Continuation of Oedipus the King
What remained of his eye was slathered all over his hand. It oozed out from betwixt clenched fingers,
dripping a milky trail unto the barren earth. Blood poured ceaselessly from his eye socket, trails of
crimson and carmine running together to smear a reddened mask along his face. Had he been able to
feel, Oedipus would have been in great agony. But alas, he was numb.
dripping a milky trail unto the barren earth. Blood poured ceaselessly from his eye socket, trails of
crimson and carmine running together to smear a reddened mask along his face. Had he been able to
feel, Oedipus would have been in great agony. But alas, he was numb.
He fled. Into the desert, into forgiving nothingness. The skyline of Thebes had long since faded
behind him, sinking into the horizon until it lost all definitive shape. Yet he stumbled onwards, the
only pervasive thought on his mind relentlessly tugging him away. All he had to his name were the
grimy clothes on his back and a fate fit for the cruelest, crudest of men. He had lost his kingdom, his
daughters, his honor. What did one have if he had lost even his honor and valor? And so he did all
that one could in his position: he ran.
behind him, sinking into the horizon until it lost all definitive shape. Yet he stumbled onwards, the
only pervasive thought on his mind relentlessly tugging him away. All he had to his name were the
grimy clothes on his back and a fate fit for the cruelest, crudest of men. He had lost his kingdom, his
daughters, his honor. What did one have if he had lost even his honor and valor? And so he did all
that one could in his position: he ran.
Death was preferable. Indeed, it was the desire for death which had entranced him, luring him
further into the harsh desert where he would collapse into the utter oblivion provided upon one’s
passing. It was the prospect of death which held Oedipus upright, the prospect of death which urged
Oedipus onwards, the prospect of death which consumed Oedipus’ thoughts. There was no hope for
salvation; death offered his only solace.
further into the harsh desert where he would collapse into the utter oblivion provided upon one’s
passing. It was the prospect of death which held Oedipus upright, the prospect of death which urged
Oedipus onwards, the prospect of death which consumed Oedipus’ thoughts. There was no hope for
salvation; death offered his only solace.
It was only when the cloak of night had fallen, and the moon showed her kindly face, that Oedipus
finally collapsed. His knees buckled, unable to bear him further into the eternal night. It was there,
on the cracked, deprived earth, that Oedipus was destined to lay. For three moons and three suns he
lay, the relentless sun gradually siphoning the lifeblood from his body. The blood had long since
ceased to flow freely from his eye socket; it had dried in sticky russet trails which clung stubbornly
to his face. And so Oedipus passed in this fashion, neither in glory nor honor, in the midst of a
desert, with blood streaking his face, surrounded by naught but the wind and sand and sky.
finally collapsed. His knees buckled, unable to bear him further into the eternal night. It was there,
on the cracked, deprived earth, that Oedipus was destined to lay. For three moons and three suns he
lay, the relentless sun gradually siphoning the lifeblood from his body. The blood had long since
ceased to flow freely from his eye socket; it had dried in sticky russet trails which clung stubbornly
to his face. And so Oedipus passed in this fashion, neither in glory nor honor, in the midst of a
desert, with blood streaking his face, surrounded by naught but the wind and sand and sky.
I love your writing in this continuation, but you didn't add your name. Email me so you can get credit!
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