Talia’s feet padded on the smooth
marble as she moved down the hallway. Thud,
thud, thud went the rhythmic sound as she took each step. She could not be
caught, if one of the slaves, or even worse her mother, found her she would be
sent right back to the living room to sew or to the kitchen to attempt to
create something palatable. Yet today was different, today she needed to get
outside, so Talia set her sights on the heavy wood door and the end of the hall
and continued on her way. When she got to then end she took a small breath and
sighed with relief and with great strain not to make a single peep she slid
behind the door like a shadow. Then like taunt rubber band being sprung, she
was of, she ran weaving though the olive. It belonged to her father, a respected
citizen it Athens, and along with the respect of her father there came the
expectations of his family. These expectations were ones that Talia disagreed
strongly with. Of course she would never voice these thoughts, but if society
thought that at her mere 12 years of age she would want to already spend all
her time sewing and cooking and then in a few years get married? Then society
was wrong. The fire in her chest had been ignited, along with the dull ache of
her legs, but Talia pushed through. As girl if she wanted to do something that
only men were allowed to do she had to be better than the best. Finally though,
she could go no more, the fire had become a full blown inferno and engulfed her
body and Talia slumped down next to a big Sycamore that had grown up, as if it
had been trying to reach Mt.Olympus to talk to the gods. She looked at the sun,
trying to deduce the time and thinking back to what her father had told her,
but was it East or West? North or South? She shook her head, erasing over,
unimportant thoughts from her head. She needed all her focus on one thing today,
one very important thing. The Olympic Games were a great celebration and
everyone enjoyed them… well, everyone who could go. Anger bubbled inside of
Talia, right near the pit of her stomach, she knew it was bothersome, but it
was true, being a girl she couldn’t watch or, god forbid, compete in the Games.
Yet she knew what she wanted and she had to come up with a plan. She got up to
quickly from her sitting position and felt a brief moment of dizziness, taking
a step back to regain her balance and then sprinting off again, back to the
house. When she was back in the house, the sun had flooded into the whole
foyer. Stealthily, on the tips of her toes, she snuck into her father’s room.
It was a grand room, with a monumental bed in the center, draped with soft
linens. Yet Talia was interested in something different, the closet. Inside she
found all her father’s clothes, from fine cotton to her father’s night clothes.
Talia grabbed a long, white tunic, and draped a stark, brown cloak. She then
slipped on a pair of his rugged sandals and was off. She then went to the
kitchen, moving quickly and swiftly, she found a boar, fresh from the market.
It’s head was lolled to one side and it was hanging of a hook, and Talia made a
face of disgust. She felt around and found it’s scruff, then started lopping of
huge hunks of it. Taking the hunk of hair, she moved over to some clay pots,
inside she found tough little pellets of mastic. She popped these in her mouth
and chewed on them until they were sticky. Using the sticky mastic Talia made
and almost, fake beard ensemble as a disguise. Satisfied with her work, she walked
to the door. Talia silently stepped out of her house and turned onto the
street, it was deserted. Of course, Talia thought, all the men must be at the
celebrations and the women are at home, cooking, sewing, and what not. So she quickened her pace and hurried down the
dusty road. Talia heard the Games before she saw them, they must just only be
starting she thought excitedly, but as she drew closer her heart started to
beat fast. She had known what the punishment was prior to her plan, but it only
started to sink in now. She could be killed, executed, for simply watching the
games. So what? The thought shot up fiercely into her brain. She loved this as
much as any man, and if she couldn’t do what she loved, she wouldn’t do
anything at all. Talia mustered up all her strength and simply walked into the
arena. The sound was deafening from the start, the roar of the spectators, like
a thousand horns trumpeting. She scanned the rows for and empty seat and found
one that was isolated in the back, perfect. The runners were lining up, some
jogging in place, bouncing on their feet getting ready to go and the sound. At
there it was, and they were of, and she watched them. Their limbs were glistening
in the afternoon sun and droplets of sweat forming here and there. Then as Talia caught a runner’s eye, she could
see it on his face. It was the feeling, the feeling she knew oh to well. It was
as if you were flying, as if it could cure anything in the world, as if you
were free. She shared that feeling with him and him with her, an unexplainable
bond. A tear, a single tear slid down her sun burnt cheek and dropped upon the
open palm of her hand. She felt her heart soar along with the runner, and out
of the corner of her eye she saw a man pointing and shouting, she had been
found out. She looked up to the sky, and saw a bird swooping and dipping,
chasing the sunlight. As hands clasped around her, yanking off her disguise and
chaining her up, she smiled.
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