As the sun rose over Greece, all seemed to be well and normal. In the little village of Kato Musca, people were just waking up. Some had risen long before the sun to start their chores, some just sat outside, listening to the sounds of the ocean. This was the quietest part of the day, for no one was to speak when the phoenix arose.
To the south stood the volcano Hiroma de Boukore, noble and green. Inside this volcano, as all the inhabitants of the island Methana knew, lived a phoenix. A bird that lived in the bubbling lava it had created inside Hiroma, he was worshiped by all those who did not wish to die a most painful death. Phoenixes had been known to be very proud creatures, and if even one of the villagers disrespected the phoenix or …show more content…
It was a beautiful, haunting thing. No human would ever be able to interpret or reproduce the beautiful sound, which only inflated the phoenix’s ego. He was unique, the only phoenix in the world, and it went without saying that he was the most beautiful bird anyone would ever see.
When the bright morning light spilled into the vent of the volcano, the phoenix opened his brilliant blue eyes. He stretched his mighty wings and hummed, the sweltering liquid surrounding him suddenly dispersing. His talons tucked themselves into his soft feathers and he flapped his wings, rising from the lava.
It was certainly a sight to behold. The villagers watched in awe as the phoenix appeared. Ruby red liquid dripped from him, and what sounded like a chorus of angels was heard. He was starting his song.
Usually, he would fly all over Greece, watching as people bowed to him. Today, however, was the day he would leave the Earth in a great ball of fire. Today was the day he would die. He hovered over his volcano until he finished his song, then he collapsed, too weak to fly. The lava consumed his body again, and he fell into his own …show more content…
All phoenixes were the same colors; red, gold and orange, the colors associated with Helios. Not all phoenixes were exactly the same, though. This phoenix had known this ever since he arose from the ashes of the previous. He thought it was a common knowledge that was passed along through the smoke from herbs put in the death/birth nest.
As he thought of the herbs he would need to gather by sunset, his stomach gave an earth-shaking rumble. He once again gracefully arose from the volcano, this time swooping down to the valley below. It was filled with tributes to him: rare herbs that had to be grown for three years, odd-looking ones that smelled foreign - anything the phoenix could ever want to eat.
After having a meal, he collected myrrh, cinnamon, and spikenard, enough to make a large nest. This was part of the knowledge passed onto him. He carried the spices to the village, where a large oak tree resided. On the topmost branches he made a hollow ball, then climbed into it. He would spend hours there, and when the sun went down, burst into
To the south stood the volcano Hiroma de Boukore, noble and green. Inside this volcano, as all the inhabitants of the island Methana knew, lived a phoenix. A bird that lived in the bubbling lava it had created inside Hiroma, he was worshiped by all those who did not wish to die a most painful death. Phoenixes had been known to be very proud creatures, and if even one of the villagers disrespected the phoenix or …show more content…
It was a beautiful, haunting thing. No human would ever be able to interpret or reproduce the beautiful sound, which only inflated the phoenix’s ego. He was unique, the only phoenix in the world, and it went without saying that he was the most beautiful bird anyone would ever see.
When the bright morning light spilled into the vent of the volcano, the phoenix opened his brilliant blue eyes. He stretched his mighty wings and hummed, the sweltering liquid surrounding him suddenly dispersing. His talons tucked themselves into his soft feathers and he flapped his wings, rising from the lava.
It was certainly a sight to behold. The villagers watched in awe as the phoenix appeared. Ruby red liquid dripped from him, and what sounded like a chorus of angels was heard. He was starting his song.
Usually, he would fly all over Greece, watching as people bowed to him. Today, however, was the day he would leave the Earth in a great ball of fire. Today was the day he would die. He hovered over his volcano until he finished his song, then he collapsed, too weak to fly. The lava consumed his body again, and he fell into his own …show more content…
All phoenixes were the same colors; red, gold and orange, the colors associated with Helios. Not all phoenixes were exactly the same, though. This phoenix had known this ever since he arose from the ashes of the previous. He thought it was a common knowledge that was passed along through the smoke from herbs put in the death/birth nest.
As he thought of the herbs he would need to gather by sunset, his stomach gave an earth-shaking rumble. He once again gracefully arose from the volcano, this time swooping down to the valley below. It was filled with tributes to him: rare herbs that had to be grown for three years, odd-looking ones that smelled foreign - anything the phoenix could ever want to eat.
After having a meal, he collected myrrh, cinnamon, and spikenard, enough to make a large nest. This was part of the knowledge passed onto him. He carried the spices to the village, where a large oak tree resided. On the topmost branches he made a hollow ball, then climbed into it. He would spend hours there, and when the sun went down, burst into