Misc.

Sunsets

Tullius stood on the hill and felt the warmth of the sun wash over his back. He let it caress him and kiss his skin, soaking up the affection, lost in the languid sleepiness of the summer afternoon. 

At the bottom of the hill was a lake, delightfully blue and temptingly inviting. Some of Tullius' friend's were already in the water, diving and splashing the summer heat away. One of them waved Tullius over, calling for him to come join them. The boy smiled, and ran down the hill, attacking them all with a cannonball like jump into the water. 

-

They walked home in bare feet with towels draped over their necks and shoulders. Half of the boys were still full of energy, running and jumping on each other, screaming and laughing. Tullius said nothing, deep in through. His head was pointed to the sky, and his eyes were closed. Once more, his friends snapped him out of his daze.

"Hey Tullius, wake up man, what are you doing? We're gonna go get drinks you wanna come?"

"I think I'm going to challenge the sun." he replied, a small fire suddenly ablaze in his eyes. It was the first thing he'd said all afternoon, and it caused the group of boys to stop for a minute. 

"What." one of the kids asked.

"I'm going to challenge Apollo." 

Everyone looked at him for a second before bursting into laughter, cackling and howling, playfully shoving Tullius and writing the statement off as a joke. You couldn't challenge the God's, it was practically suicide. Yet, as Tullius walked home, the fire that had sparked in his eyes moments earlier continued to burn softly in the pit of his stomach, a sort of thrilling passion he couldn't quite pinpoint. 

He was going to challenge Apollo to a staring contest. And he was going to win.

-

The next day, Tullius left the house at noon. 

He went and stood out in the garden.

It was a cloudless day, and the sun was already high in the sky.

The boy looked up. 

The fire in his stomach flamed quietly, but steadily and confidently. 

"Hello, Apollo," he said, "I've come for our challenge. May the best man win." 

So it begun, and Tullius stood for hours. He stared Apollo directly in the eye and watched as the burning ball of light and source of life looked right back at him, and for the first time, Tullius felt seen. After some time his feet began to ache, and later his shoulders. The flame in his stomach spread, and after a while his entire body felt like it was on fire. 

The boy did not give up.

In the sky, Apollo observed as the boy remained unrelenting, and the god was transfixed. He was perplexed. Was this devotion? Or pure stupidity? Apollo wasn't sure. 

The boy was burning, but he was beautiful. 

The god wanted to cry, "Stop. Stop this! Stop this now! Your life is more valuable than winning a petty bet. Don't you understand? You're going up against a God, and I don't want to hurt you." but he couldn't. He didn't. Apollo sat in the sky and watched as a young boy stared at him until he couldn't see any longer.

Tullius stared until his legs gave out under him and he collapsed on the ground, shaking, bursting into tears. His body hurt, and his vision was covered in ugly black and grey spots. His tears came out with cries of pain, wretched burns covering his neck and collar, his arms and face. 

Tullius was dragged back inside by his mother until several hours later, Apollo felt loss seep through his bones. He left. The sun remained suspended in the sky, but it wasn't right. It felt dimmer and weaker than it had ever felt before.

The God let the feeling course through his veins, through his body, and let out gut wrenching screams of hatred and pain that echoed off the walls and tiles of the temple. He cried until he couldn't breathe anymore and the beauty in his face was marred by grief and his own self-destruction. 

As night approached, people gathered on hills and high places, mumbling to each other, watching the strange phenomenon occurring before their eyes.

The sun was moving through the sky.

It had never done that before.

As it moved below the horizon and night began to take over, colors appeared everywhere. The sky was no longer blue, it was purple, pink, orange and yellow, hints of crimson and streaks of magenta bled all over the sky like Apollo had cut himself open and let all the ichor in his body mix with the atmosphere and every pigment he could think of in that moment. 

Colour radiated throughout the land and as Apollo, shamefully red, took his leave he hoped- prayed even, that the light was finally beautiful enough to look at.