No Man's Land

Story to be Told

~One~

“Tell us the story again, Hadrian,” said the eight little children that sat on the dirt floor of my small clay house that resides in the middle of the town called Athens.

“Okay,” I replied with a soft chuckle, because of the eager looks on the children's faces, “but, you have to promise to only ask questions when you absolutely need to.”

“Okay!” they shouted cheerfully, eagerly awaiting the story that has been told to them since the day they all met me.

“There once was a city long ago called Dion. This city is located near Mt. Olympus, in northern Greece. This is where I met the girl called Achyls and her master, Petros.”

“Master,” said Achyls quietly not to anger her handsome and cruel master, “where are we going?”

Her master looked at her softly and replied, “We're going to Athens to visit one of my old friends, and Achyls?”

“Yes, Master?”she asked quietly not looking up from the ground underneath her.

“Don't call me Master when we're alone. Just call me Petros, and you don't have to be scared of me.”

“I would never hurt you again and I don't know why I did in the first place.”, he thought, truly questioning himself.

They kept walking till they made it to a small creek that was only a half mile to Athens. They both rested, tired from the three day walk which they had both done with little food and water. Petros had

watched Achyls out of the corner of his eye the entire time. He watched as she struggled to keep up, and he slowed down for her benefit and his misfortune. If he had walked faster they would have been there in two days and a couple hours to spare. He stood from the place which he was once seated moments ago and grabbed his small torn bag, now dirty from the desert and dirty roads. Achyls also rose from where she was once seated and grabbed her small bag also torn and dirty from the journey.

They walked until they reached the great city of Athens; its market place filled with many a people. Petros walked till he was in the middle of the city where he saw a huge crowd filled with many types of people. The people were dirty, dressed only in rags, such as Achyls. Petros towered over most of the city's people, being born of parents whose villages were known for their tallness. In the middle of the crowd stood a young boy around the age of 9 and what looked like his older sister or mother holding his hand.

“Get away from my brother!”screamed the girl dressed in slave clothes. A man in a long white tunic and golden sandals laughed at the girl, finding this so very amusing. She watched the shorter fat man as he walked closer to her while pulling out a silver chain attached to a cuff, big enough to fit around the girl's neck.

“You, a slave, telling me, a high, rich nobleman, what to do. You make me so very amused, so I'll let you off the hook this time,” said the short man. Petros and Achyls watched as the man inched closer to the girl and young boy. The siblings backed away cautiously, awaiting the short man's attack. Achyls watched with sad eyes because she remembered when she was once in this state. So she decided she could not sit and watch fellow slaves go through what she went through so she did what she thought was right.

“Sorry, Master,” she said quietly and ran at the man punching him across the face, causing him to skid across the ground and into the closest house. Achyls was not done, she was just getting started. The man rose from the place he had landed and grabbed onto the wall. He fell to his knees and was