Young Writers Society

Memories. They are like dreams. They always change. Sometimes you're yourself, sometimes you are someone else, and sometimes you are no one at all. Just a ghost drifting by.

I had another flash. Another memory. Another moment of my life. But this time, I wasn't me. I was a spirit of memories, invisible to the world. Of course I was invisible. My body is in Trojan War. In Troy. But my mind is here, looking at myself when I was just eight. Life goes by fast. But memories don't. They go at a normal speed, slower than normal even, and I can see every detail of what had happened. Memories.

I tried hard to think when was that. I saw myself heading out of my house, crossing the lake over the little wooden bridge. I kept walking for about fifteen minutes. The sun was hard on my face. I can see myself perfectly with the sun illuminating my form. I wasn't very tall, but not skinny either. My eyes were blue. A blue so dark that they looked black. But they were blue nevertheless. My black hair was cropped short. I was strong with the blessing of the Styx, but not as strong as I would get.

I knew then where was I going. I knew what memory my mind was showing me. It was my first training day. The first time I saw the centaur. The first time that I understood how strong I really was.

I opened the doors of a rusty metallic fence. From then on, there was no turning back. The centaur should be waiting inside. He was. He looked like a mighty warrior from the waist up, but an elegant, powerful brown stallion from the waist down. He held a bow in his right hand, a dagger attached to his belt, and two dozen arrows in a quiver strapped to his back. He had black hair tied back in a ponytail, and a beard long enough to reach his chest. His eyes were kind, but looked very mighty, like this man would be a dangerous enemy. He trotted over to me, and contemplated me for a while. Then he talked.

"Welcome, Achilles," said Chiron. He had a deep voice, but he implied power with his every syllable.

"Chiron," I replied, bowing low.

"Come in," he said. "Follow me." I did. Chiron led me through the outside of a small building, and then out to a yard where were several dummies with pumpkin heads. "We will train here," he said, "along with the others. They are currently not here as you may have noticed; they are in a hunting drill in the woods, but they should be back by nightfall. You will sleep with them too, in there." He pointed at the small building.

"But before anything," he continued, "we must find you a weapon. That is the most important element of a warrior." I nodded. He led me to a rack where laid many weapons. Swords, spears, maces... I picked a sword from the rack. So did Chiron.

"Attack me." He instructed. I thrust forward, but he deflected with his own sword. I swung it over my head, but he was too fast. I kept swinging it, but in vain.

"It doesn't feel right," I told him, shaking my head. He nodded. I left it in the rack and picked a spear instead. I didn't even try it. It was too heavy. I tried the mace. Too slow. A whip. Very complicated. I went on trying out weapons, but didn't find any. I was about to give up when Chiron shook my arm.

"How about this?" He asked me, handing me his bow and quiver. I weighed it in my hand. It felt perfect. "Try it out."

I placed an arrow in the bow. I pulled, aimed for a dummy, and shot. It hit the dummy in the eye. I shot another arrow, piercing its heart. A bird flew past, a fat turkey, and found an arrow stabbing its neck.

I looked at Chiron. He looked back, a strange expression on his face.

"Dinner." I said.