Final Draft
Name: Priya Draft Stage: Final
Class: T1B2 Date Of Draft: 24/1/07
Student no: S10032689H
A Fight for Freedom
The warm sun peeks through the cell bars and sends the shadows creeping back to darkness. Dimitris slowly rises up from his makeshift bed of pebbles and straw. He closes his eyes and kneels down to bow to Apollo, the sun. He basks in the heat, welcoming it like a mother’s warm embrace.
The rumbling of the cell door slowly unlocking itself interrupts his ritual. The huge silhouette of the guard obstructs the sunlight from streaming into the door and makes Dimitris focus on what the guard is holding in his hand instead. It is a body.
The guard tosses the blood-bathed body and Dimitris rushes towards it. He removes the helmet on the corpse to see the face behind it. It is his brother’s face, all white with his eyes rolled up into his head. The same brother who had just hours ago went for battle.
Dimitris clings onto the body and starts to sway unsteadily back and forth. Tears flow down like a river and he sobs like the mournful and insistent wail of a banshee.
A guard comes in and pours a bucket of cold water onto him. He shakes his head to clear his mind as drops of water scatter everywhere from his soaked head. He tosses an armour and sword near Dimitris’s feet.
He turns to Dimitris and says, “Prince Cornelius wishes to battle you. These weapons are his presents to you. Hurry up and get ready!” With that he slams the cell door and saunters away into the distance.
He runs his hand lovingly down the polished armour, feeling the layered coat of steel plates covering the exterior and black velvet in the inside, before peeling it off his brother’s blood bathed corpse.
He clenches his fist as he stands up and slowly puts on his brother’s helmet just like how his brother used to. The door slides open to signify it is time. He turns around for one last time to look at his brother. He kneels down and dabs his fingers in his brother’s blood and marks across his cheekbones.
With each dignified and deliberate step he makes his way into the arena. Just before stepping foot into the arena, he kneels down and prays to Ares, the god of war, to aid him in this battle. He grips the sword tightly as he prays. He can already see Cornelius getting cremated. He sees himself taking the ashes back to his brother’s grave, tossing it around like holy water, one that will make his brother’s soul rest in peace. He rises to his feet with newfound fury.
He enters the arena and looks up into the crowd. Peasants, Craftsmen and even the slaves are here. Everyone has come to watch the Warrior that Prince Cornelius has personally challenged. Amongst them he hears someone wagering that he will not make it alive.
The sound of drums signals Prince Cornelius arrival. His opponent oozes with elegance and arrogance. “Even though I have lost all three battles that I ever fought…For my brother, I have to do this” he says to himself.
They look at each other from head to toe, each sizing up the other. He stares at Cornelius. He has deep green fathomless eyes that seem to pull him towards them. Medusa’s eyes he tells himself. Do not look into them, during battle. The blow of the horn interrupts his thoughts and brings him back to the arena. The fight begins.
They circle and stare intently at each other like two menacing Cyclopes. Anger clouding his mind, Dimitris makes the first move. He uses his sword as a spear and throws it straight at Cornelius. Cornelius neatly dodges it and laughs mockingly. His skills forgotten. His moves animalistic. His anger – raw, Dimitris charges at Cornelius like a wild Minotaur. He misses.
“Why us? Why are you bent on destroying my family?” asks Dimitris, with frustration as he dodges a stab. No reply. He sees a flicker of anger in those green eyes. Then it is gone.
Not caring about the shield on his hand, Dimitris keeps attacking him. Cornelius just casually deflects every move with a smirk on his face. He knows Dimitris’s Achilles’ heel-his anger. He continues to taunt him, “Your brother begged like a hussy as I stabbed him”. Dimitris lunges.
Dimitris rapidly lowers his body and swings his sword to slash his opponent’s torso. However as though as foreseeing it, his opponent hits the blade of the sword and deflects it out of his hand. Startled, he backs away and stumbles. Seeing that as his chance, Cornelius hurls down the sword aiming for his heart.
It is as though time is slowing down that very instant. Lying on the ground with the sun glaring at him, Dimitris feels his time is up. He sees the sword slowly approach him. The sunlight hitting the approaching blade causes a glare and all he sees is white.
He forces himself to see through the glare and there, he sees his brother’s face.
Everything begins to swirl back and Dimitris sees the sword coming towards him as though not a second had passed. He immediately slides to the side and manages to dodge yet again.
He hits the hilt of Cornelius’s sword and sends it flying to the ground. Cornelius scrambles towards it. Just as he was about to reach it, Dimitris lunges forward and chops his hand off. Blood gushes out like the ever-flowing Acheron river as Cornelius whimpers in pain.
Dimitris walks menacing towards him. Cornelius retreats slowly, dragging his body along with him. “Now tell me, why us?” he asks with venom in his voice.
“I had vowed to my father that I will finish off your family.Your father… my mother..” whimpers Cornelius
Dimitris steps onto his foot to stop him from backing away. He understood. “All because of something that happened along time ago.” he mutters through grinding his teeth.
He glares at Cornelius as he removes his amour and throws it on the ground. He does a spin and is now at the back of him. He pulls Cornelius’s head back as he whispers “May Charon bring you safely to your new home in Hades” into his ears right before piercing his sword into Cornelius’s heart. Slowly he removes the blood stained sword from his opponent. The crowd roars.
A gust of wind brushes against his face. Oblivious of the celebrations going on in the background, he looks up into the heavenly sky and sees his brother’s face smiling down at him.
- Hussy/Huswife – old English word for whore by Shakespeare in Twelfth Night.
