A Slaved Centaur

I clamped my ears shut. The banging beyond the door continued to penetrate my ears, no

matter how hard I tried to shut them. I put more pressure on them, but the hammering

sounds were relentless. The piercing moans and shouts assaulted my mind, creating vivid

images of what might be happening outside.

Suddenly, a loud scream rattled the house. Mother.

I opened my eyes, and my hands lost their grip. I stared at the light under the door with

fear. My heart felt lighter. The dark room I was trapped in didn’t provide much comfort.

Instead, I felt like I was choking. I wanted to get out.

Stay inside and don’t come till I tell you. My sister’s voice spoke in my mind and I backed up.

She told me not to come out, that’s what I was supposed to do. I never listened to her, but

this time, I did.

I sat on the edge of my bed and listened. And listened. The groans, the bangs, the crashes. I

jumped when the loudest smash was heard. Pulling up my legs close to my chest, I started

to shiver.

I glanced at the window, out to the woods that spread around the house like a swarm of

bees. Shivers troubled my body as I stared at the dark trees. The olive green leaves of the

day had turned into dark pastel in the night. There were no stars, no moon, just silent noise

of the crickets.

Crickets were my favourite kinds of insects. They made fascinating sounds. I have ventured

into the forest many times, chasing the sounds aimlessly. Even at nights, when I was not

allowed to step outside, I spent hours listening to them, even humming to their sounds. They

made me feel satisfied and fulfilled. Sometimes they were full of sadness and other times

joyous. Crickets were so expressive. I never understood why more people didn’t like them.

Those sounds got me lost, and those sounds guided me back home.

I stopped shivering and got up from my bed and walked towards the window. I could hear the

crickets, but not clearly. The sounds of violence behind the door of my room dampened

them. I pressed my hands against the glass.

My eyes drifted off to the trees.

That’s where he came from, I thought.

Staring deep into the woods, and feeling like it was staring right back at me, I suddenly

realised that I could not hear them. The crickets, they were gone. And so were all other

sounds in the house. Deafening silence wrapped around my ears.

The temperature seemed to drop by a couple degrees. I hugged myself and turned around.

The door was still closed, light peaked out from under it. I stared right at the light.

Two heartbeats later, a shadow passed. The thumping of hoofs on the floor outside was

clear. I didn’t understand what was happening. The screams, shouts, everything was gone

and now there was a horse outside my door? Was I dreaming?

I was curious, and scared too, so I ducked down and tried to look under the door. There was

only the black wooden floor and dark yellow light that I could see.

Suddenly, a hoof appeared in front of me. A bang on the door startled me and I jumped

back.

“Open the door.” The heavy and ragged voice said. I gasped. A human voice. It was a

monster. I had seen a lot of books filled with monsters who sounded like humans.

I turned around and ran for the window. In my haste, I stumbled and nearly fell but was able

to reach it. The monster outside banged on the door harder.

“I heard you,” he said. “Open up.”

Like the dumb kid I was, I answered. “I am not going to!”

I opened the window and tried to crawl through it.

“Do you really want to go into the forest from where I came from?” The monster said, and I

stopped.

“Open the door.” The monster repeated.

“No.” I wanted to sound bold but my voice came out squeaky and small, much more like a

whimper. “What did you do to my mother? My sister?”

There was a pause. I waited for the monster, but he remained silent. I stepped towards the

window carefully. The wood under my feet didn’t make much noise.

“I killed them.” The monster outside spoke in a small voice. “But that’s because I want to

keep you safe.”

“What…?” This time, I could only manage a small whisper. I saw my entire world getting

crushed.

“You’re lying.” My voice cracked. I balled my fists to stop my entire body from trembling. I

wanted to drop down and cry my eyes out. This couldn’t be happening. The monster must be

lying.

“I am not.” The monster spoke in a sombre tone, as if he himself regretted what he had

done.

The screams of my mother and sister rang in my ears and I shut my eyes. Misery filled my

heart and tarnished it. It kept on filling it as the waves of sorrow washed over me. When my

heart overflowed, the misery gushed out of me as tears. My legs went numb, and I dropped

down.

“Are you okay in there?” His voice barely entered my numb ears.

The monster proceeded to bang on the door. The hinges were new, but the constant

badgering was wearing their strength down.

This isn’t a time to mourn, a voice said inside of me.

I got up and turned back to the window.

“Trust me, kid,” said the monster beyond the door. “Open the door and let me in.”

He was oblivious to what I was doing, which benefited me. I opened the window and climbed

out. A gust of wind blew. The sound of the window slamming shut alerted the monster, and

he assaulted the door.

I was out on the roof, now I just needed to get away. The wind was sharp, dust getting in my

eyes. It stung. I could barely keep them open, which made it hard to see. The roof was

slanting, and I was not sure if I could walk on it. I had to get away from the window.

Behind me, I heard the door to my bedroom give way. Terrified, I ran on the tiles of the roof

of my house. I didn’t care if they cracked under my feet. I had to escape.

The window to my room opened, and I looked back in panic. Before I could get a good look

at the monster, I slipped and fell off the roof.

I was in pain, lots of it. Nausea took over my mind as I saw yellow spots across my vision.

My senses were shot. I tasted blood in my mouth. My ankle flared up with pain. I pressed

down on it with my hand, keeping it as steady as possible.

My chest heaved. I took deep breaths. Looking around, I was able to see that I was just

outside the front door, the light from the house illuminating me. I looked back and inside the

house I saw a bloody trail.

Then came the sound of the hoofs. I made the mistake of trying to move. I jerked my leg and

stabbing pain flowed through my body.

“Ow!” I wailed. A shadow covered me as the monster appeared behind me.

I slowly looked back and gasped. The monster was a man. Except from the waist down, it

was a brown stallion. The man’s chest was copper coloured, broad and rugged. He wore a

leather mask, shaped like a spartan helmet. Under the mask, the eyes glowed emerald. His

scruffy and curly beard peaked from under the mask. He stared deep into my eyes, those

emerald orbs seething into mine, looking into my soul. Across his waist, where his human

part met the horse’s legs, a leather strap held a sword.

A shiver went down my spine. The hilt of the sword was slick and dark. Blood.

The horse-man knelt next to me. I tried to shuffle away, but he held my leg.

“Stay still,” he said. “I am no healer, but I can look at the injury.”

I was terribly shaking by this point. Tears welled up in my eyes. The horse-man ignored me

and hovered his hand over my ankle. He proceeded to dab it as I winced.

“Twisted ankle.” He said. “Not broken, though.”

He looked at me with a hardened expression. “Don’t worry, kid. It will be okay. I’ll carry you

through the forest.”

Getting my grip on reality again, I pushed the horse-man away. “I won’t go with you. Besides,

why do you want to take me to the forest? Don’t you want to kill me?”

“Kill you?” He looked mortified by the thought. “I won’t kill you. He sent here me to protect

you.”

“You didn’t protect me. You killed my entire family.”

The horse-man reached out for my head. I tried to get away, but it was futile. He grabbed me

by the throat as I struggled and pressed his palm against my head. Warmth spread across

my head and penetrated my body. The knots in my chest untied themselves and I felt more

at ease than ever before.

When he took his palm off, I blinked and looked around, wondering how I got there.

“Where am I?” I looked at the horse-man in front of me and asked. “Who are you? Where

are my parents?”

“They are gone.” The masked monster replied. “I had to get them to safety.”

“Why did you do that?” I frowned.

“The only reason I did that was because I was ordered to. I just carried out my duty.”

“And you were also ordered to get me, I am guessing.”

“Yes.” He said. “Now come on, let’s not keep your father waiting.”

“My father? You mean dad?”

The monster nodded. “He gave the order himself.”

“How does my father know a horse-man?” I wondered aloud.

“Horse-man?” The monster laughed. “My kind has a name, you know. I am a centaur.”

“A centaur.” I mumbled. “And what is your actual name?”

The centaur bowed his head down and looked at the ground under his hoofs.

“I am a slave.” He said. “Slaves don’t have names.”

“That’s not true. Everyone has names.” I said.

“Not me.” He still didn’t meet my eyes.

“What does dad call you?”

“He just says, “my friend”.”

“If he calls you his friend, then why do you think you are a slave?” I asked, then bit back my

tongue. The man didn’t have a name. Of course he would think of himself as a slave.

“Let’s give you a name, then.” I said.

The centaur lifted his head up. His eyes gleaming with certain buried joy. “Really?”

“Sure.” I smiled at him. “What do you want to be called?”

The centaur’s eyes drifted to the forest and stayed there. He seemed to get lost. His eyes

became misty as time passed.

“Vrontas.” He spoke. “I always liked that name, for some reason.”

“That’s good.” I smiled and Vrontas tried for a smile as well.

“Now come on, your father is waiting.” He tried to help me up, but I resisted.

“No.” I said firmly. “First show me what is under that mask.”

Vrontas tapped his hoofs on the ground. “I don’t think so I should.”

“Why not?” I asked.

Vrontas turned his head away.

“Nothing. I just think I shouldn’t.”

“Then you think wrong, Vrontas.”

Vrontas hesitated. I thought he was going to relent, but he didn’t.

“We should get going.”

“No.” I repeated. “We are not going until you show me what is under that mask of yours.”

“There is no time for that, kid.”

“Are you disobeying your master’s son?” I asked.

Vrontas flinched. I felt bad for putting him in that position, forcing him to do something I knew

he was uncomfortable with, but my curiosity knew no bounds. I wanted to know so badly

what was under that mask. If I could, I would just rip it off his face.

“I can’t show you my face.” Vrontas lowered his head and voice. “Because I am ugly.”

“Oh.” I said. I didn’t know how to respond to that. “You saw yourself in the mirror?” I asked.

Vrontas shook his head. “I never did. My friends and parents told me I am ugly.”

“If you haven’t seen yourself, how do you know your friends aren’t lying?”

Vrontas shifted in his place.

“Everyone I meet keeps saying that I am ugly. So I must be.”

“And I am saying there is a beautiful face under the mask. Remove it.”

Reluctantly, Vrontas reached behind him and pulled at the leather cords at the back of his

head. The mask loosened, or it seemed. While removing the leader mask, Vrontas winced in

pain. The mask was stuck to his face and removing it looked like he was peeling off his skin.

Under the mask, instead of coppery, was pale white skin. Patches of leather from his mask

still stuck to his face, like pebbles in white sand. His eyebrows were chaotic to look at. Some

hairs were ripped off along with the mask itself. His nose, which showed the signs of being

pointed, now was just flattened against the face.

“How do I look?” Vrontas asked me.

“You look… different.” I said, genuinely intrigued by his appearance.

“What is that supposed to mean?” He frowned at me.

I didn’t answer. Because didn’t know what to answer. I was trying to figure out his

appearance. It was different. Not good or bad, but unique.

“I’ll see for myself.” Vrontas pulled out his sword from the sheath. He shone the blade under

the light coming from the house and looked at himself.

In an instant, he dropped his blade and covered his face with his hands. He dropped to his

knees and started crying.

“Oh, what has become of me?” He sobbed. “I am so pale, I have patches of leather stuck to

my skin. Oh, what have I done!”

I tried to reach him, but my ankle hurt.

“I wore the mask for all my life because everyone told me I was ugly. Now, I am uglier.”

Listening to Vrontas’s words, a saying that I had heard came to my mind. If you treat a man

like a monster, he eventually becomes one.

“It’s not true.” I said in an instant. “You’re not ugly, Vrontas.”

“But I am,” he said, breaking down.

“Stop crying.” I crawled as slow as possible and kept my hand on Vrontas. “Compose

yourself, Vrontas. You’re not ugly.”

“Why do you think that?” Vrontas asked me.

“Tell me, am I ugly?” I didn’t answer him directly.

“No.” He said. “you’re a good-looking boy.”

I crawled over to the sword. The silver reflected off the bright light. It looked freshly washed.

“Vrontas, look in the blade.” I ordered him and he obeyed.

“Look at me, do you still say I am good looking?” I asked him. The image that blade showed

was crooked. Its spine wasn’t flat, but instead raised, and even though it was as reflective as

glass, the faces in the blade were totally misshapen.

“No,” he whispered.

“See? The problem is not in you. We see what the mirrors and eyes show us. The people

who have said you are ugly, their eyes are distorted.”

Vrontas didn’t take his eyes off the blade, probably wondering if I was right.

“I guess you are right.” He muttered.

“I am.” I insisted. “I didn’t say you were ugly. I said you were different. You stand out from the

rest.”

“Only the disabled stand out from the perfectly abled.” He said.

“No, the revolutionaries and leaders stand out from others.” I countered.

Finally, Vrontas smiled.

“You say very sweet words for a small kid.” Vrontas said to me. He was relieved, I could see

in his eyes.

I shared a smile with him.

“We should get going.” Vrontas’s eyes drifted to the woods again, as if he had caught the

scent of danger.

*Agreed.” I nodded. “Only if you promise to not hide yourself ever.”

Vrontas laughed and said, “Promise.”

On that note, with a little help, I hopped on to the centaur’s back and we ran into the forest. It

was dark and noiseless. My heart pounded against my chest. Vrontas galloped through the

woods at full speed. With every leap he took, I bounced on his back. Feeling weightlessness

for a microsecond, I felt my heart dip. The wind brushed past my face, and it was getting

harder and harder to keep my eyes open. Despite that, I loved the feeling of the wind against

my face. Riding on Vrontas’s back felt liberating. I felt like I could do anything, that I had the

power to do anything. No one could stop me, no one could catch me.

Relaxation filled my body. I felt my bones and muscles getting rejuvenated, filled with a

mysterious power. We jumped over a log, ducked under a low-hanging branch and made

tricky manoeuvres through the thicket of trees.

The forest was alive with the sounds of hoofs against the ground.

In the distance, a white figure emerged from behind the tree and slowly, Vrontas came to a

halt.

“Dad?” Seeing him put a wide smile on my face. After what had happened in the night, I

wanted to never leave my father’s side.

I tried to get down, but he raised his hand and said, “Not now, kiddo.”

He turned to Vrontas and said, “and others?”

“I did what you told me, master.” He said.

Dad nodded. “Good, I knew I could count on you, my servant.”

I frowned and Vrontas shuffled in his place. Something was wrong.

“Master—”

“Give me your sword, centaur.” Dad held out his hand.

Vrontas did nothing. He was frozen.

“Didn’t I make myself clear enough for your thick skull?” He asked.

Hesitantly, Vrontas unsheathed his sword and handed it to my dad.

“Did you purge the blood?” Dad asked as he examined the blade.

Vrontas nodded.

“And are they all dead?”

My eyes widened with horror.

“Yes, master.” Vrontas said.

“What…?” I tried to piece together what they were saying, but it was too late.

“That’s not true. The son and the slave still remain.” Dad said. The next thing I knew, he

drove the blade through Vrontas’s chest and into mine.

In my last moments, I saw my father’s appearance and voice change into a woman’s.

“I fixed that.” The woman giggled as I plunged into eternal darkness.