The Necromancer (A Story)

A Story: The Necromancer

Xara B. Williams

The Necromancer

Promethean Thomas III

For those who desire to delve into the precipice of death with the obsession of the human's fear, the desolate room of research of Promethean Thomas III would do ideally for you. For none such place can prove analogous as this here room in which he resided befitting that of his so called entitlement. For Promethean Thomas III had felt it only purgatory for the Goddess, God or mystical Pegasus to have placed him on this plane with air to breathe, lungs to transpire, so on and so forth and yet plague him with a dire need to fear aspects unbeknownst to him. This constant state of psychological liminality provoked him sorely. For on one side he was living through all the tools provided an organism to live and the other side, Promethean felt he'd already been dead.

He was angry.

Put me on this wretched Earth! He yell to the ceiling of his research room. Tell me to live! Live but force to accept an end I do not know what but that I know is! And will! Curse you!

It was a curse indeed, he'd concluded. For with no gift came such an overwhelming burden. Promethean believe that if he should live without knowing the stasis of humans’ greatest fear, then why would life be significant to him? If he cannot know what his perpetrator was or who his perpetrator was, then what was the sense living? He was surely just living in deceit, living under the false precept that life was a gift. He believed that one should know who or what to run from in order to know how to run, if not to run, or how fast to run. Ah! But then what was life really if all we did was run!

He had a headache.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

“Gah!” Promethean growled glaring at the door, “A few more minutes! You can wait, can you not?”

He received no answer and so hissing his teeth returned back to his dubious task of depicting what the hell his life meant. What was his purpose? Did he even have one? And if not, what useless human if he had no intentions on the world. Useless.

He scorned the word. Everything had a use. The broken chair beneath him had a use. The steel bed to the corner of the room had a use. His pen, his paper- uses! Uses! Uses! Those without use are thrown away. If he was without use, without intentions on this Earth, then was he too to be disposed of?

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Promethean sighed. “Give me a few more minutes damn it!”

He turned back to his desk.

But then he thought of his brother. The ferociously independent whimsical 21 year old who would truly end up in a ditch if not for Promethean. Then his fickle mother who had no one but her two sons. One son. His brother was too unpredictable. His daughter, his wife….was this his life? Was that his purpose. Perhaps this simple paradigm was his life. Taking care of those who he'd loved. And who loved him.

In revaluation, Promethean had jumped up, the broken chair finally shattering from the sheer force of his excitement.

Life! He shouted Life! Life! Life! Oh life!

He was in love with it! He was in love with it. In love with the notion of uncertainty. In love with the fact that life had much more to offer than a creeping shadow that followed on end till it was your end. Promethean didn't feel conned anymore. He wanted to live! He wanted life!

Knock! Knock! Knoc-

“Okay damn it!” angrily Promethean stalked over to the iron door and pulled it open ready to yell at whomever had interrupted his revelation but pulled up short at the mystical creature that stood the threshold of his door.

A winged horse.

‘Why so surprised? Had you not called for me? Prayed for me? Wanted for me?” the Pegasus asked in a rhombus voice. A Godly voice.

‘'No!’ Promethean paled, ‘'No, no, no I've realized now! I figured it out! I now know my purpose!” He smiled brightly at the sense of relief in his heart, “my wife, my children, my mother, brother-these are who I must live for, for they live for me!”

“My purpose is companionship! In life, our purpose is to love and find those who will love us. I have. Now I’m ready to live. Pegasus, I shall live!’

The Godly creature gave a small smile. A kind sympathetic smile, and with this Promethean was confused.

‘My child, one does not choose when they are ready to live. Life chooses us. Not the other way around.”

His eyes widened in realization, and before the thought to retaliate came to mind, the Pegasus raised his wings, and without another word Promethean was enveloped in darkness.

EXPLANATION:

Name: Promethean

The name Promethean was chosen in correlation to the Greek God Prometheus who was rebellious, and who’d gifted men the gift of fire, and was then punished by Greek god Zeus. The character Promethean rebels against life by obsession with death, and with this obsession in the end he is gifted with the knowledge of the true meaning of life, and much like Greek god Prometheus, is punished for his deed.

The Winged Horse:

The Winged Horse is a Pegasus. The Pegasus was the perfect mythical creature to take away the life of Promethean because of the representation of duality. The Pegasus had drawn life from the death of his mother Medusa as he’d been born from the stub of her decapitated head. Promethean studies the duality of life and death then taken away by a creature Born from Death. It’s simply poetic.

The Story:

Promethean believed that life could not be a gift if our whole lives we are without knowledge of when we will die, what we should die by, and how we would die. It was more burdensome because we all knew that we would die. So he questioned this ‘gift’ of life. His curiosity then stumbles upon his purpose of life as he believes he has none if he just is living to die. And he believes that if he has no purpose then he was useless and without use death cannot be far because useless things are disposed of.

Promethean then thinks hard on his life. His mother, his brother, his wife, and his child. In realization he is now happy and in love with life because he realizes that the purpose of life is companionship. To search and find those who love you and whom you love back, and with this the inevitability of death means nothing as you have loved ones around you. But his story, and life, ends with the thing that humans fear the most. The unknown of death.

The story capitalizes on the sad fact that you never know when you will die. Death waits for no one, and neither does it’s duality-Life. Life does not wait for you to live it, and Death does not wait for you to accept it.

This is the sad truth.