The Forbidden Tale
Arindam Kalita

Who could forget that autumn night when this horrific tale began? From the balcony of my palatial suite, partially shielded from the torrential rain, I watched the skies bursting with the biggest display of lightning I’d ever seen. All of Rome trembled from the relentless thunderclaps that struck the Temple of Caesar.
When a senior senate official entered my room and said, “Gaius, you must come to the temple at once—it’s about your great-uncle,” that’s all my mind could comprehend. Not a single word afterward.
I couldn’t believe the reason I was given for the urgent visit. I thought someone had spread a rumor so outlandish yet convincing that no one could help being deceived by it. Only after arriving there and seeing it with my own eyes did I change my opinion.
A crowd gathered around the temple and stared at its base. A man with an athletic frame and deep-set piercing eyes stood there: my great-uncle, Julius Caesar, the former ruler of Rome. The people cried in joy and bowed before him.
I hurried up the stairs, but he only gazed back at me in silence, his eyes cold and distant, like the eyes of a statue. He wore the same bloodstained, ragged toga he had on him in his death.
A week had passed since my uncle’s resurrection. The city celebrated by calling it a divine miracle, which I had believed and cherished, yet no one spoke of the changes in him. He barely talked or ate, stayed distracted, had no interest in Rome even though it’s an empire now. At thirty-eight, I was more than twice the age I had been when he last saw me. I had so much to share, but he refused to talk. He spent his days in the dark secret chamber under the Temple of Caesar, built for disaster emergencies. He didn’t even confront me for causing the death of his wife and son.
When I consulted the Healers, they told me he was in shock and needed rest. That I should accept the gods’ blessing as it was. But I could feel something was terribly wrong. Instead of a miracle from Elysium, could this not be a visit from the Underworld?
The mysterious deaths of children in the city increased every day, and no one talked about it. Their lifeless bodies lay on street corners, drained of blood, their empty eyes telling a story that no one could hear. Whenever I brought up the subject at the senate, everyone dismissed it by saying it could be the plague.
But it didn’t make sense. The plague was eradicated long ago, and it didn’t take its victims like this.
I had assured my uncle that the senators who assassinated him were punished, and yet, these children were their descendants. Anyone could connect the dots and understand that he was taking revenge.
But why? And how?
It was wrong in many ways—these children were innocent. The uncle I knew would never dream of committing such a wretched act. I had fought beside him and witnessed him command respect from all, seen his mercy as a man of honor.
I tried to catch him sneaking out of the chamber a few times but never succeeded. I knew he left at some point. But when? Maybe that was why he requested no guards at his door.
When I asked my uncle why he wanted such isolation, his answer was a simple, “Peace.”
The Healers suggested the reason could be because he didn’t trust anyone after what had happened to him in the past. Although it made sense, still something wasn’t adding up. Whatever the case, I couldn’t let the people of Rome suffer because of his years-old vendetta.
On the eighth day after my uncle’s return, I organized a network of guards across the city to report any sightings of him.
I disguised myself to avoid any attention and paced around the Temple of Caesar, positioning myself on the route my uncle would take if he came out of the chamber. It was almost midnight—still no sign of him.
Where are you, Uncle? My muscles tensed, and my heart thumped with every breath. I glanced at the sky frequently for any indication from the guards.
Suddenly, a flaming arrow streaked across the sky from the northeast sector, cutting through the darkness like a blade. The arrow reached high, lighting up the rooftops before extinguishing midair. A clawing anxiety gnawed in my chest, which only elevated as I hurried toward the location.
Another arrow shot up, far away from the last one. Then a third, even further still.
How is he moving so fast? When did he get out? I ran faster. Sharp, biting gusts cut through and tugged at my cloak as if trying to rip it away.
Once I reached the source of the last signal, I crept through a dark, narrow passage that led to the location. Commotion came from the far end of the passage. I curled my clammy fingers around the hilt of my gladius. My senses sharpened, my ears strained, and my eyes scanned the shadows. The guard who had signaled the sighting lay before me unconscious, although his chest heaved lightly in a shallow cadence.
I paused at the corner and stole a glance. In the middle of the empty street, my uncle was crouched low, grasping a young girl by the head. She couldn’t be more than twenty. His mouth latched onto her neck, holding her firm.
I leaned closer to the wall, my curiosity piqued.
As his back faced me, I could only glimpse the girl. She gargled and struggled for breath, convulsing feebly. Then her eyes met mine, dilated with terror. She slowly parted her lips and winced in helplessness, but only a whisper escaped. A wet, throaty noise permeated the air.
Oh, no. He’s killing her. Cold sweat beaded on my brow. Bile surged up my throat.
Although I wanted to rush forward and help, my body was paralyzed like hers, horrified by this devilish creature who claimed to be my uncle.
Blood oozed from her neck and pooled on the ground, staining her tunic. Her pleading eyes began to dull, her convulsions gradually weakening.
I couldn’t stand there like a coward. Summoning every ounce of courage and tightening my grasp around the hilt, I stepped into the open. Just then, a bald man came from the right alley.
“What in Jupiter’s name?” he gasped, looking at them. His mouth hung open.
My uncle stood up, dropping the girl’s limp body to the ground. Her head lolled to one side. The flickering torchlight beside my uncle cast a twisted shadow across the walls.
“Don’t move. What did you do to her?” demanded the man, slowly walking forward and fetching a dagger from his waist.
My uncle spun and hissed at the man. The sight stirred a ball of fear deep in my belly. Sharp fangs protruded from his mouth like the blades of a gladiator’s sword, smeared with blood. The man tumbled to his knees. His jaw and dagger dropped, and his face blanched.
By the gods!
My uncle’s head twitched, and his nose wrinkled. He inched closer to the man’s neck but shook his head and stopped just in time. Suddenly, he abandoned the man and bolted into the night, moving at such speed that I couldn’t perceive which way he went.
The man fainted from shock.
I walked to the girl. Her skin had become pale, and her eyes clouded. Blood seeped from two red dots that marred the smooth curve of her neck as if pierced by sharpened thorns. Her death resembled that of the other dead children.
The next day, I couldn’t focus on my daily engagements. My thoughts whirled around the girl and the way the monstrous form had drained her blood.
He used to be a man of honor—not some cold-blooded psychopathic murderer. What has he become? How can I save him?
Disobeying my uncle’s orders, I went to his chamber after dawn and stood before the entrance. In the oppressing silence, a deep-seated anxiety enveloped me. I had no idea of his activities from the other end since the heavily insulated iron door didn’t let any noise escape.
Moments later, he opened the immense door. A deep, metallic creak reverberated, followed by a dull scraping against the stone floor. My pulse jumped to full alert. He paused midway when his eyes landed on me.
“Gaius? What are you doing here?” he rasped, his brows drawing together in deep, unmistakable distaste—the first glimpse of emotion he had displayed since his resurrection.
Although his presence instantly rattled my insides, I could not back away. I could not let him venture out onto the streets to kill another child.
I cleared my throat. “We need to talk.”
“Talk about what?” he grumbled. “Didn’t I make myself clear to not bother me with any business?”
That stirred a suppressed anger despite the circumstances. “You have tested my patience far too much, Uncle. I need to see what you have been doing.”
Before he could stop me, I stormed inside the chamber and surveyed the space. The vast room swallowed the torchlight sconces that lined at constant intervals, their flickering glow unable to reach the far corners. In the center rested a large bed with unruffled sheets, indicating it had not been used. The sturdy oak table on my left contained a heap of thick medical books, their pages ripped and underlined with notes. A pile of rotting food lay beside an unused fireplace. I stopped in my tracks as the stench of spoiled meat and moldy vegetables grew stronger.
He hasn’t eaten anything! His supply was a cover?
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I turned toward him. Neither of us spoke. The shaft of moonlight, entering through the half-opened door, dimmed. Torchlight from both sides danced across his face, my breathing the only sound piercing the space.
“You really shouldn’t have come here, Gaius,” he said softly, his voice sorrowful with a strained edge. “I suggest you leave immediately.”
Despite the chill his warning sent through my bones, I held my ground. “What have you been eating?” I asked, my voice faltering.
“We shall discuss it later . . . My health hasn’t been good lately.”
“Would you at least tell me what you are suffering from?” I pressed.
His empty eyes held a hint of desolation as we locked gazes.
“Let me help you,” I pleaded. “Just tell me what’s wrong, and I will ask for the best Healers in Rome. Whatever it is, I’m sure we can fix this, Uncle.”
“I’m afraid it’s not that simple.” He turned away. “I can’t tell you what it is, but it is bad.”
He had never seemed so distressed. I worried the situation was much more dire than I expected.
“Please, just leave me be.” He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples.
I took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “I know that if I do that, you will go to hunt in the city and waylay another senate member’s child. You will suck their blood, drain the life from their veins, and leave them to rot in the streets like discarded animals.”
He brought his hand down from his temples and faced me, shock written on every feature of his face.
“Yes, I know your secret. I followed you yesterday to see where you went and what you did. My suspicions were proven true. You are avenging yourself.”
“Gaius, it’s not how it looks.” He took a step toward me, but I backed away. “I am trying to control this affliction, but . . .”
“What affliction? How did you cheat death?” I asked what I had wanted to ask for a while.
“I have no recollection,” he replied, rubbing his temples again—more vigorously now. “Listen, I am just as confused as you are. I didn’t ask for any of this. I want to believe this was the gods’ doing like everyone says, but I am not sure myself.”
Silence stretched between us like the long shadows at dusk, growing darker by the moment. I still had many questions, but my mind failed to find the words.
“I am walking through that door, and you shall not follow me!” my uncle spat, his voice regaining its old commanding tone.
“Don’t,” I bellowed as he stomped toward the exit.
He did not stop.
“This is not a request!” I said curtly.
When he neared the door, ten of the most elite Roman soldiers appeared in a row and blocked his path. They had trained their arrows on him with deadly precision. Moonlight glinted from their bronze breastplates over crimson tunics while a steady wind ruffled their plumes.
“What’s the meaning of this?” My uncle turned to face me, his expression darkening.
“I am sorry, but I can’t let you leave,” I stated with determination.
His eyes narrowed, fury building behind them. “Oh, you’ve just made a grave mistake!” He grimaced, letting out a menacing hiss that echoed through the chamber. He curled his lips to reveal sharp fangs, and the veins in his temples engorged as his eyes burned with a crimson glow.
The air changed and became colder. A jab of fear crawled up my spine.
Suddenly, he turned to the nearest soldier, broke his bow in half, and wrapped his hands around his neck. Before I could react, he snapped the soldier’s bones and dropped his lifeless body on the floor.
The others released a volley of arrows, but his body moved in a blur as they were about to reach him. He twisted at the waist with an unnatural grace to dodge one arrow, bent backward for another to graze past his face, and tilted his head just enough for another to whizz through the air where his neck had been. Then he jumped to the ceiling and disappeared. The soldiers exchanged confused looks with each other.
“Take positions. You two—close the door and hold your ground,” I barked. “The rest of you, cover every angle and listen for movement. Just because he moves fast doesn’t mean he can’t be hurt.”
They did as directed. I drew my sword and looked for any sign of him.
A muffled footstep came from one corner, only to shift to another in an instant, then a hissing sound from behind. I observed the direction of the fire from the torchlight where it bent.
As I turned toward the soldiers, I realized one was missing. In the blink of an eye, two more disappeared. I gulped hard.
Once, I spotted my uncle behind a massive pillar in the form of two red glowering eyes. The soldiers saw it too and immediately unleashed another barrage of arrows, but none struck him. Instead, they lodged into the pillar and some skidded past it, clanking against the floor. He vanished yet again. Just as they prepared to nock more arrows to their empty bowstrings, two were flung aside. They crashed against the door with a resounding clang.
The next time he appeared, I charged ahead and swung my sword at him with all my might. But he was gone before it made contact.
“Drop the bows!” I suggested. “Stay close.”
The soldiers switched to swords. I wondered how effective that would be since my uncle knew their tactics, having trained soldiers in the past.
With a disquieting sound, another soldier was snatched into the darkness. Then another, and another. The instant I spotted his hands reaching for the next soldier, I brandished my sword again, but it cut through empty air and struck the floor, sending a spray of sparks across the stones. Before I turned toward the soldier again, his body slammed into the oak table with such force that it broke into countless splinters. Pages of medical books tumbled through the air.
My eyes darted everywhere, chasing the direction of the torchlight flames—right, left, far corners, near us. More shivers ran through me every time we missed.
“Show yourself. Don’t be a coward!” I grunted, frustrated by his mischievous gimmicks.
After the echo of my voice died out, the movements stopped, and a foreboding quiet fell over us. The last two soldiers glanced around, their swords raised and their eyes wide.
My peripheral vision caught a figure crawling on the ceiling. Just when I glanced up, my uncle jumped upon me and pinned me to the ground.
I slid a few inches backward, groaning. My sword clattered to the ground and skidded out of reach. He hissed at me with a feral rage, his fangs dripping with blood.
I couldn’t move. Waves of dread washed over me.
The soldiers shoved their swords into his back. The blades burst through his chest, staining his white toga with a flood of red. He let go of me, looked up, and winced. Seeing him finally defeated loosened the knot in my stomach.
But my uncle quickly reached behind, pulled the swords out of his body, and sliced them through the soldiers. Their bodies collapsed, fluttering and vomiting blood on the floor. My uncle’s wounds were instantly sealed shut.
Still on the floor, I stretched my hands for weapons within reach. My fingers closed around a jagged piece of broken wood from the shattered table. Without wasting time, I drew it toward his heart with all my might.
My trembling hands stopped at the last moment. He frowned at me and then at the wood poised over his chest, his face still twisted into a grotesque form with red eyes and bulging veins. He looked at the wood as I held it in front of his chest.
But then, I dropped it. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t kill the person who adopted me as his son and who gave me not just his name but his legacy.
“Let me help you,” I implored in a fragile tone.
He regarded me without a word.
“Please,” I added. “We will find a solution together. I don’t want to lose you again.”
His eyes changed back to normal, retaining a glint of recognition.
“Do it . . . before it’s too late,” he croaked in a distorted voice, pointing at the wood.
“I can’t.” I hesitated.
“You must, Gaius . . . this is the only way.” His hand reached for the wood and pressed it into my palm.
“But you don’t know that.”
“Just do it,” he roared, his voice divided as if coming from two separate beings. “For Rome!”
His eyes slowly turned red again, veins becoming more pronounced. I gripped the wood with both hands and plunged it into his chest.
The area around the wound immediately disintegrated and began to spread. His clothes fell apart in tatters, and his chest caved inward, collapsing into a swirling mass of dust. The golden decay reached his clavicles, faster now, racing up his neck and down his limbs. His glowing eyes dulled and flickered like dying embers.
“Thank you.” He breathed in a final shuddering gasp and closed his eyes before the dust consumed him completely.
“Goodbye, Father.” I choked, and my breath caught in my throat as I finally said what I couldn’t last time. Tears slid down my face, carrying the weight of emotions I could no longer hold back.
His body disintegrated on the floor.
~

Arindam Kalita
Arindam Kalita is a 26-year-old author from a remote and economically challenged village in India. Despite English being his third language, his unwavering passion for storytelling drives him to overcome any linguistic barriers. After finishing his Master's in Statistics, Arindam temporarily taught at a nearby college until he quit his job to pursue his writing career full-time.
He is the recipient of an honorable mention from L. Ron Hubbard’s Writers of the Future Contest, and his works have previously been featured in publications such as CreepyPod, The Afterpast Review, and The Up and Coming.