The Wine, a Fight, a Death

"Get up you drunken bastard," I screamed at Bacchus. Still he didn't move. I'd seen him drunk off his ass more times than I can count. We've had a few good natured brawls before but this time was different. He really pissed me off, I didn't think I would kill him. You can't kill a god right?

Slowly his body starts to break down into grain and vines. The wind begins to blow aggressively form nowhere. Festival goers begin to surround me and ask questions I don't have the answers to. The joke isn't funny this time, he needs to stop playing around. A woman screams out in pain, taking the attention from me. We turn to see that she's gone into labor. Another woman follows, and another. Seemingly every pregnant woman around us is going into labor.

Those still drinking begin to drop dead as rain begins to fall and thunder claps. I lift a cup from a dead man's hand and take a large whiff. The wine has turned to poison and the party is no more. Bacchus is no stranger to playing pranks but this is too much for even him. I may have killed him for real. I've never seen what happens when a god dies, but this isn't normal.

"It was him, he killed our lord," a woman screams out holding her new baby and pointing at me. Soon attention turns to me. I don't have the answers to ease their wrath so I run as fast as I can.

The beautiful field we had been singing and dancing in moments ago changes below my feet as I run. The luscious green grass quickly turns to dust and mud. The vines filled with grapes have turned to dead brush. I'm not sure when the crowd stopped chasing me and turned on each other. I don't use the moment to rest, I put more distance between me and the frenzy. I'm not sure where I go from here, maybe India.

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