The Sword and the Rose
My name is Darien Shields. I have no past, save a handful of fleeting memories, the world and its madness anathema to me. But amidst its turbulence and disappointments, I stood tall-- proud and defiant and one day I decided I’d had enough and cried, No more!
I had lived alone in this house after leaving the orphanage at seventeen, my only friends, Andrew and his annoying sidekick, Serena. She always collided with me on the street, knocking me down. When she wasn’t doing that, she would spar with me in a round of endless fighting and arguments. There I was, tired and hungry, on my way home, or starting the day in my dapper suit -- briefcase in hand, when -- bang - a cute little klutz of a girl with wide-eyed enthusiasm for life would almost knock the wind out of me. Despite her enigmatic disposition, I found her good-natured and sweet. And yes, I had to admit she was pretty, too. Serena and Andy were cousins. They would turn up on my doorstep -- pizza, burgers or whatever fine fare they could manage in hand, or hands as the case might be. At his side, looking like an excitable puppy with her strange golden hip-length plaits dancing about her body would be Serena.
I had to admit, after a hard day at the hospital, or classes at University, I looked forward to these impromptu visits. I would listen out for the sound of their feet climbing the veranda steps.
But I digress, now where was I? Oh yes, one particularly unremarkable afternoon, I interrupted the monotony and drudgery of my assiduous study regime and made myself a drink. Bored out of my brain, I decided to explore the old attic upstairs. It held so many memories, but these kept retreating into the shadowy world of a child's heartbreak and subsequent estrangement from the world that had taken all he loved away. But this dusty attic, with its delicate silvery lace cobwebs once played host to my childish imaginings. I had no family. After my parent's inexplicable disappearance and presumed deaths, the house and all it contained was mine. I took possession on my seventeenth birthday.
My eyes had grown accustomed to the light within the hallowed attic. It was then I saw it -- Zorro! His eyes staring through his mask back at me had an almost magical affect on me. From that moment forth, I knew that Zorro would ride again!
I rushed downstairs. Five minutes later, I returned to give the old theatre of my childhood a major makeover. After I had finished, I stood back and nodded approvingly at what I'd accomplished. It was magic! There he was, the mighty Zorro, blazon upon the wall, taking pride of place within my new shrine dedicated to my childhood hero - His horse rearing, cape flying impressively behind him, thrusting his sword into the night-sky -- lightning flashing all about him. I stood as humble supplicant before the glossy poster. In that moment, the new Zorro was born.
~*~
A blade for my enemies and rose for a lady, for her honor I would gladly do battle. But am I legend, you ask - an enigmatic retrogressive Gothic cowboy in tight black fitting jeans, silk shirt, mask and hat -- what? You've not heard of the unconquerable, roguish me? Shame on you I say!
Oh, my friends, but I am the real deal! Yes! I love Mexican food, fine fruity red wines and Flamenco music. And of course, the spellbinding maidens who hypnotize with their fluid movements and the soft whisperings of red silk skirts weaving their magic -- spinning as delicate feet beat their sensual tattoo. I learned to play acoustic guitar -- I'm not half bad either, though my cat, El Toro might disagree on that point.
After my epiphany, I read all there was to read about Zorro. Watched the television series and bought every DVD I could find. I grew up with horses at the orphanage, and this is an indispensable skill if one is to become Zorro the fox, so cunning and free!
Suburbia needed a hero, and yep, I'm it! But you mock me, oh how I flinch ... not! Excuse me while I take a bow and dismiss your derision.
I began my campaigns one dark summer's night after a brawl broke out in the main street. Bottles were hurled and innocent passers by, caught up in the mêlée. I did not hesitate. I dressed quickly, donned the mask and hat, strapped on my sword and climbed upon my towering lean black horse -- Zorro was back with a vengeance.
The local sheriff is my most avid fan. The men who once beat their wives and girlfriends think twice lest I pay them an impromptu visit and brandish my dependable blade, nicking their quivering chests -- there's nothing more satisfying than to watch a grown man, all of six feet, cower as his sphincters yield to his fear.
Violent drunkards and drug dealers, amongst other nocturnal vermin, are fair game as far as I am concerned. The town's folk love me. And yes, I have my own website: Zorroisback.com. I kid you not!
My many exploits amongst the good people of El Cordite are well documented. Am I a rogue? To some, it may be true. Since my tenure as the amazing Zorro, I have taken many young people under my wing. I guide and teach them as best I can, to stand against the power of darkness, this nemesis often unseen -- depression, loneliness, and heartbreak. Just the everyday difficulties a young person deals with on a daily basis, my reward.... The satisfaction of seeing my neophytes -- not so much seek to claim my mantle, though this would be nice -- no, I teach them to believe in themselves. I do this in order that they might take up the challenges life throws at their feet with courage and enthusiasm. To speak what lies within their hearts and be strong for others when it is required. And how did this come about? Because a 'cool masked guy on a black horse' took time to notice, to care, listen and believed in them. As I see it, this is a far greater achievement than I could ever have hoped.
~*~
Oh, but when it comes to women ... I was the flavor of the month, year and so it went. Even to this very day. But things were soon to change for me in a way I didn't expect. On the fateful night in question, Serena's friends came to a fancy dress party to be held in the town square where I was expected to turn up on Midnight, my black stallion. And who was I to disappoint them..., not I.
I remember how each of Serena's friends turned out in their Latin finery, in an attempt to capture the elusive heart of Zorro and his blood-red roses - my signature. After making my grand entrance, one of Serena's friends, Rei -- a stunning raven-haired beauty with the sultriest eyes one could ever wish to see, made it her personal mission to unmask me and claim my heart. And there was Mina, with her flaxen waves of velvet that swirled gracefully as she moved. Then there was the delectable Ami, a sculptured goddess, if ever there was. With her short blue-tinted hair, adding elegance to a strapless sapphire evening gown, she was truly alluring. Lita too, most pleasing to the eye, her sumptuous chestnut locks, fiery eyes, picture-perfect features and shapely figure was a delight to behold, but the ravishing blonde, petite and lustrous, the shy and radiant Serena herself in her sexy hot-pink flamenco dress and red high-heels who caught my attention most.
I danced with them all, and hearts throbbed and temperatures soared, but when I spun Serena into the small courtyard surrounded by statues of Psyche and Eros, I felt my resolve melt and allowed myself to be swept up in those amazing azure-blue orbs. It was but a kiss, a fragment of eternity, but in its unfathomable depths, I knew in an instant, my days as a masked hero might actually be numbered. I held her and feeling the softness of her body against mine, her soft voice and the touch of her hand - moon overhead showering in soft light. I was in love. She pulled off my mask. Grinned and said the words that brought me to the shrine of her heart, I was home. And
Serena, my sweet senorita casts her loving gaze upon my jet countenance, metaphorically dragging me off my horse to tread upon terra firma, and dance to her rhythmic castanets. I drink only from her cup of ambrosia. But retire ... hell no!
