literature

Death Sleep

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It was early in the morning of the first day of April when Hermes came upon his father lying in fitful slumber beneath an old oak tree. The youthful God had been sauntering along the meadows of Mount Olympus, footloose and fancy-free, when his keen eyes caught a golden glimmer beneath the tree.  

Silent as the thief he was, Hermes snuck closer, willing his winged sandals to stop their usual flapping, hoping to find abandoned or lost treasures. Upon reaching the shadow of the tree, he saw instead that the golden glimmer was Zeus' spectacular toga made from rays of sunshine, a gift from Hermes' elder half-brother, Apollo.

"Oh, it's only you, Dad," Hermes said disappointed, dropping to the ground beside the old God. When his father did not reply, Hermes turned to look and was surprised to see that  Zeus was muttering in his sleep about "eyes, so many eyes I cannot sleep" and waving his arms about like a helpless infant.  Zeus' brow was knotted with fear and worry, glistening with sweat despite the cool temperature of the fresh young day.  

“Dad, wake up,” Hermes said, shaking his father by the shoulders. But the old God merely pushed Hermes’ hands away, as he continued moaning about the eyes. Hermes was upset. He had never seen his strong, invincible father that way, caught in the throes of some unspeakable dread. “Poor old Dad,” said Hermes, shedding tears from his heavy-lidded eyes. And then he said, “Wow”.

Hermes was shocked by the extent of his feelings, for the Gods were rarely touched by the small but powerful emotion called sympathy. Passion, anger and lust were the norm, but touched, not so much. Hermes looked at his father again and decided that he wanted to share this new feeling with his family and at the same time, give his father some welcome respite from his dreams. Hermes knew just the thing to do – it was time for an April Fools' joke.

Pulling some soundproof bushes to hide his father, Hermes whispered, "Stay here Dad. I'm going to get something to help you sleep better." Zeus responded by tossing violently from side to side. Hermes nodded. He knew he was doing the right thing.

"Up, up and away, Winged Sandals," Hermes said holding one arm up in the air. In a blink of a Cyclops’ eye, he was in the cave shared by the twins Hypnos and Thánatos, respectively the Gods of Sleep and Death. They were unconscious, of course, and did not get up from their bed of feathers to greet him.  

"Tsk, tsk. A lovely spring day and everyone's still asleep," Hermes said to himself, shaking his head. It suited him just fine though, because he wanted everything to be a surprise.  He made his way to the back of the cave, where there was an opening to a cavern that served as a laboratory. The cavern was well lit, and it didn't take him long to see that it was due to a spherical orb, floating at its centre. It was the size of his head and emitted a pleasantly golden light.  

"More of Apollo's work," Hermes said, inspecting the orb. There were random patterns that oozed its way around the orb, looking like liquid gold. His thieving fingers itched. He wondered if he could get his brother to give him one, if he, Hermes, returned some of the cattle he had stolen as a baby. Hermes thought better of it though, because Apollo was still sore about the incident.

Underneath the orb were plants. Poppies dominated, but there were also a few others like chamomile, kava kava and St. John's Wort. Water trickled from an outcrop in the middle of the hypnagogic garden. Hermes was about to reach for it, feeling thirsty, when he realized it was the origins of Lethe, the River of Forgetfulness. He stepped back quickly, fearful of the spray and tripped on a valerian root. Hermes was known to be light on his feet, so he managed to avoid knocking over a shelf unit full of interesting, multicoloured bottles. He read some of the labels: diphenhydramine, doxylamine, eszopiclone, zalepon, zolpidem, melatonin, tryptophan and an entire series called ‘variations of benzodiazepines’. Yawning, Hermes moved to the work bench.

There was an interesting boxy crystal resting on the table – Atlantean-borrowed technology, Hermes thought – with a screensaver scrolling the words, Book of Sleep, Book of Death, and Book of Dreams. “Really, must they be so obvious?” Hermes said out loud, chuckling as he shook his head. He activated the crystal, and immediately, it started playing a slideshow of erotic dreams, featuring Aphrodite in all her foamy glory.  "Whoa, baby," Hermes said. He made a mental note to call her once this adventure was over.

Shaking his head like the hellhound Cerberus (except Hermes had only one head), he switched off the crystal. He was not here to be distracted. And besides, he knew what was needed without consulting the temptation-ridden crystal, for Hermes had performed Thánatos' duties, once upon a time. Unfortunately, the job as psychopomp had clashed with his messaging service, so much so that he had to complain to Zeus about his workload. Despite being an occasional miser, Zeus had readily agreed to bring in someone new for the soul conductor job, preferring that Hermes concentrated on the messaging. Hermes was more loyal to him than the other messenger, Isis, whose loyalties lay with Zeus’ wife, Hera.

Hermes moved swiftly around the room, harvesting some poppies and a few other plants for the potion he intended to make. Then he went out into the darker cave, peering into corners for certain types of mushrooms. When he was done, he made his way to an open space on the bench, picking up a bottle or two on the way. He tossed the carefully measured ingredients into a mortar, added in some of his own solidified exhalations, and with a pestle, pounded the material into powder. Then he scooped the powder into a long cylindrical glass bottle and poured in a measure of base of Ambrosia. He replaced the cork and shook the bottle vigorously, jumping up and down while he headed for the centrifuge.

The centrifuge, unfortunately, had a label on it that said, "Broken".  Cursing, Hermes thought for a moment. When the answer came to him, he grinned, clicked his winged sandals together and spun a few times on the spot. He looked at the bottle and was quite satisfied that the plant material and powders in it had settled to the bottom, leaving a clear, amber liquid on top. Quickly, he transferred the liquid into another bottle, tossed the remnants and made his way back to Zeus, praying to the Great God himself that he hadn't already woken up.

Ironically, Zeus must have answered his prayers, because he was still there, tossing and turning in disturbed sleep. Hermes glanced at the oak tree to see if there were any tree nymphs watching them, but as he suspected, there were none. Zeus was well known for favouring oak, so the nymphs avoided it. They wanted nothing to do with Zeus, after all the sometimes fatal drama with Hera.

Squeezing through the bushes, he grabbed Zeus' chin and poured the liquid from the bottle into the old man's throat. The elder God struggled for a moment, but then, he lay still. There, the deed is done, thought Hermes. The first step in his little joke was over, now for the next.

"Zeus is dead," he exclaimed loudly. "Long live Zeus."

Sobbing realistic tears, Hermes arranged Zeus artfully with one arm over his face, as though he was a lonely young shepherd resting from the heat of the day, dreaming about fluffy sheep and cute shepherdesses. Taking a deep breath, Hermes flew off to face all the deities – major and minor – in the Greek Pantheon, announcing his message of Death and sorrow. At every brief stop, he gave the barest details of what had happened (Zeus is dead) and instructions to the location of the body (under the oak tree at the East Quadrant). And then he moved on to the next.

He avoided his uncles, Hades of the Underworld and Poseidon of the Sea, and their dominion. The presence of Hades would spoil the joke for everyone, because Hades would know the truth about Zeus. And Poseidon was just a really smart old God. And telling inhabitants of the Underworld and the Sea would just tip off the old coots.

By the time he returned to the oak tree, a large crowd had gathered. There was much sobbing and wailing, together with gnashing of teeth and rending of garments; not all the emotions authentic. Most of the Gods Hermes had summoned were there, as well as nymphs and other creatures of the land. The nymphs had bid flowers to grow around the body of the Great God, perfuming the air and lending an odd sort of artificialness to the ‘wake’. Nice party atmosphere, Hermes thought.

As Hermes made his way through the crowd, a great buffed, naked and tanned torso blocked his path. There were numerous tattoos on the body, animated ones, showing men with spears spearing each other, men in the process of ripping apart flesh with guns and men in arm to arm fights to the death. There were also explosions galore in various stages of commencement all around the body. Hermes was particularly fascinated by the mushroom cloud billowing in sickly colours on the chest area.

"Hi, Ares," Hermes said, annoyed at the squeak in his voice. He cleared his throat, and, trying to increase his confidence, thought about Ares' first tattoo, a somewhat comical doodle of two men bonking each other on the head with sticks. "Nice nuclear war on your chest. Is it new?"

"How," boomed Ares the God of War, ignoring the compliment and question, "did this happen?"

"How did what happen?" Hermes replied to his half-brother. "Oh, you mean Dad? Beats me."

"On second thought, don't," he said, backing away. Ares tended to take things quite literally sometimes. "Look, I just saw his body lying there, and he had no pulse and all that, so I took off and called everyone."

"But we're Gods. He's a God," shouted Ares, pointing out the obvious. "We can't die!" Ares reached for Hermes, intending to shake him.

"Hey, don't shoot the messenger," Hermes said, dancing away and pouting. "I don't know what happened. Maybe Apollo could shed some light on it." Hermes giggled at the pun. Apollo, the God of Sun and Light, was the most medically inclined member of the family.

Ares' face turned black, completely skipping the purple stage that was his norm. Hermes backed away once more, holding his arm up in a placating gesture. "Hey, back off. I'm upset, ok," he lied. "When I'm upset, I make stupid jokes." The latter wasn’t a lie.

Hermes craned his neck to the left, trying to get a glimpse of Zeus' body. "Where is Apollo anyway?" He was hoping his sunny half-brother would show up quickly to declare their father dead. It was all part of the joke.

"I'm here," Apollo said loudly into Hermes' ear. Hermes jumped. People, and Gods, don't usually get to sneak up upon him. Sneaking was his thing.

"Gotcha," Apollo said into Hermes' ear. Out loud, he said gravely, "Come; let us see what has happened to dear old Dad." They marched to the centre of the Olympian family reunion, Apollo and Ares side by side, and Hermes trailing along.

"Say, who's riding the Chariot?" Ares asked Apollo. He was referring to the Sun that Apollo was famous for riding.

"I am," Apollo said.

"Huh?"

"I can control it from a distance," Apollo said, curtly, not willing to show all his cards, least of all to Ares, who often sounded more curious and stupid than he was.

"So why don't you do it all the time?" Ares asked, genuinely curious.

"Limitations of distance," Apollo said grudgingly. "Right now, the Chariot is almost overhead, so I'm still within my range, but I'd have to leave soon."

The Chariot is almost overhead...? Hermes thought in alarm. Time flew more quickly than he had thought. He looked up, but it wasn't quite high noon yet. He needed Apollo to declare their father as a goner before it hit noon, because after that, the joke was dead, so to speak. "We better hurry then," Hermes said out loud, dragging Apollo with him, "I wouldn't want your Chariot to crash and burn."

Apollo snorted, but he let Hermes lead him to their father’s body. Ares turned to comfort his mother, Hera. Hermes thought he should offer condolences, but he changed his mind and stayed far away from his step-mother. She hadn't forgiven him yet for killing her pet, Argie. Well, get over it Step-mommy, Zeus made me do it, Hermes thought.

Kneeling by his father, Apollo did the usual thing, checking his pulse, looking into the cold dead eyes of the God – they're always cold and dead anyway, Hermes thought – and a whole host of other medical-like things. Hermes was not paying attention. He was watching the sky.

All around them, the Greek Pantheon moaned, groaned and cried; some with real tears, some with crocodile. But all of them were alarmed. If this could happen to Zeus the Great, what then of the others? Hermes hoped that they'd assume Hades wasn't there because he was attending to Zeus in the Afterlife. Actually, thought Hermes, what does happen to Gods if and when they die?

Before he could form an answer in his head, Apollo stood up, saying "Zeus is truly dead. Long live Zeus." He bent his head in silent prayer. The others followed suit. And the meadow was still. Even the grass and the birds and the zephyrs were mourning in peace. And then, Apollo looked up and gave a great soul-rending, ear-splitting scream, while his Chariot went supernova in empathy.

The bright light blinded everyone present, those with eyes anyway. And loud explosion and scream caused great discomfort to many. Hermes covered his head with his arm and went into a protective crouch. Wow, he thought. This is going better than I thought. Trust Apollo to come with fireworks.

When it was over, Hermes straightened and blinked rapidly. When he could see again, he noticed that most of the assembly were walking away. Apollo was nowhere in sight. Hermes looked up. It was past noon.

His head whipped to where Zeus still lay, unmoving, cold, and dead-like. Impossible, Hermes thought to himself. But I measured the Sleep-as-the-Dead-Would potion so well and timed it just right. What's going on? A chill ran down his spine.

The potion he had given Zeus was known to help the receiver sleep so soundly that his body needn’t to work to keep him alive. To all observers, the body would seem dead and soulless. After a few hours, depending on the dose, the receiver would wake up, fresher than mint, and feeling more alive than he normally would. Hermes had measured out the ingredients carefully so that Zeus would wake up at noon (after all, an April Fools' joke played after twelve o’clock usually backfires on the perpetrator).

Zeus was supposed to wake up at noon. And that's when Hermes had planning on shouting "April Fools" to all and sundry. But everyone was gone. And so was... Zeus?

But Zeus was supposed to wake up at noon!

Hermes sank into a crouch, holding his head in his hands. He just kept repeating that statement in his head. He couldn't understand what had happened. Had he killed his own father?

He heard footsteps behind him. Hermes looked up with a genuinely tear-stained face. It was Hera. For once, her stern pinched countenance was gentle and glistening with tears. She patted Hermes on his arm, and saying nothing, allowed Ares to lead her away.

Hermes thought to himself, Hera's going to find out. And then, they're going to kill me good, roast me over a spit and eat me. Or maybe they won’t kill me, but roast me over the spit anyway. And they’re going to do it again and again and again, for the rest of my immortality.

I'm so screwed. There's no way this could stay secret. Once Hypnos and Thanatos wakes up, whenever that is, they'd know what I've done. They'd tell Hades. Or maybe Zeus is talking to Hades right now!

O boyoboyoboyoboy


And so, Hermes sat there, rocking on his heels, his brain in a blender. He knew he should run, but he didn't know where to go, to hide, to become the hated one forever and ever and then some.

He kept going through the formula. He should have checked it in the crystal. He must have done something wrong. Maybe it was the wrong amount of poppies. Maybe it was the wrong species of mushrooms. Or the wrong type of benzodiazepine. Or maybe he added the wrong ratio of the base of Ambrosia. Or maybe his spin speed was wrong. Maybe, maybe, maybe...

Hermes stared at his father's still and peaceful features, as he contemplated his own, probably violent, future. The joke's on me, he thought sadly. April Fool. April Fool. April. Fool.

He threw himself over Zeus' body and sobbed as the sun set in the horizon.



Epilogue:

In a golden palace at the end of the world, Apollo sat in his courtyard with a guest. They were having a BBQ.

"Sooooo," Apollo said to his bearded guest. "How long are you going to torture him?"

Zeus raised his bushy eyebrows as he roasted the meat over the fire. "Torture him? I don't know what you speak of, Son."

"Hermes," Apollo said, rolling his eyes. "How long are you going to let him think that you're dead?"

"Oh, him," Zeus said, picking at the chicken and chewing thoughtfully. "I don't know. Forever sounds good."

"Dad," Apollo said reproachfully.

Zeus sighed. "But I suppose I've got to go back to duties and all that."

They sat in silence as they observed the pond nearby. Instead of a reflection of the moon, it showed Hermes sobbing quietly as he embraced his 'dead' father's body in a moonlit meadow.

"I thought you were angry at your brother still," Zeus inquired casually. He stabbed some marshmallows with a stick and stuck it into the fire.

Apollo picked up his lyre and strummed gently on it. "You mean angry because he stole my cattle? He was a baby then. Besides, after I've calmed down a bit, I thought it was rather funny; the way he snuck out and back in again without his mother knowing.

"And we've crossed paths at work too. Despite his pranks, he's still a good protector of shepherds and such. And because he does his job well, he makes it easy for me in my job as patron defender of the herds. I appreciate that.

"And he makes a mean lyre," Apollo said, strumming wildly on his lyre.

Zeus sat back thoughtfully, nibbling on the marshmallows. "He is a well-meaning lad. And it is good for him that I like him too. Otherwise he'd be begging me for death by now. So what exactly happened? How did you know what he had done?"

"Aren't you the All-Seeing?" Apollo asked playfully. Zeus growled softly. The Sleep-as-the-Dead-Would potion had closed his Eyes. He'd have to have a talk with Hypnos and Thánatos when they woke up, whenever that happened.

Apollo held his hands up in surrender. He too, sat back, strumming quietly on his lyre. "I've known about it for awhile now. You know that my Oracle powers can only be summoned if the right question is asked; otherwise I'd be All-Seeing like you. Well, a few months ago, somebody asked if Zeus could ever be killed. And then I knew." Apollo paused. There was a whole lot more to the answer, but that was a story for another time. Zeus nodded. He understood.

Apollo continued, "When I saw Hermes flitting around in frenzy, I figured that it was time. I had Ares delay Hermes when he arrived at the 'wake'. Meanwhile, I moved my chariot faster and faster to noon, within limitations, of course. I can't do too much of that, else there would be severe consequences.

“By the time I reached you to examine you, it was actually past noon, so you had awakened just as Hermes had expected you to. And that's when I told you to keep still and play dead. And, fearing that he’d notice my chariot was at the wrong place, I quickly announced that you were dead.”

"Bowing your head in prayer was a nice touch. Everyone would do the same thing and keep their heads down," Zeus said approvingly.

Apollo nodded. "After that, it was just a matter of getting your Essence to leave your bodily shell. The supernova served as the ultimate distraction. But I had to do that anyway, to reset the Sun’s movement in the sky. And then I brought you here. End of story."

Zeus lay down. After a moment, Apollo did the same. They both watched the stars. Zeus broke the silence, "I rather like being dead."

"Don't take this the wrong way, Dad, but I really like my privacy," Apollo said.

"In other words, don't stay too long?" Zeus said, with humour in his voice. He gave a huge sigh. “Fine; I’ll give your darling little brother a break. When you take the Sun out tomorrow, I'll wake up miraculously hale and hearty, and not the least bit dead. Maybe I’ll scare him good.”

"He's not my dar... Oh, I see, you're teasing me," Apollo said sourly. "Waking up is a good idea." He picked up the lyre again and sang a ballad about a boy who killed his father and was so remorseful that Hades sent the father back to fulfil his parental duties, but the father couldn’t stand the sight of his son, so he killed himself in order to escape.

When Apollo strummed the last chord, Zeus said, "Or maybe, I'll leave a fake will lying around, and name him as beneficiary to the Big Boss position. So Flyboy gets stuck behind a desk and gets to deal with Hera, or your uncles, or mortals all day long. I’d love to see that."

"Dad!"

Zeus chortled. Ah, but spring in April was a wonderful time to be dead.
3,766 words (Pat yourself on the back if you finished it!)

This story was written for :iconsimplyprose:’s April Scenario Prompt: An April Fools’ joke goes badly wrong!

I had initially planned to write a story set in Malaysian settings, but everything went wrong. After many rewrites, I shelved that idea for another time and wrote this one, which glided to me easier than a banana soy smoothie down my throat.

Essentially, it’s set in the same world (Greek-verse?) that I wrote about in my previous story Moira’s Fate, which was also a *simplyprose prompt. I think maybe I should revisit this world more often. All the characters and plots just fell into place. If anything, I should do it as a confidence booster.

Hermes was chosen as the main character because he’s the Loki of the Greek Pantheon. But perhaps he’s not as singularly destructive as Loki, however. And he also made interesting children with Aphrodite. Zeus is quite obvious. Why did I bring in Apollo? Well, I needed a character that would shed light on Hermes’ behaviour and prank, allowing the joke to backfire in his face. Enough with the puns already!

I introduced many incidental characters in this story, but every one of them had a small part to play. I did my best not to leave any of them hanging – even characters need closure. And some, like Aphrodite, Hypnos and Hera, may have left you asking why I put them there. I figure that Hermes grew up with a whole lot of meddling relatives, and in many ways, a lot of what he is had to do with his interaction with them too. Greek God personalities were extrapolated from their actions and attributes, or vice versa, so marching in all the relatives he had issues with seemed like an interesting proposition.

But in the end, it was not so much a character-driven story, but a plot-driven one, and I guess I subconsciously drew into my usual theme of “accidental murder”. I wonder if I also inadvertently dug into my fear of lab experiments going awry. Forgive me if I delved too deeply into the methods by which Hermes put together the potion. I must have been drawing from memories of my laboratory days, when I had to extract all kinds of sub-cellular materials. I was entertaining myself. Hermes’ self-recriminations after Zeus did not awake was quite a familiar feeling too, although, fear not, I was not allowed near living people!

Much of the basic attributes of the characters were based on Greek myths, of course. And I have to state that my source material is Wikipedia. My other reference material I left in Canada! I claim artistic license too, so I probably changed some things for clarity, or picked a certain side when the experts cannot agree. Plus, some of the more obscure references were more interesting, although, probably not accurate in terms of information.

I can’t think of anything more to say, except that this was a really nice Chariot ride. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing.


Just for fun
Solidified exhalations = dry ice = solid carbon dioxide
Base of Ambrosia = ethanol
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simplyprose's avatar
:star::star::star::star: Overall
:star::star::star::star::star-empty: Vision
:star::star::star::star::star: Originality
:star::star::star::star::star-half: Technique
:star::star::star::star-half::star-empty: Impact

Well done; Hermes was an ideal god for the choice of an April Fools theme--especially with the addition of a backfiring element. <img src="e.deviantart.com/emoticons/b/b…" width="15" height="15" alt=":D" title=":D (Big Grin)" />

I like the colloquial attitude towards the setting, but it seems stuck in between--like you're going for the epic feel, but trying to write it casually. There should be a little more irreverence in this; maybe the long descriptions of things like the contents of the cavern could be made short (although I did really like the fact that it was in the style of a lab!). The expose in the epilogue doesn't seem completely necessary--perhaps this would work better if we were told how things turn out for Hermes instead of being given all the possibilities.

This was completely funny, though. I don't know how much of a background in myth one needs to appreciate this--you seem to have explained everything pretty clearly; I hope you keep playing around with these figures.