Cassandra And Polyxena Alternate Ending

It was a hot, searing day as the sun beat down on my skin. The lush green palm trees provided me shade as I sat and observed my surroundings. Children, barefoot and dirty, wearing tattered and stained clothes were running around laughing and playing. Their joyous giggles put a smile on my face and warmed my heart as I watched them.

She possesses great vulnerability as victim to Apollo, who gave her powers, Agamemnon, her kidnapper, and Clytemnestra, her murderer. The first group of people she spoke to were the Chorus, who acted as the voice of the common man throughout the trilogy. She described her visions, in detail, of the future. Cassandra tells the chorus how she deceived Apollo by promising to marry him in exchange for prophetic powers but backed out. Upon realizing her deceit, Apollo cursed her so that no one would believe her prophecies. She wails that the House of Atreus is cursed because of the blood-soaked hands of the past fathers. She predicts that Clytemnestra will kill Agamemnon and describes the frantic splashing of Agamemnon in the bath tub while Clytemnestra stabs him. She also predicts her own murder at the hands of two butchers, Clytemnestra and Aegisthus. Cassandra, uninvolved in the family’s ordeals, fears for her own life but then soon realizes that fate is inexorable and accepts her death with courage. The Chorus doesn’t understand her utterances, but know that they are full of sorrow. She also foretells Orestes, the son of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra, will avenge his father’s death by murdering his mother. Cassandra isn’t presented as a citizen but rather as an unstable, dirty (matter out of place) slave. Carson situates women as “pollutable, polluted, and polluting in several ways at once” resulting in the male fearing the woman for lack of personal boundary

He waited until the night’s 11th hour. By now the Princess rested in the highest tower of the castle, locked away from the dangerous world, yet so oblivious to the dangers that which fated the rest of her life. Silently the peasant journeyed outside, where he stopped at the wall of the tower where she lay. He watched her in the darkness from below, lifting his face to her, letting the light rest on his every surface of darkness. The night was cloudless. The winds wailed between the motionless oak trees as its thin branches clawed out, ever so slightly disturbing the leaves with its hostile screeches. Not the thick moss of the trees nor the damp leaves squirming in his toes could distract the peasant from so enticing a scent. All that encircled him was the sweetness of lavender and rosewood, filling his entire being as he sunk into the grass, like sand washed over by the water, with every breeze passing

“No?” she inquires, clearly wanting to know more. Capheus thinks he might have an idea where this is going, so he

“Why would you trust her knowing what she did to Travin who still has not fully recovered?” She appeared quite annoyed by her addition to their party.

I pushed through the doors bumping into Yalena. I hit her hard and we tumble down the hill. “Hey wha- WAIT FOR ME er- US!!” Yelled Ryea and Ember. Yalena's hair was tangled in my fingers and the grass and twigs did not make tumbling down the hill any better. Oh what were we going to do?

“Of course, I do,” she said. “I don’t care what our family will think either!”

The thundering sound of hooves echoes in my ears as my horse comes barreling down the hill toward me. My whistle had caused him to go crashing through the tall grass and Queen Ann’s Lace in search of me once again. Coming to a sliding stop in front of me, I gently stroke his muzzle. Letting my hands glide over his fuzzy neck and into his jet black mane, I grab ahold and throw myself onto his strong back. We go running through the pasture, scattering wild rabbits and sending sparrows a flight. I watch them fly overhead, their brown wings leading them to rest in the big oak tree that my horse and I come to a halt underneath.

“You sound like you were expecting to have me killed,” Chandler the Fair muttered in a sarcastic tone.

Strutting through the familiar, gate worn by time, I spread my arms, taking in the saccharine aroma of the fresh grass. The remaining glimmers of the sun glisten on every blade that peeks through the moist soil, composing a sea of sparkling beauty, only comparable to a poem. The meadow is breathtaking this evening, as the sun sets behind the trees in the distance, leaving a glow of pinks, peaches, ambers, and crimsons behind as if a bowl of fruit had exploded in the sky.

Owena rose and crossed to the tiny window. She pressed her face against the opening and took a deep breath. “This kingdom is a good place. I’ve had a good life here, mostly. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? To help me like you did with Petra? To give me poison?”

Her mother started crying and father had tears in his eyes. They were all smiling, then Alli’s nephew’s came running into her arms. They were all laughing and smiling as tears of joy ran down each of their faces. Alli looked back and smiled, Amelia returned the gesture with a smile of her own and waved. She began walking back to her own house, when she noticed something, the sun was still setting. It was late noon just as it had been in the forest. But she had a more important question. “Back their. With the sword thing. How did I? It was a

“Cassandra, we don’t trust you.” My mother purses her lips. “You need to prove that you’re ready to see them.”

He strode into the clan gathering, he noticed her dancing a Highland Fling with her kilt and hair whipping around her tight young body. Her smile flashed as she moved to the intricate steps of her dance. Her cheeks flushed and her eyes blazed with a heat which drew him like a moth to a flame. Around and around she swirled and kicked to the music of the bagpipes. As she spun around, he could see her beautiful long legs and the sweet curve of her rounded bottom. Her waist, he realized he could circle with his hands. Her bust was full and appeared to be a plump handful. Her complexion was pale as peaches he’d read about in books from her world. While he enjoyed her dance, passion heated his blood, and Mackenzie recognized she was the young woman from his dream.

It took very long, but by sunset, she recognized her farm and her fields. But it had been destroyed. The fields looked as if they had erupted, and her animals were missing. But her house was the saddest . . . it was gone. All her belongings were scattered everywhere.