Short Story: Mortal Eyes

DISCLAIMER: This short story is a much longer post than you’ve signed up for, so please feel free to look at last week’s post instead — since there’s been no other opportunity to see that one. If, however, you want to read this whole thing, I salute you.

Genre: Horror Fiction

Length: 2,053 words

Dusk had begun in Mycenaean Greece, in a time when the Bronze Age was still underway. The mortals Andrea and Erasmus were lovers in lands that would later be named Athens, and despite their lack of religious devotion, they found themselves intrigued by the Cult of Dionysus. Living past the fringes of society, the cult practised esoteric rituals for their God involving the Dionysian aspects of rebirth, madness, and wine. Often it was the wine that attracted the most followers, Andrea and Erasmus being no exceptions.

It was a cold night when a tall, bearded man came to their door. They had met him before, having shared an amiable dinner together. For their pleasant conversation, the man had promised to lead the couple to the next ceremony of the Dionysian Cult.

“Is it tonight?” Andrea asked concernedly. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll all freeze with such poor weather?”

“Of course tonight, when wine and dance will keep us warm,” replied the bearded man, his voice rich. He extended a hand for them to take, which Erasmus did immediately. Andrea hesitated—what was this man’s name again?—but followed suit. With a smile, the bearded man pulled them along.

In far too little time, the three were walking on a dirt path through a dense forest. The fog of the night seemed to follow them, never blocking their way but quickly filling in their footsteps. Andrea took notice of this and tried to stop to tell Erasmus, only to find her hand held fast by the bearded man.

“We should stop.” Andrea said. “Something doesn’t feel right.”

When Erasmus and the bearded man ignored her, she tried again to get out of the vice-like grip that held her.

“Let go of me, we have to stop! Something’s wrong!” Andrea cried out. The bearded man increased the pace that he led them by.

“No time to stop, or we’ll miss the ceremony—and we’ve come too far to turn back now,” he said with a hint of what could have been either excitement or anger. Andrea was still nervous and looked to Erasmus, who seemed mute. More than that, something seemed wrong with his eyes. Andrea struggled, but couldn’t get a closer look before the three emerged on a hilltop that looked down on a clearing ringed by tall trees and unnaturally free of fog.

“We’re here,” the bearded man said, pointing to the center of the clearing. There danced near a hundred people, each moving erratically and ignoring the sourceless music. Andrea tried to escape the unnerving scene, but when she struggled against the bearded man she was thrown down the hill with incredible force.

Erasmus stayed silently at the bearded man’s side, descending the hill with him. A big smile was on his face, and his odd eyes fell past Andrea, looking to the dancers. His partner ran to him.

“Why aren’t you terrified?” Andrea cried to him. “What’s going -”

Erasmus turned quickly to his partner and looked her directly in the eye. Andrea stepped back in shock as she realized what she had seen before. Deep purple had seeped into the corners of Erasmus’ eyes, and his irises had dulled from baby blue to grey.

“Join me, dear,” Erasmus said, starting to run down the hill. “Let’s dance together, like when we first met.”

Andrea stepped back, realizing that the bearded man had disappeared. Looking around herself, she was terrified to discover that the fog in the forests had thickened to the point that it seemed solid, as if it was impassable. Andrea felt her jaw drop, and the light seemed dim around her as her pupils dilated from fear. She wanted to run away from everything, but couldn’t bring herself to move.

“Andrea! Join me!” Erasmus yelled as he entered the dancing throng. He tried to leap and move in rhythm with those around him, but was knocked around by the other bodies. The group twisted and spun, and as nimble as Erasmus was he could not hope to keep up with them, to understand what insane pattern they followed.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” The bearded man asked him. He had appeared out of thin air, and watched the struggling Erasmus as more and more people crashed into him, keeping him hurt and off-balance.

“It is…” Erasmus began as a strange sadness seemed to overcome him. “But why can’t I follow them?”

“You cannot follow them until you understand the truth of the Gods,” the bearded man said. His arms outstretched and his hands gently rested on Erasmus’ cheeks. Erasmus looked up at the bearded man in wonder, realizing that the dancers had parted around them both.

Andrea was running now, running towards Erasmus with tears in her eyes. She had no idea what was going on, but felt like she had to stop the bearded man from doing to Erasmus what had been done to the dancers.

The bearded man glanced dismissively at Andrea and flicked his head in the woman’s direction. The dancers immediately shuddered, and started to gather around their bearded master. Their movements became aggressive, and Andrea found herself shoved to the ground, kicked about and spirited away from her lover.

“Let me show you the truth,” the bearded man said. Erasmus smiled again and nodded eagerly.

Andrea turned her eyes up to her attackers, none of whom had stopped dancing and none of whom seemed to pay him any attention. It was a terrible moment when she noticed that each of their necks sported a dark purple bruise, and it was with utter dread that she turned her eyes back to her lover.

The bearded man placed the palm of his hand flat against Erasmus’ neck. He smiled and nodded to the enchanted man before jerking his arms in opposite directions. Erasmus watched the bearded man in front of him and curiously noted the ethereal horns curving behind his new friend’s head. Then all feeling stopped past the snap of his own neck.

Andrea screamed in horror as Erasmus fell limp in the arms of the bearded man, who caught the corpse carefully. Laying the body down, the bearded man pressed his forehead against that of the late Erasmus.

Andrea tried again to reach her partner, and this time found her way unobstructed by the dancers. They had slowed their dance to a crawl, and were all staring at Erasmus’ body. Had Andrea checked their gazes, she would have seen that the entirety of their eyes were dark purple.

Just as he reached the bearded man, Erasmus jerked back to life. The revived man gave an unnatural cry of despair. He writhed in the bearded man’s arms, who rocked him and soothed him.

“Now you know the truth,” cooed the bearded man, who turned his head to regard Andrea. The dancers returned to their frenzied pace, though now a rotation of them circled Andrea, closing her off and pushing her away from the two men in the center of the clearing.

Erasmus shook with hopeless sobs, and the bearded man nodded in a dreadful understanding. “Would you like to forget it now?”

“Yes!” Erasmus whispered, his tone desperate. The bearded man smiled terribly and raised his hand, where a cup of wine appeared.

“Then drink deeply, child,” the bearded man said as he cradled Erasmus and brought the cup to the undead man’s lips.

“Don’t! Get away from him!” Andrea cried out. She was being battered by the mad dance, and could feel every muscle in her body shrieking for her to run off.

Erasmus turned his head towards Andrea. His eyes seemed to pulse with dark purple veins and contained a pain beyond reckoning.

“You can’t understand,” Erasmus said before taking the offered wine and draining it. Andrea watched her lover’s eyes flood with a deep purple. Then the rest of Erasmus’s body rose and seamlessly joined the dance.

The bearded man walked towards Andrea, and again the dancers parted for him. Andrea tried to find Erasmus’ face, but it was lost in the tide of bodies. Then her eyes found those of the bearded man, and saw something new and terrible. In a shuddering moment, Andrea realized that she did not look into mortal eyes.

“I am saddened by your reluctance,” Dionysus said disapprovingly. “I will let you leave here – but first, let me show you the truth.”

Andrea tried to scramble and crawl away, but was thrown back towards the god, repelled by the dancers. She felt Dionysus’ hand on her neck before a jolt of pain made everything dark.

There was darkness for some matter of time. Then Andrea saw a single pinprick of light. She felt that she could walk towards it, and did so. It slowly got bigger.

This can’t be death. Andrea thought to herself, panicked. There is no River Styx to bear me to the underworld…

The light was soon taking definition. A pair of arms and legs sprouted from the image, as well as a head.

This can’t be death. Andrea attempted to reassure herself, her pulse hard enough to hurt. There are no other souls around me.

If it had been human, the light would have started to show features at this size. It remained perfectly smooth, with no hair, no face, hands that had no fingers…

This can’t be death. Andrea cried internally, her voice not coming forward. Her heart was more than in her ears, it seemed to shake her entire body. Where are the judges to bear me to the afterlife?

The light now reached its deformed hands to Andrea, who couldn’t stop approaching it. Silently fingers sprouted from the stumps, and the light seemed ready to embrace her. As Andrea came within a few steps of the light, she became aware of a burning pain from where she faced it. She wanted to stop walking towards the thing, whatever it was, and the unbearable heat that it radiated.

This can’t be death. Andrea whimpered. I don’t want to die.

She felt a strong hand on her shoulder and was pulled backwards. The light faded and became distant again, before it disappeared.

Andrea gasped in shock as she was suddenly placed back in her mortal body. Her neck ached with pain, but she was alive. Dionysus was looking down at her, the god’s hair wilder than before and with horns curled across his ears.

“Now you know the truth,” Dionysus said, and he was right. Deep in Andrea’s mind, she had realized something; that she really had been dead, and that what she had seen was the afterlife that awaited her. A wave of fresh, existential agony wracked through her as she realized that nothing she thought she knew of death was true. The confidence that her faith had given her was shattered, and tears rolled from her eyes for the dream she had lost.

“Would you like to forget it now?” Dionysus asked her, cup of wine in hand. Andrea scrambled to her feet, desperate to get away from whatever approached her.

“What are you?” Andrea asked, traumatized by the experience and furious at the thing which had sparked it.

“You must know that I am Dionysus,” came the reply. “Though I am not something you could truly call a god.”

“How do I get out of here?!” Andrea shouted back. She was too scattered to think, too broken by the lifted ignorance.

“If you so desire, just walk away,” Dionysus said. “But you won’t forget what you saw here. The truth will be with you in every step. The truth will haunt you until you age and die, and perhaps it will follow you longer.”

He was right, of course. Andrea closed her eyes and despaired. The thing of light was burned behind her eyelids, bright as ever.

“Can you live like that?” Dionysus asked cruelly. “Or will you join me?”

“Please…” Andrea muttered, collapsing. “Let me forget.”

Dionysus smiled and appeared next to Andrea. He propped the cup of wine to the broken woman’s lips. Andrea hesitated again, looking into the maelstrom of dancers. There she saw no dread, no terror… she saw a fearless, painless eternity promised in the deep purple of the Meanid’s gaze. She took the cup and drank deeply, eager to close her mortal eyes.