Don’t say it Hercules. Please. Don’t say it. Just laugh at my joke OK? Just pretend that nothing’s wrong. Please. If you say it, if you say those words I can see in your mind - I’ll crumble. Don’t touch me, not now. Just laugh at my joke, I know it’s feeble, not my best attempt. But laugh anyway. Please.
So we make camp again, doing the same things that we’ve done so many times before. The routine is a comfort. But I have to avoid your eyes - you look at me with those eyes full of hurt and love. Don’t look at me like that Hercules. Please don’t. Just smile and crack a joke and let me know that everything’s still the same. Because in my heart it isn’t. In my heart the world has turned to fear and hatred and a blinding black agony. I need you to stay strong for me Hercules, I need you to be my friend.
Don’t say what you’re thinking Herc. Sometimes thoughts shouldn’t be turned to words. Sometimes it’s better to let it go, don’t ask me that Hercules. You don’t really want to know. You’re my friend and I love you and I can’t tell you. Just laugh at the bawdy song I offer you, tease me about my singing, about my height if it comes to that. Just don’t ask what’s wrong. Nothing will be wrong if you don’t ask.
But you can’t laugh in my dreams can you? You can’t be there to act normal then. I wish you could. I know you stand watch over me as I sleep, I feel you there. I feel your worry blanketing the air. But it isn’t enough to keep him away from me when I sleep...
The light is dim, it’s impossible to make out more than murky shapes in the gloom. Against the damp mossy wall a man hangs from the manacles that hold his wrists. The torment of the wait has become too much for him. This strong warrior who faces any fear head on with courage, wants to run from this. He wants redemption, but more than that he wants an end.
The sound of leather snicking softly against skin arouses his horror and he looks with terror filled eyes at the man that approaches him. The whip is long and brutally sharp along it’s broad edges. He whispers a prayer as he feels the first strike across his naked chest. He screams as the second blow slices across his unprotected belly, “Flesh from the bones, flesh from the bones.” is the angry whisper he hears coming from the man holding the instrument of his torture, and he knows the truth of it as his naked body is now clothed in a robe of deep ruby red - blood, his own blood.
More times than he can count the whip parts his flesh, more times than he can remember he screams. Until his voice is broken, until he is silenced to a helpless whimpering. The man retreats and he is alone again, too scared to look down at himself, too full of pain to want anything other than an end to this. An end to everything. For the first time in his life he wishes for death as an escape. Instead of facing death with honour and courage he begs for it with humiliated despair...
It’s all right, be calm. Breathe slowly. In - out, in - out.
I wonder why I never wake during the worst part of the dream. It’s as if I’m trapped in it. Made to suffer that agony every night of my life. When it gets really bad I wonder if it will follow me into death. Can the pain hold me there too? Hercules is restless, my dreams probably woke him. He says nothing, but I ‘know’ he’s awake. I always know. I won’t sleep again tonight, I daren’t. I’ve had my nightly visit it should be safe to sleep now, but the fear haunts me. The worry that the dream will grow, will return more frequently. I fear that one day it will visit during the day, and I’ll scream my way to madness.
The stars are beautiful tonight, adorning the heavens with their beauty. I wonder if my dream prayer is ever heard, I wonder... but that’s useless. If I’m to suffer I have to do it alone. Hercules mustn’t know. He wouldn’t understand. He mustn’t know! Just so long as he doesn’t ask. He’s worried, he knows there’s something wrong. But I’ve managed to keep him away from the questions - so far. How much longer though? How much longer will this go on before I go mad or die and fail him...
The blond warrior’s body is facing the mossy wall now. He can feel his blood congealing, sticking his torn flesh to the damp stone. This time he can’t see who is standing behind him, but he anticipates the tearing leather across his back. So when a gentle hand caresses his shoulder and runs delicately down his back, he starts violently in surprise. The sudden movement tears his flesh away from the wall bringing fresh blood, and he moans.
A gentle voice breaks through his torment, “We can’t help you here Iolaus. We’re helpless in this place. We want to help you Curly, really we do.”
He turns his head carefully, there’s nobody there. But that voice, so sweet and lovely, he’s sure he knows it. Was it true - what she had said? Was there to be no help from any quarter, no peace? He hears the sound of leather whispering against cloth, his blood is being cleaned from the whip’s length, and he braces himself for the screaming agony to reclaim his body. As the blows fall across his back he hears the nightly litany start, “Flesh from the bones, flesh from the bones.” ...
He shouldn’t have come back! Flesh and bones. Oh by all that’s sacred, please! No! No more, please. Please!
All right. I’m all right. It was a dream, it had no substance. Look, feel your skin Iolaus, smooth, intact. It was just another dream. Oh, if only I could believe that. If only I could convince myself (flesh).
Oh no, Hercules is coming. I must have called out. I must have screamed. He sounds so scared, so unsure of himself.
“I’m all right Herc. Just a bit of a bad dream. Must have been that possum stew, you know what that can do to your stomach!”
Give him your sunniest smile Iolaus. You’ve got to convince him. OK... I think it’s OK.
“Yeah, I’m sure. Go back to sleep, everything’s fine.”
I wish I could really believe that. If the gods can’t help me and Hercules can’t help me then I’m on my own. All alone (flesh and bone). It’s cold, where’s the blanket? And if I’m alone, then only I can fight this. Only I can save Hercules. How come the gods only stand and watch when you really need them? How come when they finally say they want to help they always say they can’t?
But I shouldn’t be hard on them. Aphrodite’s a good person, she would help me if she could. I’m her sweetcheeks after all! Mmm, yeah, she’s even kissed me. I wish she’d kiss me now. That’d be nice. Don’t suppose Hephy would understand though. I remember her touch soft on my skin (flesh and bones).
Flayed to bones. A skeleton at night a man during the day. Is that what it’s going to be like? Two people, one haunted by the other throughout his living days. And what of death? What of death? Is that an escape? And if it was, would it kill Hercules if I died again. I couldn’t hurt him like that, I could never hurt him.
So, I wait for dawn and the game he and I play now. Cat and mouse, a game of chance, where the odds are against us, and the price too high for either of us to pay. Your soul Hercules, I’m doing this to save your soul. I wish I could let you know. ‘Dite will. I’m sure she will....when this is over, if you’re safe. When I’m more bone than flesh...
“Dawn doesn’t come yet, warrior! Dawn is your friend but she doesn’t come yet. I have more time - flesh from your bones brave warrior. Flesh from your bones.”
The blond was free of his manacles now, he lay where he had fallen on the cold stone floor. The pain washes over him, it is everywhere. Blood pulses behind his eyes. He should be dead, if this wasn’t a dream he would be dead. No man could stand this pain, no man could lose so much of his body and live. But somewhere from within the searing agony Iolaus recognises that tomorrow night his flesh will have knitted back to his bones, his skin will once again be tan and smooth. Awaiting the strike of the lash again and again and again, until he is lying here in a river of his own blood, alive with no possibility of escape.
He feels the lash fall on him again, finding fresh unclaimed skin to feed on. It ravages his arms and feet, until all that is left is his face, his body just a bloody mass of meat. He hears a voice as the man leans close to his face,
“My you are a brave warrior ( flesh) you withstand so much every night to protect your friend (bones). And you are enough to entertain me, to keep me strong until you succumb and he is mine forever (flesh from bones). Your flesh Iolaus, see how it melts away now. And then it will be Hercules (flesh) here with me and my little flaying stick. Only he will last for (bones) all eternity, knowing that you failed him. Knowing that you turned to madness (flesh and bones) to escape.”
Iolaus lays in a writhing pool of agony, he has never known so much pain before. But he will not give in to madness yet, he will not let Hercules suffer this...
Dawn. At last. Oh what a sweet sight it is. The pain a bad memory, something to place in the shadows until tonight. A lifetime away. Don’t ask any questions today Hercules, just laugh. Please.
He’s quiet, watching me eat. So I make a show of how hungry I am. I hope I can keep it down, the sight of food is turning my stomach. He’s going to say something, I know he is. Please don’t Hercules.
“Hey, Herc! D’you know the one about the possum?”
Gods, what am I doing? I don’t know one about a possum. Uh-oh! It’s not going to work this time. Give me strength. I hate to lie to him. Please don’t do this Herc. Don’t say it.
“I’m fine! It was just a bad dream. It’s nothing.”
Gods, he won’t give up. No, of course he won’t. He’s worried. He’s got no idea what he’s doing to me.
“Please, Herc. Trust me. Just don’t ask. Please don’t ask.”
But he does, he’s more stubborn than me. He always thinks if he’s involved, if he knows what the problem is, then he can solve it. Lucky him. I’m too tired for this.
“Hercules! Leave it. There’s nothing to say.”
And I walk away from the camp. I mustn’t look back. Let him follow, let ‘him’ trail along behind ‘me’ not knowing what’s going on for a change. See how he likes it! I’m so tired though, so very tired.
“Flesh from your bones Iolaus, do you hear me? Flesh from your bones.”
What? What was that? Oh no, please no. I was nodding off as I walked then. How do I fight this? Can’t somebody at least give me a clue?
“It isn’t real Iolaus. It isn’t inside you. It is elsewhere. Be strong, and remember, you have to face him on your terms in his place. You can do it.”
Huh? Aphrodite? Damn - Hercules noticed that, and he’s got that gleam in his eyes. He’s not going to leave it this time. What did she mean, it isn’t inside me?
“Herc?”
“I know you’re worried about me. But can’t you trust me Hercules? Can’t you accept that this isn’t your fight, it’s something I have to do by myself.”
This hurts so much.
“I know we’re a team. We’ll always be a team. But sometimes there are things you have to do without me. I accept that, why can’t you accept that this is something I have to do without you?”
Please Herc. Please stop, can’t you see how much you’re hurting me?
“Please Herc - trust me. Just this once, have some faith in your friend.”
He’s hurt. I’ve hurt him! I hate this! Please understand Hercules I do this because I love you.
Now we walk in silence. He’s sulking, I’m sure he is. I never thought I’d see Hercules sulking. But what can I say now to make it better? There’s nothing. All I can do is think about Aphrodite’s words, and wait for dark.
Crack. The sound of the leather cutting the air and striking naked flesh, tearing it into strips, pulling it from the bones it clothes. “Flesh from your bones, flesh from your bones.”
‘It isn’t real, it isn’t inside me. But it hurts!’
Blood runs in rivers down the parting flesh. The weakened warrior lets his head fall and so can see his chest and belly and worse, what lays below, for the first time. He hadn’t screamed yet tonight, but he does now, a long scream full of anguish and horror. He can see the ruin of his body and knowing that it isn’t real, knowing that his body lays safely sleeping next to Hercules isn’t enough. The skin on his chest and belly is almost gone, flayed away. A few ragged strips all that’s left. The muscle and sinew beneath cut into ribbons and falling from the bones already. Below that there is a frightening emptiness, a black void where once he’d been a man, a hole that screams at him with its own voice. Then the sheen of blood on bone - a thigh bone laid bare.
Madness capers joyfully in his head, shouting for attention. Calling out all the horrors of his heart. He is no longer a man, he is a burning heap of flesh and bone. ‘Go mad.’ he thinks to himself, ‘Just go mad, and it won’t matter anymore. Go mad and he can take your flesh as many times as he wants, it won’t matter anymore. Nothing will matter.’ But something tugs at his heart, and he can hear a sweet voice calling to him,
“Don’t Iolaus. Please don’t. Come back to us. Please sweetcheeks.”
Slowly Iolaus focuses on the man with the leather whip in his hands, he feels the hatred that radiates off him. The blond warrior wishes that he could understand what Aphrodite was trying to tell him. But he can’t, he’s failed Hercules. He will live in Tartarus until he dies, and then will he go there after death? Probably. He’s let the gods down. He’s failed everyone...
It isn’t real, it isn’t inside you - what do you mean? I know it isn’t real, but it might as well be. But it isn’t inside you, what’s that? Where’s elsewhere supposed to be? Is it a real place? Nah, can’t be that. So where is it? Maybe I can go there on my terms, before he comes for me? Maybe that’s what she meant? Yeah! If I get there first I won’t already be chained, I’ll be able to meet him on equal terms. Fight him or something. And if I do that will it save Hercules? Will it be enough?
I’ll have to try. There’s nothing else to do. How? Where’s my sword, maybe I can take it with me? How do I do this? Maybe if I go there before he calls for me. How though? If I concentrate hard enough, is that what you meant Aphrodite?
Gods, but I’m scared. What if I just take myself back to the pain? What if I can’t go there unless he calls? But I know the way - I think I must. It’s in me now, the pathway he created. So I just have to find it. Look after Hercules ‘Dite - if I don’t come back look after him for me. Tell him...you know what to tell him.
Give me strength.
OK, lay back, sword gripped tightly. Breathe deep and slow. Where are you oh tormentor mine? Where do you hide?
The blond warrior stands outside a large imposing castle. The smell of damp pervades. Vines and creepers have claimed it’s walls, pulling them slowly but inexorably apart. The castle is crumbling into the ground. The warrior gives a grim smile and speaks quietly, “Flesh from bones. Bones. Soon that’s all that’s left of you. But not me. Nor Hercules. Is this why you need him? To save your precious world, to keep the flesh on the bones of this castle? Well you won’t get him.”
The castle’s doors are made of wood and have rotted badly. It takes just a touch from the warrior’s sword to send them crashing down. He smiles, planning on more destruction yet, “Flesh from bones, and this time they’re yours!” He moves cautiously into the castle.
Inside is no different from the outside. The warrior has to breathe shallowly as the rank smell of decay almost overpowers him. “Not real, not inside, not real, not inside.” He speaks the words aloud as a kind of litany or prayer, hoping that in some way they will protect him.
The other man steps from the shadows, the whip coiled and ready in his hands. His face a mask of anger and hatred and fear. A new emotion for him, the fear sits uneasy in his eyes, “Flesh from your bones. Iolaus. Flesh from your bones.” He spits the words out before letting the leather fly towards his foe. Iolaus screams, as much in anger as in pain, as it slices across the skin on his chest raising a line of blood. He surprises his foe by grabbing hold of the sharp leather. He ignores the pain as it cuts into his hand and pulls the whip sharply towards him bringing the other man within range. Iolaus feels no sorrow as he raises his sword and thrusts it home.
The dying screams reverberate around the stone walls making them shake and after a moment’s pause begin to fall. Iolaus runs, but as he runs the castle seems to dissolve around him and he finds...
“Woah! What? How? I’m back? Herc? I’m...gods, it’s over. It’s really over. What is it Herc? Why are you looking at me like that? OK, OK, stop fussing I’ll sit up if... wait a minute, my hand hurts.”
I’m bleeding?! That never happened before!
Here’s my hand, gods, it’s bleeding everywhere, and....Herc? Why’s he staring at my chest like that? Uh-oh, I’m bleeding there too. All right, I’ll let you fuss over me for a bit Herc. I know it’ll make you feel better, it’ll make me feel better too, but I’m not telling you that.
What was that place? Look at how he bandages my hand, so careful, so delicate. Most people would laugh at the thought that the great Hercules could be so gentle, but not me. Never me. I can’t tell you what happened my friend, it’d hurt you too much to know. This will have to remain my secret from you, I hate that...us having secrets. But how could I ever get you to understand that I gave myself willingly? How could you ever forgive me for valuing your life above my own?
“Ouch! Be careful will you.”
Now he asks, giving me that little boy lost look, “I’m sorry Hercules, I can’t tell you. Everything’s all right now. I won’t have any more dreams.”
I’m hungry! I don’t believe it, after all that and I’m hungry. Wow, sometimes I amaze even myself!
“Herc? What’s for breakfast? Don’t look at me like that, I need food. Lots and lots of food.”
I wonder who that man was, not a man I suppose. A demon? Probably. And it was Hercules because of his godly blood, so why... oh why bother. I don’t suppose I’ll ever know.
The End
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