Hallowed evening fellow Athenians, I write to you in immense despair, having witnessed one of the greatest tragedies in Greek history. At the seventeenth hour, our beloved Achilles was brutally murdered. The murder was committed inside our great Parthenon by the despicable Paris, Prince of Troy.
Currently, crowds gather laying flowers, candles, and memorabilia around our beloved hero. We have begun a vast period of mourning, and ache with the loss of our great champion. In an effort to honor our fallen lionheart, my compatriots and I enclose the story of his fateful death.
Let us remember the great Achilles.
(eet: 5:00) We arrive at the event of misfortune to crowds already surrounding the two warriors at their center. There is a trance in the air, everyone in suspense at the clash to come. Here, we find Achilles, warrior of Greece, hero in his own rights, yet son of gods. Opposing him, bestowed with abhorrence by our people, we see the dreaded Paris, Prince of Troy, our greatest enemy.
Our chariot draws near to the chaos, air crackling with rivaling authority. Both opponents ripple with disgust and loathing.
Mutually sensing the strain of the impossible affair, both warriors prepare to duel, drawing their weapons and preparing for battle. Achilles readies his spear, while Paris draws his sword, both resigned to their undisclosed fates.
With great anticipation, the soldiers circle each other, closing the distance between them inch by inch. Achilles, being patient, continues to wait for an opening to attack and Paris provides him with one. Paris lunges forward, narrowly slicing into Achilles shoulder, yet still missing. Seeing the hole in his adversary’s guard, our hero seizes his opportunity. Raising his spear, Achilles pierces the lower abdomen of his opponent, before retracting it for full grasp. Paris stumbles back, mouth agape from the brute force of impact. However, he still stands, forcing through the pain of his blow.
Suddenly, Paris uses a dirty trick he has up his sleeve. Stumbling yet again towards Achillies, Paris thrashes his sword, and as our hero goes to deflect him, Paris uses his left arm to jab at Achilles, using an arrow pulled from a strap behind his back. The usurper drives the pointed arrow into the heart of Achilles, causing our warrior to fall to his knees, gasping for air. With the last of his energy, adrenaline coursing through his veins, our beloved champion musters the strength to drive his spear into the heart of his opponent, both men reeling with the effect. In unison, both soldiers collapse to the stone ground, the pair killed in their fury.
Our great Achilles has fought his last battle with great honor. He used his wits and self-restraint, fighting a clean bout as a true warrior, unlike the atrocious Trojan prince. While Achilles left our mortal world, he did not fall alone, ending Paris’s reign in turn, a win to Greeks near and far.
We will miss our fallen hero Achilles dearly, yet he will forever remain in our hearts, a champion to all.
TO OUR VICTOR, ACHILLES, MAY YOU REST IN PEACE…