Of a sudden, a cry woke Diogenes from his thoughts. A man was running towards him,
sword raised. Diogenes raised his spear in defence against this foe, realising again that
battle raged all around. The moment the man was upon him he realised that it was not to
him that this man’s fury was directed. Before Diogenes could do a thing, the young man
kneeling at his feet was killed by one of Diogenes fellow men. His head, hacked from the
neck, rolled on the ground staining the grass with its dark red blood. The look on the young
man’s face was one of complete peace, a peace which for most men is unattainable, yet
he had now crossed the void between the mortal and immortal and it was clear to see that
he now was where he always wished to be.
Diogenes raised his spear before he had time to arrest his thoughts and struck down the
soldier who had done the deed. This young soldier who had been his enemy and then his
friend in the matter of a moment had been struck dead, and Diogenes felt as if his very soul
had just been slain.
In Despair he ran. The thunder broke from the cloud and it seemed as if a thousand voices
shook the earth. The rain turned to the blood of innocents and the earth was fire.
All around him were faces, young and old, men and women some whom he knew and
others were complete strangers. But they all had the same cry on their lips.
“Murderer!”
In his torment, Diogenes lashed out with his hand, in an attempt to make their jeering
cease, but to no avail. The blood fell in torrents now and was in and out and all around him.
In the sky, darkness and light battled for position and it seemed as if the void between
earth and the heavens met. Only one great expanse filled with only death. Death that he
had brought to the world. Death that he had brought to others at his own hand. Death that
he now felt strike at the very core of his heart. Only Death.
Suddenly he fell. Expecting to strik