, so that all others might see and remember your kindness and purity, humility and honesty. Let all those in sight of your purple crystallos know each virtue that you were adorned with. But I fear that it is all in vain, for we are all only sons of bitches.
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