Bonds

[invitan]

::Bonds::

The Oracle of Apollo at Delphi dates back to 1400 BC. Julian the Apostate (331/332– - 26 June 363), a Roman emperor, tried to revive classical Greek culture in the mid 4-th century AD. He is said to have consulted the Oracle of Delphi. The Pythia responded with the following oracle: 

 

"Go tell the King, the well-wrought hall has fallen in the dust;
Phoebus Apollo no longer has a home or laurel, or a murmuring spring.
Even the talkative spring has dried up and is no more"

 

This was probably the last advice from the Oracle of Delphi. The Oracle said that the time to revive classical Greek culture has passed, Apollo is dead.

 

 

 

 

~*~*~

She closed her eyes as the trance became ingressive. No time left to concede, no other chance to burst these bonds between humble human and the divine deity, Pythia’s chapped lips slightly stirred. Her eyelids wide opened - this would be the end of everything.

 

The ruined town of Parnassus was the first scene her mind could sense. Blurred, uncertain dilapidated figures crossed her mind; vague, inarticulate sobs of children echoed by her ears. She could still hear from out of nowhere some pitched voice howling her own name.

 

Something that she could not remember.

 

Her name had been buried in memories a long time ago, ever since the priest from Delphi came to collect her from the town of earthquake destruction to serve Apollo – the god of Light – as his divine messenger, the Pythia.

 

“Thou shall be, as thy loyalty to Phoebus Apollo shall revive the prosperity of Parnassus the mount”, declared the priest from the shrine of Delphi during her consecration.

 

She already lost count whether it had been twenty or thirty years since she began to be seated on this tripod stand. Sometimes she would wonder why Apollo had called upon to an ignorant woman who could neither read nor write to deliver his holy prophesies that shaped future to mankind. It was as if a vine sprouted from Mount Olympia of Gods had unexpectedly clung onto her feet so tightly and pulling her upwards the hollow air.

 

“Pythia, the supplicant has arrived. You shall be prepared and carry on the etiquette without his participation,” said the head priest this early morning with an unmistakably hint of joy. Then he lowered his voice, “This might be our chance to resurrect the spirit of Delphi , so please do your job properly, as usual.”

 

Nodding slightly, she trotted down Mount Parnassus to purify her torso in the waters of Castalia Spring – once the sacred stream, now the dried up opaque brook. The suppliant, though supposed to accompany her, was probably not immune to sharing the same waters with such a low-class Pythia, the descent connection between human and Apollo.

 

After bathing herself, Pythia returned to the inner sanctuary, approaching Dyonisus’s tomb to take a sip of Cassotic Spring. Again, the suppliant never appeared to fulfill his deed. Sighing, she ascended the rusty bronze tripod, picking up a handful laurel leaves and beginning to chew. Immediately, she realized these bitter bits of withered leaves in her mouth were no laurel of glory at all.

 

Turning around, she hardly recognized the same shrine that once was the centre of the world. One of the main pillars had collapsed since the earthquake that made Parnassus tremble years ago. A crack that fit her tight fist split the hollow floor in two halves beneath the low, mossy ceiling, wrapping the moist, heavy and silent air without any sign of life.

 

She sat there, tied to the tripod stand, overwhelmed by the bitterness of the leaves in her mouth.

 

“Holy Pythia, messenger of Apollo, prepared as thou shall be?”

 

Behind the curtain echoed a soft voice after a while, probably from an aristocrat. Pythia could start sense herself wreathed in the holy fragrance, knowing that the trance was approaching. Her shoulders started quivering violently, her face shriveled, and she began to babble gibberish in a high-pitched voice, which was quickly interpreted by the priests as the possession of Apollo. Pausing for a while, the man introduced himself as the messenger from the emperor, Julian the Apostate. He had come to consult Apollo with golden arrows whether or not the emperor should revive the classical culture of Greece , especially to reconstruct the great shrine of Delphi , once the navel of the earth.

 

Pythia sensed a flash of horror inside. The bonds tying her to god had weakened together with the descent of the shrine, at the same time the frail ray of hope to resurrect her bonds to family had started to grow. Something she did not want to lose again.

 

So for the very first time in years, she spoke in her own articulate human voice, delivering the last Oracle of Apollo as well as the last prophecy of Pythia of Delphi.

 

"Go tell the King, the well-wrought hall has fallen in the dust; Phoebus Apollo no longer has a home or laurel, or a murmuring spring. Even the talkative spring has dried up and is no more".

 

Pythia slightly smiled at the bewilderment of the priests and the nobleman. She knew she would die, but at the very least, the bonds had been broken.

~*~*~
Terms:

Pythia: (Greek mythology) the priestess of Apollo at Delphi who transmitted the oracles
Delphi: an ancient Greek city on the slopes of Mount Parnassus; site of the oracle of Delphi, worshipping Apollo - the God of Light
Oracle: a shrine where an oracular god is consulted

~*~*~


A narrative essay that is written in the novel-style, resulting in great confusion to the teacher. Bad grade despite all my effort to write it (which consists of two whole days to research and write)

Comments

[onepiecefc.livejournal.com]

GFDKLDFHGL Stupid teacher, this is awesome TT___TT" But what's confusing anyway? And what did the teacher tell you to do :("

[invitan.livejournal.com]

Actually this is not the version that I submitted to her T_T (of course, the essay must be below 550 words - I actually tried to cheat somehow and end up around 600 words). Just imagine you cut all the contextual background, the terms, the setting, the last line, and blah blah blah... Even I would not have understood if not for the fact that I wrote it. I gave my friends the piece before submission to see if they could understand, but they were confused in both the full version (which is this one) and the shortened version, so I have already been aware.

And this is the result:

"I seriously have problem understanding your st... (sth I couldn't make out). Is this what you have read from a novel (WTH??? I COMPLETELY MADE IT UP!!!)? Remember that it is dangerous to summarize a novel into a narrative because a lot of contextual info will be lost (well... actually it was because of the stupid words restriction... or else I would probably wrote about 1000 or 2000). I do not understand your last 2 paragraphs at all. What is the significance of BONDS?" (to put it simply, it is the BONDS between human and gods, which I have already explained... damn... )

And the band mark was intolerable.

"Lack liveliness and interest value"??? I have been working for 2 days to work out the moral... aha...
"Vocabulary: insufficiently developed to achieve precision" --> If only she had known I spent the whole time trying to find the most suitable words to create the mood...
"Lack of originality and/or some evidence of lack of planning" --> What is LACK OF ORIGINALITY?

Oh well, I guess that's just it. I was stupid enough to write a narrative piece with reference to Greek mythology... ahaha...

I'm babbling again = = Sorry... Feel kinda down these days.

[invitan.livejournal.com]

Well, never mind. I've already decided not to spare all my effort for English anyway = =