Arthur Ashe is Lonely

Phoenix Ashe and the Sorcers

Exactly thirteen years prior, Arthur Ashe returned home from his clerk job at the Lucky Wicket and trudged up two flights of stairs to his attic room. At twenty, Arthur attended community college, volunteered at his local library, and worked his part time job at his least favorite gas station convenience store. He barely had time to sleep a full night, but Arthur Ashe was bored. And lonely. For him, it just felt like something was missing. 

True, Arthur didn't have many friends. Those he'd traversed high school with had all moved on to big universities or big cities. And their calendars for getting together never matched his. His parents were late bloomers, meaning they had Arthur late in their lives. And Arthur wasn't sure his parents approved of their late-in-life decision. They had tried to raise him in their own images but with television and the internet and Arthur's voracious curiosity, they fought a losing battle. Their traditional values always seemed at odds with their desire to hold on to a past rife with the harm of other people. So Arthur kept his thoughts to himself out of respect for his mother and father but when one didn't speak, one didn't make friends- not even with one's parents.

Arthur sat down on the orange, tan and brown bed quilt and realized he was lonely, but there was nothing to do about it. Except sleep. He would still be lonely when he woke but he didn't feel lonely while he slept. He didn't feel anything, as far as he could remember. Arthur pulled off his aged white Nike's, pushed out of his green t-shirt and jeans (mom insisted he never wear his outside clothes to bed) and laid his head on the pillow without climbing under the sheets. His baby blue ceiling stared down at him, silent.

Arthur Ashe was lonely but tired. His vision blurred. His thoughts softened. His lids lowered as he thought, I really need a friend. In his last moment of consciousness, he heard a female
voice. "I really need a friend too."

(Land of Mana) Gabriel Galadriel- 20

I am Gabriel Galadriel~
I have more time on my hands now, than I ever imagined possible. It is odd when one is cursed, how we never once think we may be in the situation in which we end up. For me, I think, maybe just a pinch of forethought would have revealed I traveled a tortured road. But I can't think back on that now. What is, is. What will be, etcetera.

Still, with so much time on my hands, I've time to consider the missteps of my youth. I was a rebellious older son, as children go. Oft times, my father would comment on the oddity of my behavior and that of my brother's as he compared us with royalty of other lands. The eldest son was always considered responsible. The younger, the risk taker. But for my brother, Cian and I, our characters were a complete opposite. Truly, I was the stronger and smarter of the two, but intelligence does not always translate into good decisions. I was first to reciprocate a punch in a fight, first on the front line of any battle, first among my friends to lay with a woman. I threw my life and caution to the wind and demanded God throw life back at me full throttle.

Cian plotted out every move he made. He worked not on instinct but with discipline. I oft admired his ability to calculate and manipulate those around him. Not for foul, mind you, but to accomplish his diplomatic goals. It is too bad our father did not so appreciate our strengths. So many droll meetings of state did I sit through, my gaze passing through the tall stately windows of my father's meeting chamber. I felt as if my soul wished to fly out into the glorious blue sky... but I was trapped just as my spirit companion, its large Eagle wings stretching to take me farther, spread wide.

As if it were yesterday, I could feel the fresh air on my face. The sun shone down on my soluble form. Freedom was close. One moment more and I would be gone from this place! The drone of my father's advisors faded away behind me. Then the inevitable jerk. Brown and white wings were suddenly trussed up into a shamble of mauve-colored drapes. My soul was pulled taut, stretched and stopped forever from escape.

And what would I see in my captured state then my brother sitting on a stone bench in the quiet garden below, book in hand. His face was turned up as if he could hear me calling to him. There was longing on his face. And sadness. I knew his thoughts though I could not have heard any words he might have uttered from there. Were he me, he would not escape. He would relish the game I call country running. Yes. That was longing tinging his face.

And then he would look down once more at his book. I, in my body once more, would be called to pay attention. And I would turn to my father, his long gray beard swinging with those words of chastisement, and whisper a tired, "I'm sorry, father." His gold crowned head would nod.

Oh yes, I do so wish my father had seen then that I was fitted to be the adventurous son and Cian, to rule. I might not have run headlong into the danger to prove myself a knight. Still, looking back now stuck as I am in this infinite hell, I feel a sense of loss. I did not wish to be the ruler of a kingdom. I did wish to be my father's son. I did embrace life in my father's castle. I remember the smell of lavender incense, the softness of pelts padding the chambers, even the sweet soft burn of scented candles in tapers along the walls. I might try to look up now and can almost envision the beauty of the tall arched ceiling above me. So old and austere. So beautiful. So confining yet still my home.

But those are fast fading memories. I have been trapped in this cabin a year with no hope of escape and only my sanity to keep me company. I fear that too shall flee me in time. Yes, and I have time... I have time to keep me company as I never age, never love, never have sons of my own to chastise. I am truly cursed! Anger overcomes me.

Diary of Theseus- Attica and Athens

Tonight I dine with my father, who is ever diligent of his responsibility as host. Of this I am glad, for I think his wife, Medeia, is not honest in her welcome. There is something in the darkness of her eyes and, although I have not pronounced myself, I thinks she knows well who I am. Still, this shall be my last entry before I reveal my parentage to my father so I will account of my time in Attica and my arrival in Athens proper.

Attica is a land very lush in small plant life and I felt my step lighten over the dark grasses as I beheld the sparkling river, Kephisos. I approached and laid down my club and sack and looked out at the other side of the water. So absorbed was I, that I didn't hear Phytalus' five sons approach and greet me. I am an honorable man and revealed myself their kinsmen's killer as they are cousins to Sinis. However, they knew of Sinis' malign intent and forgave me his death. All five men bade me walk with them and before the alter of Gracious Zeus, Zeus Meilichios, I held myself pliant as they purified my soul at the stone slab, my head bowed. That this clan, a kin to Sinis, offered their blessing is telling to the rightness of my journey and I continued on my way to Athens pure of heart and relieved of my sin. It is a good way to greet a father, I think.

As it happened, I come into Athens on my father's sacred day. 'Tis the eighth day of Kronos and I located my father's household at the temple of Apollo Delphinios celebrating the day with much flair. The temple is incomplete, having no dome to it, but I shall be grateful for this, come time for me to sit with Aegis. There are many in attendance and my ears rang as I found them there, with the gleeful laughter and spoken word of so many.

I have not revealed myself, as I say, but requested shelter as a guest of Athens, which my father's steward easily granted. I glimpsed both my father and his wife briefly and it was as my eyes met hers, that I sensed her recognition of me. It was, in fact, the narrowing of her gaze and the feeling of ill emanating from her, that stayed my voice from declaring myself then. What provoked my concern, I can not identify, but I shall rectify my silence this evening.

No more shall I write in this book, of my life. I shall begin a new accounting as the son of the king of Athens and celebrate my union with my father as I celebrate divesting the road between my mother's land, Troezen, and my father's land Athens. Theseus of Troezen is no more!

Diary of Theseus- Kerkyon at Eleusis

There are many tales of my travels I would impart on the page, but alas I near Athens and my tales must be written in more formal form there. I admit to a certain hesitancy at meeting my father. He is a great man who rules far and wide. How shall I be received by him? I have cared for his sword and sandals and have cleared the the roads to Athens of those that divide the land. I am his man now yet I hope he shall be proud to call me son. But I dwell, and the sun lowers on the horizon. I must recount of Kerkyon as I traveled from Megara to Eleusis.

I heard him before I saw him, so blustering and arrogant a man he was. His booming voice was heard as he bragged of his strength as a determination of his right to rule the land. To say nothing of being a leader, only a tyrant understands it takes more than strength to lay claim to the land. Intelligence and diplomacy as well must rule a leader's heart. And it was with those tools that he was bested. Not his strength. I heard his voice as I paced up the dry road to Athens. I could not see the path beyond the hill I climbed, but he took no care to lay siege to me, but yelled from where he waited, "There is a traveler I hear upon my road. Your steps are firm and heavy, so you must be a man of impressive stature and confidence. Come and test your strength, be you man enough to try. Come!" But I am not so young I rush into battle. My courage comes from perseverance and I continued at my pace and leisure then finally came upon him.

Although a man, he looked like a monster. His facial features were decidedly serpentine in nature, long face with a flat nose and a head elongated as a newly-born babe. But all this would not have phased me. It was the tail that jutted out from behind him. My stomach turned to see the limp appendage swinging to and fro behind him. I made small order of this monstrosity for Kerkyon is a man who kills with his hands and I have said true skill requires more than strength. As he grabbed for me, I twisted to catch his torso and hoisted him above my head. Twisting, I spun him by his legs, a skill great Herakles imparted to me as he visited my grandfather in my youth. With a large thrust, he flew into the air and I listened to him scream in disgust. I am not so powerful, yet the manner to my throw cast him up then down in such fashion that he landed with a crash.

The sound grated at my ears. He did not move and, from the position of his body, I saw he was dead. I approached, and knelt to touch him and found the bones in his face crushed. Such are those who would divide Athens, punished. It is time to sleep. I shall write the last entry of my journey when my feet pass Hermes marker at Athens.

Diary of Theseus- Sinis, the pine bender

It is morning now- I bested a man yet he was such a challenge I could not bring myself but to sleep these past two nights- he called himself Sinis- a man who thought himself the son of Hades; well he stays with Hades forever now. If he was the son of a god he was not the son of a Goddess. He did have great strength and will of character, but in the end he he died- he was not a deathless one.

Two night hence I traveled alone to the Corinthian harbour of Kenchreai, where the road bares away from Isthmus. This Sinis sat among the tall pines of trees, almost overwhelmed by the tall shrubbery of brown pines and leaves. He was a short man, his body muscular and attractive. I would have wanted him as a warrior of mine, were his continence not of the most foul and malignant. But such was he, obviously an angry man, his face so distorted, his scowl was probably permanently embedded. The mixture of god and man does so create in the child's mind a craze not easily soothed. Do I seem arrogant? Gods forgive my thoughts. I am human and imperfect-

Yet still, he was an angry and powerful man, Sinis. I slowed but did not encourage his accosting me. That is not a warrior's way. Pittheus taught his grandson well. Sinis spoke to me, one long beefy arm gesturing me closer.
"You are a wayward traveler," said he. I approached, my feet treading over the brittle leaves of underbrush like the crash of waves on the beach.
I replied with caution. "I know my way, friend." Hermes would have been proud. I was quite courteous to the man despite the obviousness of his mal-intent.
Here he stood straight, straightened his toga and travel cloak and stepped forward, and intent gleam in his eye. "No man who knew his way would pass me on the road by Corinth. There is always a price to pay for ignorance on this less traveled road."
At that he grabbed my arm, and with a mighty yank, had pulled me close, his biceps choking my throat, his hand stoll entrapping my own behind my back as his hot breath coursed through my ear.
"You see," said he. "You are a wayward traveler." He slammed me against a tree and, letting go of my arm, reached for the nearest pine branch. But although I knew my way and had chosen my way with intent, I also knew him for the evil that he was. He would tie my arm to the branch of the pine tree, then the other, then both feet and watch as the trees holding me, again stood straight and tore the limbs from me body.

I struggled but for a small man he was built with strength... and speed. Before I could get loose, he had my hand tied with course sailors string to the one tree, and was working on the other hand now. I slumped, moving my arm away from the tree he bent toward me, my eyes shutting quickly as the tree that held me littered my head and body with dead pine cones. I am heavy for a man. My body dragged to the ground the tree's branch and I felled Sinis pulling him down with me. Grabbing him, I pulled out my own sailors string and tied him to that same branch that held me captive, then quickly untied his amateur knot. Well-spoken and strong he was, but this was no sailor!

Then I grabbed the other tree that he'd yet to loose, and tied his wrist to that tree. He kicked out at me as I began to step away, anger and recognition on his face of what I'd done. His booted foot caught me in my temple and I staggered under the pain, my thoughts confused for a moment. Yet it was his instant screaming that brought me back to myself. Looking up into the blue sky as his final cry wrent the air, I watched the trees glisten with red and bits of man fling off into the air the domed the forest where I stood. I collapsed with fatigue and have only now pushed myself to rise so that I can continue on my journey. What a nasty beast was Sinis. I am glad to have got him gone!

Diary of Theseus: The Road to Athens 1- The Club Wielder

Tonight I shall sleep well. All that I saw for my future, for my world was proven today in my travels. Like the great Herakles, I was challenged by a great force that divided the land. Periphetes. In Epidaurus I came across this beast of a man. He, the son of Hephaistos with his iron club. I own his club now!

I walked on the path by the swift moving coastal route en right into Epidaurus. And there I was confronted by the Korynetes, Periphetes. He was a slow man. I'm inclined to say he suffered some crippling malign, but that did not excuse his attempt to bludgeon me to death. Me! Theseus. I am the son of a King!

I saw him at the side of the road leaning against the long metal handle of his club. I thought him asleep and made to walk past when I snatched a picture of him watching me out of the corner of my eyes. The thief would steal my life when my back was turned. I took another step slow and labored as I plotted how to prevent his attack, and saw him raise the heavy dull metal club over his head.
Swirling with the speed of one righteous, I caught him off guard, snatched the club from his thick fingers and gave to him what he intended for me. My arms went straining down as I let his club fall repeatedly on him. I could not stop but I did not want to. In the previous town off the circuit following the coastal route to Athens, they spoken of the many loved one and strangers who'd come across this monstrosity of the gods, and had lost their lives. Periphetes' club, my club came down on him. No more. No more loss of innocent life to this monster. When he was dead, the road ran red with blood and bone. But I felt no remorse. And then the gods sent down rain to clean away the path and to clean off the stench of death on my body.

Now this part of the road to Athens is clean, as am I, and I feel accomplishment at having made some small place in the world, safe. I shall continue to restore the safety of this route as long as the gods are willing. I must sleep now. My eyes quickly lose their allegiance to me in times of need.
I am anxious to see what comes tomorrow.

Diary of Theseus- 16, The Altar of Zeus' Strength

I am on my way to my father tonight, having retrieved my birthright from the Alter of Zeus' strength. I travel alone along the coast, much to my mother's horror and likely my grandfather's concern. Yet it is the right thing to do to travel as the gods seem fit.

But I would speak of claiming my birthright. Upon my return from Delphi, my mother took me in the steps of my father, as it were, to the Alter of Zeus strength. It is but a a large rock in the shape of a Titan's bench. I have passed it in innocence many times before in my youth as well as quite recently. It is here my mother paused, her colorful robes catching up the dust of the bend behind us. We stood at a cross-roads, where the rock marked the intersection and for a moment, I thought she had forgotten the way.

Then she swept her hand at the rock, though she would not look at it, and I knew what I was to do. "I am to lift the rock to prove my worth?" She but nodded as I put my hand on her shoulder. I felt her distress. I understood it. She and I knew my time with her was short.

My mother took a big breath then looked up at me, her eyes straining in unshed tears. "Your father's sword and sandals lie beneath the altar. Move the altar and take your birthright and you will be set to the path you were always meant for. You shall see your father, Aigeus... but do not forget about me, son. You are a prince of Troezen as well as Athens."

I nodded subdued, though my heart leapt at the thought of beginning the journey my grandfather had spoken of since before I could remember. Adventure! The altar was large and dense, but I was the son of a god and the son of a King. Setting aside my cloak, I stepped forward and grasped the bottom of the rock then heaved up with all my strength- I felt the altar move with me. I jostled the rock aside then stopped and let the rock drop when Aithra gasped. I had revealed the sword and sandals.

I turned and looked in the shallow basin under the rock, and there lay the tribute of my father. I pulled the sandals and sword out and quickly took off my own footwea . Slipping the dark dusty wood and leather onto my feet I swear I felt the air around me tighten. I was claiming my destiny.

Of the sword, I grabbed it and placed it behind my belt. There was nothing grand about either of these articles, but that they bore the mark of my father's house and were the keys to the throne of Athens.

Turning, I gave my mother a hug and tried to console her though my thoughts had already flown ahead onto the road before me. "I shall take the coast road to Athens," I told her. Thus ensued an argument for the sake of delay as well as honest concern, but I am a man now and I am the son of a King. I could not be delayed. I finally pulled away and sent her with my men, back to my grandfather with the promise that I would take great care of myself. And I shall. My path and life are predestined. Come what may, none will deter the Moirai. None shall deter my fate!