The Ashes of Santorin

With no place to sit, Maria knelt upon the floor before Konstantinos and looked into his face which was etched with deep lines, a film across his eyes.  She thought of the stupidity of their families’ long hostility – a neighbor, yet a man she never knew.  “I have come to apologize for my father.”

            He said nothing.

            “I am sorry you are ill.  My father was wrong to hurt you.”

            She was startled by the force of his voice.  “There is nothing you can say or do.  Now I am a broken old man.  I have no strength and no honor.  Your devil of a father died before I could avenge myself.  Now I live with a curse.”

            “I come to help you lift the curse and regain your honor.”

            “It is lost.”

            “Please.  Let me help you.”

            He returned his eyes to hers, then, lifting himself slowly, he shuffled with his cane across the room to a beaten dresser and removed a wooden box from a drawer.  Shuffling back to his chair, he sat and held the box on his lap.

Lifting the lid, he removed an object wrapped in rags and uncovered an old green revolver with a blunt, well-oiled nose.

            He held to her face.

            Her breath caught as she pulled back.

            Konstantinos glared at her.  “Apology is not enough.  I must be avenged.”

            He held the gun at her with a steady hand.

            “I know you must be avenged.  But not with me.  I have not harmed you.”

            “Your family has harmed me.  You are all vipers.”

            “But I am not the one who has harmed you.  How have I harmed you?”
            “You have built the monster Voulianos Village which brings the foreigners crawling like lizards across our sacred land.”

            “I have built nothing.  My hands are clean and my heart is with you.  Believe me.”

            He kept the gun pointed at her face.

            “Believe me,” she repeated softly.  “You must be avenged with someone else.”

            “Who then?”