• Erin Gilman

Book 001: Day 001


I remember Rome

The sights. The smells. The soldiers in red. The poor. The rich. I remember them all. To me, it’s as though time has not passed. To me, their faces are as fresh in my mind as if I saw them yesterday as if I still had the dirt under my feet from the roads that led to the city of Caesar.

Yes, I remember Caesar too. I remember when he came and bowed at my feet and worshipped me. I remember looking down on the man who controlled the destiny of the world. I remember how he refused to make eye contact with me, and how he trembled in fear of me.

I remember being a god.

I remember the time before I became what I am. Like a child curled up in a dark corner of my mind, crying and scared, I remember that I had not always been the way I am. I remember my friends, my animals, my sisters.

I remember my parents and how they told me from the beginning that I was special, that I was better than the rest. I never doubted them. Why should I? They were my parents and they loved me. They had taken care of me, sheltered me, and clothed me from my birth. I remember that in the end, they were right.

I remember the ceremony. I remember the road that leads from my small village into the heart of Rome. I remember the ancient man who had been worshipped for three thousand years, sitting before me, telling me it was his time to leave this world for something better, and that only I, out of all of Rome, was pure enough to replace him.

I remember him giving me his essence, making me the vessel for the higher power that he had carried. I remembered how he gave me not one, but 100 who would live within my body, feeding off my energy, my soul.

I do not have to search for my memories to remember the pain. The pain has been with me since the moment the ancient one made me what I am today. Like a small flame under a finger, I did not comprehend, at first, how much pain I was in. Now, the pain is tens of thousands of times stronger than it was, and I no longer know anything other than pain. I am no longer able to do anything but suffer under the weight of who I am.

I remember joy, love, the taste of honey, and the touch of a woman, but I only long for an end.

Recent Posts

See All

Join The Story Tellers Society!

Privacy Police | Terms of Use