The Pantheon by Amy Leigh Strickland Page B

Valerie said as Coach Morin and the EMT stood her up. She was weak on her feet so Jason picked her up and started to fireman carry her up the beach. “He said something else.”
    The details were starting to un-fog like a dream that came back at midday. He knew who she was; he’d called her “Hess.” His hot breath on her ear, his fingers squeezing her wrist-- she remembered those sensations. He was pissed.
    He’d pushed her against the outside wall of the bathroom building. He’d told her that he’d teach them all a lesson. She’d asked who he was.
    “ He called himself Epimetheus, that’s the last thing I remember.”

“ Excessive fear is always powerless.”
    -Aeschylus

    viii.

    The cavern below was dark and bitter cold.
    She waited at the mouth where the stone stairs fell,
    spiraling downward, hung by vines of shadow.
    Water rushed beneath.

    The black river coursed under the skin of earth.
    The moisture’s quick chorus was the only sound.
    It echoed from the void of the cave below
    and then the sunshine.

    A head of golden hair rose to meet the sun.
    Her beautiful daughter emerged from the dark
    and was received without delay with a kiss
    and a warm embrace.

    “ Tell me,” the mother said, “did you eat something?”
    “ No,” the girl said, shaking her head in reply.
    “ Not any more than three pomegranate seeds.”
    The girl did not know.

    Her mother began to weep for her child’s fate.
    The trees grew dry and the leaves fell and rattled,
    landing as brittle brown sheets and then rotting.
    The air became cold.

    Her mother looked back to the mouth of the cave.
    He was standing alone in his ashen form.
    He was smiling wickedly with pleasure.
    He had won his bride.

“ Modesty is the colour of virtue.”
    -Diogenes

    VIII.

    It was Halloween-- the real Halloween, though all of the parties and trick-or-treating had occurred over the previous weekend. Even though the main attractions were over, students still wanted to wear costumes and stuff their faces with candy corn. The dress code had permitted any costume that wasn’t provocative, racially offensive, or involving any type of headgear that might obscure the face. This eliminated most of the costumes that students had worn over the weekend, forcing much of the student body to improvise a second costume.
    Dr. Celene Davis had opted for a lab coat and a stethoscope. She got a kick out of being “Dr. Davis.” The actual M.D. at Olympia Heights Senior High, Dr. Jason Livingstone, was dressed as Indiana Jones. He strapped a whip to his belt and wore a very nice leather fedora. He’d even shaved his beard, which made him look ten years younger and entirely unrecognizable.
    “ I didn’t recognize you,” Celene said as she stepped into his office in the afternoon, looking for a quick fix for a bad headache. Jason had set a roll of guaze and a disinfectant wipe on the sink. He was washing his hands. Valerie Hess, sat on the chair in front of his desk, waiting for him to change her bandages. It was her first day back at school since the incident at the Halloween Carnival.
    “ Yeah, I tried to pull off Harrison Ford. I don’t think it’s working.”
    “ Don’t feel bad, nobody can ever be Harrison Ford,” she joked, “that’s just reaching for perfection.”
    “ I guess that’s right,” he chuckled. “What can I do for you?” He dried his hands and took his supplies to sit opposite Valerie. Valerie was silent.
    “ Acetaminophen. Headache.” Celene said.
    “ Top shelf of the left-most cabinet.” Jason said, though Celene knew by now. Her headaches were quite frequent.
    Valerie grimaced as he unwrapped her old bandages. She had been quiet since the attack. Her mind was somewhere else, somewhere bad. Celene glanced down at the burns. Handprints. The burns were in the shape of handprints. Celene had heard a rumor to that effect, but she was startled to see that it was actually true.
    The police suspected that Valerie’s attacker had