|
|
|
 Staff photo/Katie Yantis: A truck dumps dirt along the Miami and Erie Canal towpath where it crosses Ohio 66. The project will make it easier for those using the towpath to cross Ohio 66.
By KATIE YANTIS
Staff Writer
ST. MARYS — Hiker, bikers and walkers in the region will notice a
difference in a few sections of the Miami and Erie Canal towpath trail
starting this week.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Local Wins Library Contest |
|
|
|
Friday, 10 July 2009 |
Nick Hess, 17, a senior student at New Bremen Schools, won the St. Marys Community Public Library’s recent short story contest. Hess wrote the story of Therus, a crafty thief who changes his life for the better after his adventures in Rome and Pompeii in the 700s. Except for some very minor editing, the story appears as it was written by Hess, and as he submitted it for judging.
By NICK HESS
Contest winner
As the people bustled through the market, their gold flowing freely, Therus watched the exchanges and sprawled himself upon the steps of the “Great Building,” of which he never did learn the name. Hmm…He continued to watch the careless spending. Silk sheets, vases, and various other goods were haggled, some for too much, some for too little. Each transaction caught his eye and he noted where the gold was at all times. Thrown in bowls, pockets, and safes, he had probably counted hundreds of coins. No, not today. He sighed. It
at marks the end of a long day, but this day had just begun.
“The great Titus Flavius Vespasian’s glorious reign has brought much prosperity to the fair empire of Rome. His Legions have easily conquered the Jewish capital and leveled their temple.”
An orator, who appeared to be a soldier, entered the market... Not tooodayyyyyy …“He is succeeding at washing their filth from land, silencing their rebellion, and creating a better world for all of Rome. And now, your considerate taxes are always appreciated, as he is constructing the great Flavian Amphitheater.” Pointing towards the building which Therus rested at, his eyes locked with the careless youth’s. Therus’s eyebrows rose, and soon were accompanied by his eyes rolling. He picked up his figure, muttered a curse, and left the main street of the market.
The bright colors of shops attracted eyes. My foul luck...I can’t believe I had to hear more of that babble about the “Great Emperor.” His thoughts continued flowing until his former life took reign of his thoughts. A simple farm boy; that was all he ever wanted to be, but he continued to follow the cobblestone paths. Those Colored shops continually plagued him until something, gleaming in the bright afternoon light, caught his attention. He stared at the sheathed knife with intensity. Its masterly-crafted splendor reflected though his mind. He glanced at the shop-keeper—his back turned—hmm. Touching the surface of the blade he could sense the delicate care and precision that created such a marvelous blade. How could the owner of such a precious item leave it so unguarded? No, Therus fought with his emotions until he left the shop empty handed.
His home, its walls decaying with their ancient age, was his only shelter in the entire city. There he could relax, be away from eyes of the hypocritical and malign. He held a sense of love for the decrepit building. It was not only his shelter; he felt it a comrade. It was as if it was something that was in a similar situation as he.
“The city of Rome is fair indeed. The people are so happy. We just do not belong here.”
He spoke to his friend, his comfort, his peace. As night dawned the air contained a sense of fulfillment, a sense that his life was perhaps meaningful. His occupation was not the only thing that defined him…for once.
“Give it back!” a voice demanded, shattering the stillness. Therus gazed, fear-stuck, at the owner of the shop he attended earlier. The long, grey beard of the store-owner tossed furiously as the man stormed about Therus’s home. The accused fidgeted.
“I do not have the knife!” Therus pleaded.
“Hah—how did you know the knife was stolen?!” The cunning of the aged man quickly tore through Therus’s words, dissecting each syllable.
“I…uhhh...I…damnit...” he paused, “…I considered stealing it — but I swear I did not.” His voice lacked any hint of mellifluousness.
“Give it to me now.” Unforgiving, the owner’s un-swaying position left little room for Therus’s actions. He darted into the night. His heart raced. It had not stopped drumming, keeping that feverous beat in his chest since he had first heard the old man’s voice.
The owner trailed in pursuit, but for little reason. His feeble legs could hardly keep pace with jog, let alone a sprinting thief. Each step put Therus further and further and further from the pursuer. A quick turn down an alley and a swift ascension of a tree was all he needed to escape.
The store owner entered into Therus’s view, although he could never find Therus. Hidden among the foliage, Therus watched as the old man cursed and stomped around the empty alley. The expression upon his face was pitiful. Therus couldn’t help but feel bad for the man, he, after all, did lose a valuable knife. Even if it wasn’t Therus’s fault he wished he could correct it.
The old man started heading home. His expression forced Therus to look away from his face. Something else caught the youth’s eye. The man was followed. A shadowed figure inched closer. The color drained from Therus’s face. His heart was still, beating only when the ominous figure took a step. Flashing from its sheath, a knife struck the throat of the store keeper. Therus recognized the death-dealer’s glimmer. It had slain its master. For the first time since seeing that knife, he realized the true purpose of the weapon’s creation: to kill. Its purpose fulfilled, the blade was cast into the street. The assassin fled.
Therus’s emotions stormed. Anger and pity. Carelessly, he leapt from the tree and claimed the blade. Rage drove his actions. Silent steps, a thief’s steps, would be the undoing of an assassin.
“Have you completed your task?”
“Yes, sire. The deed is done. Orin is dead.”
“Did you use the knife as planned?”
“Yes, none will be able to relate the knife to anyone except the Jewish swindler.”
“Were you seen!?”
“No, sire. The alley was empty.”
“You are wrong.” Therus thrust himself into the debriefing. “I was there. I saw the blood of that man spilled upon the street. He tried to make an honest living, and you ROBBED him of that.”
“…But how?! I was certain I was never followed…I even traced an elaborate route to prepare for such an instance!? I had spent weeks, placing each moment, each cursed footstep into its perfect place.”
“Silence, Deficious. You’re actions are a failure to my throne.”
The authority figure pulled the assassin closer, out of range from Therus’s ears. “If the people linked this back to me…that would be the end of it.”
“Your majesty, I have flawlessly killed dozens for you. To punish me for such an unforeseen error...”
Deficious’s, eyes wandered to examine the one who out-tracked the Emperor’s tracker. Therus met his gaze. Deficious owned the same eyes as the solider who spoke so highly of Vespasian in the market. The solider also realized this but before he could speak this to his emperor… Blood began to seep from the knife, immersed within his back. “Nex ut Deficious — Death to Deficious. I have killed hundreds to your dozens you are nothing.”
The Emperor marched towards Therus.
“I apologize for my rudeness. I should always be very courteous to even the humblest of guests.”
Therus took note of the hint of elitism in the Emperor’s voice.
“I am Titus Flavius Vespasian, ruler of Rome.”
“I know who you are…” Therus kept his next words to himself, That does not grant you innocence, “…but why did you have the shopkeeper killed?”
“You see, he is not like you and I—chosen Romans. He is of a…” he paused looking for his words “of a lesser breed, of Jews.”
“Ahh…I understand…” he forced his body from cringing at the sick injustice that crept from his lips.
“Splendid! You do see my way…but hmm…” His face was lost in a forest of thoughts. “Your tracking skills are quite marvelous. By chance, would you care to enlist your services to me?”
A smirk possessed Therus’s lips, “Certainly.”
“Get up!” Therus awoke to the command.
“What is the matter, Levisous?” Therus, eyes half open, peered at his new comrade.
“There are rumors about…we fear for the Emperor’s life.”
“Can’t it wait until morning?” Therus rolled over.
“Curse your insolence.”
“Yes, well… I’ll consider that later.” Therus abandoned the sweet solace of his dreams, yet still wished to remain with them. “Shall we be off then?” After Levisous left the room Therus packed his things. A knife, stained with the blood of Orin, hid among folds of clothes.
The Italian countryside, elegant and sunbathed, spread over a vast land. Flowing fields of a youthful green met the rich azure of the southern sky. “Ahhh…” Vespasian drew in fresh air. “There is no question as to why the Rome is here. This land has been chosen by the Gods.”
Rolling along with the imperial caravan, the hills seemed to put everyone into a pleasant aura. Even Therus could not be disturbed by Vespasian’s pretentious comments.
“Tell me though, why are we hiking to Pompeii? Wouldn’t a ship be more efficient?”
Levisous answered, “We are heading by ship. The public knows his majesty is heading to Pompeii. We’ve sent the royal ship ahead as trap for any attempted assassins. It’s not too far by land either, so if the ship drifts a bit we’ll arrive when it does, thus completing the illusion.”
“I like it…So this Pompeii, what’s it like?”
“It’s been prospering lately, becoming much like fair Rome.”
Therus stiffened. Rome. I shalln’t return to thee. “What is the excuse for the trip?”
“Ahh! It’s the feast of Vulcan! What better place to celebrate the god of fire than Pompeii, what with Vesuvius near. Heh, maybe we shall enjoy in some sweet wine ehh?”
“Sounds good to me.”
“What are you two going on about? Hurry and take scout.”
They reached the city as Apollo began to pull the sun under the horizon. It was the 23 of August, 79 AD, the feast of Vulcanalia. As the caravan approached the city, they could see the bon-fires being lit. Animals, mostly fish, were tossed into the flames.
Vesuvius, an ancient titan, towered off in the distance. Standing silently, it watched over its people, its power only held in restraint by Vulcan himself. It was a tyrant; the people feared and worshiped its omnipotent presence. It held their lives in within its grasp…and could crush them if it wished. Therus was awed by its size. “Vespasian will never be able to create something so massive.”
“I believe you are correct.” Levisous commented on Therus’s statement.
“Tell me Levisous, why do the people toss the perfectly healthy animals into their fires?”
“It’s a sacrifice to keep Vulcan pleased. Instead of Vulcan devouring people with his flames, animals are swallowed by the malevolent flames.”
Therus was about to reply when a voice soared over the festivities. “Vespasian, you’re just in time!”
“Ordinatious! It has been awhile my friend!”
“Aye, I hear you’ve fulfilled your destiny, Emperor. Well, it would be an honor to have you, the Emperor of almighty Rome and my dear friend, sacrifice the red bull-calf to Vulcan!”
“Hah, that will not be necessary, let us feast on it tonight instead! The meat on that beast is fine; it is too beautiful to be wasted.”
“Hah! Your wish is my command.”
The feasting went on through the night. Therus kept himself calm. He walked the backstreets, planning the rest of his life. He heard the cheering and the hopeful cries of the youth. He knew he did not belong here either.
“Curse you Vulcan. Your violence is a waste.”
He kept himself from drinking and from having fun that night. He walked out his feelings, then slept long before the festivities ended.
“Hmm…I suppose it is a grand amphitheater. But the one we are building in Rome will be much larger. In fact, I feel it will be remembered far into the future.” Vespasian said to his long-time friend.
“Along with the name of the great man who built it, indeed!” Ordinatious praised.
“Ordinatious, I’d like you to meet my newest friend,” he beckoned Therus to approach, “this is Therus. Even though we started off with fiery words, he’s become one of my most trusted guards. I think he warmed up to me quite a bit as well.” Therus feigned a smile as he had come accustomed to. After introducing Therus, Vespasian returned to discussing the construction of the amphitheater.
Therus checked the area. They were alone. Standing behind the two aged men he reached into his toga. The naked blade gleamed in the sunlight. He approached the back of Vespasian. —uuuuhggghhh. The image of Orin with his back turned crossed his mind. He found himself incapable of killing the emperor.
Returning the blade to his cloak he watched the men continue to discuss business. The earth shook. The blade hit stones. Vespasian spun, “What is this Therus; You were attempting to kill me?”
“No sire, I was just startled.”
“Guards! guards!” Vespasian squealed as the earth shook again.
Therus began to sprint away from the city, fleeing for the forest south of Pompeii. He climbed a tree about halfway through the forest. Therus laughed at the irony of his situation; he had started this adventure in a tree and he found himself again within the leafy branches. Fearing the unknowing, the guards meagerly searched the forest. The guards had little hope of finding him, and eventually returned to protect their king.
For the third time the earth shook. Therus stared at Vesuvius. Smoke billowed from its mouth. Soon afterwards it showed Vespasian its true power. It began to spew its indignation over the city. Flames devoured houses, animals, and people. All were sacrifices to Vulcan. All became dark when the sun was smothered by smoke. A roar of sheer power ripped the sky in two. Vulcan’s sea of flames swelled. Vesuvius flooded the amphitheater with lava. Then the massive reaper claimed the red bull-calf. Vespasian screamed in pain as his skin began to melt from the bone. “Ve, puto deus fio- Dammit; I think I am becoming a god.” Vesuvius had killed thousands to Vespasiain’s hundreds.
Therus descended the tree. Fear was his only guide. He continued his southern trek, and not satisfied to stop until far from Pompeii. He kept running. Days and nights passed until he was so tired he crashed upon the earth, and slept.
When he awoke, he no longer heard the roar of Vesuvius. At last things were calm for him. The fresh air, the stillness of the world around him, everything seemed like the way it was meant to be. His lifted his head from the rich earth. Perfect for farming. His lathered his hands in the soil and for the first time in years he laughed out of joy. At last, he was where he wanted to be.
Years had passed. A quiet cottage snuggled in its blankets of trees. A small family lived within that home. Therus, the father, plowed his garden each day, caring for his children feeding them the fruits of his labors and trials. His wife, one of the few survivors of pompeii knew little of his past. He never shared much with her. Despite that, she loved him for the man he had become, not who he was.
Canis ibam. Fueram quad salutors. In fine. |
|
Last Updated ( Tuesday, 01 September 2009 )
|
|
|
|
