Hephaestus
In a flash of light, Hephaestus stood in front of the white panelled house. He pushed the black, iron-wrought gate open. He took two steps forward and then faltered.
He remembered when he first met Angela. She was very pretty. She was on the side of a road; her car had broken down. She was trying to fix the broken 1985, 2.0, C20, Honda Legend engine. Then he had arrived, almost as if he appeared out of thin air, she had said. They chatted as they worked together fixing the engine. Hephaestus could've fixed it in a minute, but for the sake of conversation, (and her sanity…) he refrained from doing so.
Hephaestus took another step and was standing on the welcoming mat, facing the polished, wooden door.
He remembered Angela's delight when she told him about the child. Her delight soon faded as he told her about the gods, about himself. She didn't cry; Hephaestus had admired that about her. He wouldn't have known what to do if she had started crying. Women, he snorted, automatons are so much more reliable, much more predictable. It still saddened him to leave her, she was amazing.
Hephaestus raised his hand to knock.
How was he to tell her that her only son had died? That her baby boy was never to walk through her door again?
He remembered watching over his son as he grew up. He had felt pride when he would see the latest invention that his son had built. Charles, he thought.
Hephaestus slowly knocked three times and after two minutes the door opened. Angela Beckendorf stood before him. Her wide caramel eyes shone with surprise, framed by inky black hair and her chocolate coloured hand flew to her mouth.
"Angela, may I enter… I have come to deliver news."
"Oh-oh, of course, come in." Her cheeks darkened and she was obviously flustered. Angela guided him into the warm, cosy living-room and offered him a drink. He declined and sat, as did she.
Looking at him warily, she asked, "Is it good news…or bad."
"I wish I brought good news, but it is not so." Hephaestus looked into her eyes. "A week ago, Charles went on a mission…"
She shook her head in denial and whispered a small and almost inaudible "No."
"Charles sacrificed himself for the war and for the life of a fellow demi-god." Angela turned her head away, "He has achieved asylum."
Hephaestus knew that this would not comfort her. It was merely meant to re-affirm her unwavering belief that her son was a hero. Angela's shoulder began to shake and her eyes sparkled with unshed tears. He wanted to comfort her but did not know how. He stared at his hands.
Hephaestus cleared his throat, brushed down his oil stained pants and stood. He took a deep breath and said, "I am truly sorry for your loss", and strode out the door with his head bowed. Hephaestus walked out the door and heard quiet, muffled sobs.
He remembered leaving exactly like this so many years ago…
Hey, It's me! The terrible writer behind this terrible story. But...if for some strange reason you liked this story and want me to write more, please let me know! I'd be happy to oblige. Thanks for reading,
Einstein's Theory
