The Blood Of Attis
by 
tusker
|
Posted: Wednesday, April 30, 2008 Word Count: 358 Summary: Flash Fiction Challenge :Based very loosley on an ancient Celtic legend. |
Mad with jealousy, Cyblene rants while Attis, her only son, lies in the arms of a beautiful nymph, far more beautiful that his own mother. Cyblene, viewing from afar, paces the floor of her room and as she paces, she mutters dark incantations that swirl from her mouth like bile, souring the aroma of sweet herbs strewn beneath her feet.
Now her son's lovemaking, a stark scene in her mind's eye, causes those vile incantations to rise, bewailing Attis for his treachery and, his mother's vindictive spells snake from her mouth through the dense forest on a coil of revenge.
Suddenly, Attis pulls away from his lover. Leaping to his feet, with hands clamped over his ears, he flees from the beauty who's captured his heart, blundering through undergrowth, trying to find his way out. But, after many hours, weariness and despair overcomes him and he stumbles, collapsing against the sturdy trunk of an ancient May Tree.
Finally, exhausted by her fury, Cyblene sobs as, miles away, the May Tree weeps its white blossoms onto his prostrate from, rousing Attis with her sweet blooms that brush his cheeks like kisses.
Staggering to his feet, Attis pleads to the gods and Cyblene for forgiveness but, when no answer comes, he withdraws the sword that has slain many warriors and slices through his manhood.
Despite the distance between them, Cyblene, witnessing the terrible consequences of her jealousy, rushes from her home into woodland, frantically calling her son's name until, at last, she finds Attis lying dead at the base of the May Tree.
Falling to her kness, her long skirt drenched in his life's blood, she takes him in her arms and, as she weeps, rocking his body to and fro, pools of his blood mingle with the fertile earth beneath him, transforming his blood into clusters of deep blue violets.
At dusk, Cyblene carries Attis to his final resting place and the May Tree, watching from it's lofty height, begins to shed its lower branches in deep bereavement before bowing a thick cap of green foliage to the ground, adorning its leafy head in a fragrant crown of violets.
Now her son's lovemaking, a stark scene in her mind's eye, causes those vile incantations to rise, bewailing Attis for his treachery and, his mother's vindictive spells snake from her mouth through the dense forest on a coil of revenge.
Suddenly, Attis pulls away from his lover. Leaping to his feet, with hands clamped over his ears, he flees from the beauty who's captured his heart, blundering through undergrowth, trying to find his way out. But, after many hours, weariness and despair overcomes him and he stumbles, collapsing against the sturdy trunk of an ancient May Tree.
Finally, exhausted by her fury, Cyblene sobs as, miles away, the May Tree weeps its white blossoms onto his prostrate from, rousing Attis with her sweet blooms that brush his cheeks like kisses.
Staggering to his feet, Attis pleads to the gods and Cyblene for forgiveness but, when no answer comes, he withdraws the sword that has slain many warriors and slices through his manhood.
Despite the distance between them, Cyblene, witnessing the terrible consequences of her jealousy, rushes from her home into woodland, frantically calling her son's name until, at last, she finds Attis lying dead at the base of the May Tree.
Falling to her kness, her long skirt drenched in his life's blood, she takes him in her arms and, as she weeps, rocking his body to and fro, pools of his blood mingle with the fertile earth beneath him, transforming his blood into clusters of deep blue violets.
At dusk, Cyblene carries Attis to his final resting place and the May Tree, watching from it's lofty height, begins to shed its lower branches in deep bereavement before bowing a thick cap of green foliage to the ground, adorning its leafy head in a fragrant crown of violets.