Time Turner
. . . fiction by Odyssea
. . .The Sound of the Drums. . .
The sound of the drums floats in on the cool night air.
Down at the beach, the fires burn brightly. Small figures move between them, highlighted when the fires are at their back, lost to the darkness between. Only the sound of drums is heard, not war drums, not exactly.
The people of Troy wonder, and cry, and pray. Perhaps, says the old man in the market, the Greeks are preparing to attack. The matron with a baby declares the Greeks are leaving, begging the gods for forgiveness. Others argue a thousand different ideas, of songs made and prayers given. Sacrifices at the great fires, begging for victory, or surrender, or peace.
The soldiers on the wall do not talk, but stare silently into the great night.
In the palace, Cassandra wails and screams, but only to herself. There is no one who will listen, now.
Beyond the great walls, stands a clever man. Odysseus, the trickster warrior. In the dark spaces between the fires, a shape begins to rise. A shape of treachery, of trickery.
No one knows yet what is to come, whether the bright sun of Phoebus Apollo will bring victory or defeat. For one moment, all, Trojan and Greek alike, are united in fear and ignorance.
And as the morning comes, all they can hear is the sound of the drums.
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