The Work of Aphrodite: Οι εργασίες της Αφροδίτης

A hooded figure, with impressive agility and speed, was quickly making his way through the olive trees, staying in the shadows. Despite the loud crunching of the leaves under the figure, the loud chirping of the crickets cloaked his steps as he made his way to the palace. The olive grove, which was behind the gigantic marble palace, extended far from the view of the thick bushes that the stranger was crouching by. Behind the figure, the Parthenon could be seen, dimly lit by the lanterns of the priests that occupied it.

The figure dashed forward, reaching the marble columns that supported the neatly chiseled roof. The architect mimicked that of the palaces scattered amongst Athens. The figure ran along the palace's back entrance, and came to a stop at a stray olive tree, next to the palace. He looked up, and saw that it reached a balcony. He climbed up rather quickly, and jumped lightly onto the balcony. Prying open the heavy metal doors that led inside, the figure slipped inside, and discovered himself in a bedroom. He crept forward, pulling a knife out of his pocket. The metal glimmered in the moonlight that spilled in from the crack of the opened door.

The figure raised his knife, drawing closer to the bedside. The loud snoring indicated that it was a man. He pulled back the blanket slowly, not disturbing the sleeping figure. With no warning, his hand swept down, stabbing the sleeping man's heart. Silence quickly swept into the room, and the smell of death already crept through the cracks.

"You dine with Hades tonight," The figure mumbled, pleased with his work.

He left the knife on the bed, as a sign, and went out the door, into the night, leaving no other trace. Nothing answered, but the wind.