The Murder of Oetzi
An unexpected visit in the night led to the devastating destruction of the Italian Alps village.
The wind gusted across the entire village as it took with it clumps of orange, red, and yellow crunchy leaves which spread the smells of decomposed leaves. While the hooting owls softly accompanied the soothing sounds of the winds. The trees that surrounded the village stood eerily still where most of them were naked and barren with only a few lonely leaves attached to their arms. The pitch black sky was illuminated by the full moon and many stars.
The hundred villagers slept soundlessly in their mud worn huts. Particularly, a well-respected man with the name of Acca, chief of the village, who should have been awake to watch over the village alerting his villagers if intruders were to attack. Unfortunately, a woman’s agonizing cry served as the warning bell instead.
A blood-curdling scream awoke Acca from his peaceful dream. “Wh-what was that?” growled the sleepy man slurring his speech. He yawned and rubbed his eyes with his rough hands out of habit. As he sat up on the ground he wondered whether the scream was merely an aspect of his bizarre dream. The side of his prominent, hooked nose twitched involuntarily which signaled that danger is near. He rotated his body slightly to the left trying to see if he could catch a glimpse of something that could prove whether the scream was real or not. While doing so the moonlight that beamed through the window revealed his appearance. He was half naked with a cloth wrapped around his crotch area. His appearance was completely contradictory. The strength of his jaw and roughness of his skin contrasted with the softness of his lips as well as the of his brown eyes. And despite that his body appeared to be robust and strong his fragile shoulders told another story. The overly long white beard and shoulder length hair seemed out of place when combined with the all the other features. Suddenly, a rush of cold air brushed his naked and hairy chest which sent every strand of stick up. He reached over the floor to grab his buffalo coat for warmth. Out of nowhere, another torturous screech pierced the atmosphere once again, but this time it belonged to a young child. Acca sensed the village was in great danger. Quickly, he searched the ground for his cherished, rusty copper axe. One of the many things he wished he had never inherited along with being the successor of his father. As he brushed his hand on the hard compacted dirt ground he grazed a cold, smooth handle.
“Chief Acca we are under attack!” cried one of Acca’s trusted servants.
He snatched his axe and followed him outside. Acca did not believe his own set of eyes. Bodies of dead children, women, and men laid everywhere. The sound of the constant screaming and sword clashing continuously rang in his ears. As he skimmed the battle field his eyes were fixated on the body of a boy around seven years old. The boy laid there motionless on his back against the ground, with his arms and legs bent in awkward positions. His mouth was slightly open with a trickle of bright red blood on the edge of his colorless lips. His crystal-blue eyes remained frozen and panic-stricken staring directly into the eyes of Acca. The boy was the second kill. Acca choked down his fear, ran back to his hut and grabbed a hold of anything he could wear and bring which included all year round shoes, food from yesterday, tinder, flint, animal skin coat, bow and arrow, medicine plants for first aid and store all the objects that couldn’t be worn into a knapsack that made out of animal skin. Under the chaos of the village he slipped past the intruders and panicked villagers into the forest leading up the mountain. Cold sweat dripped down his forehead into his brown wispy beard. His heart rate rapidly accelerated as he fled through the forest. The wind smacked against his face where it temporarily blinded his vision. Acca continued his dash up the mountain. He ran until the sky was pitch black once again without the moon and stars that once dotted the sky the night before. He collapsed on the ground because his muscular legs could no longer support his body. Fearing that the attackers would find him he pulled his body into a nearby cave. His heart beat finally slowed down to a steady pace. Acca took a flint from his animal skin bag and whacked it against a stone from the ground that set off sparks on the tinder which lit up the cave. For a moment, flashbacks of the day caused his heart pump hard again while his throat tightened. He who was the son of the mighty King Axthra flees from danger because of his own fear. Suddenly, his stomach let out a growl that echoed through the cave. He took out the grains and goat meat from his knapsack and roasted them on two sticks simultaneously. Acca watched as the fire danced around the pieces of meat where an alluring aroma that traveled up his nose. After a few minutes, he held one of the pieces of sizzling meat and ripped it into two. The white steam slowly rose up from the inside of the pinkish meat. The crispy, delectable flesh melted inside his mouth where it sent jolts of pleasure up in his brain. After he finished the meal he lay on his back against the chilling ground and stared straight at the cave ceiling. The light produced by the fire gradually vanish as the cave became darker and darker by every second. His eyelids were heavy and droopy as his vision started to lose focus. He saw only blurs of orange light as the last sparks of the fire extinguish. Every muscle in his body loosened up. His mind drifted off to the fulfilling meal he ate. He relaxed even more until he fell asleep. The rustling of leaves and shouts echoed through the cave. After Acca woke up, he saw man with a dagger in his hand grinning creepily toward him. He was ambushed. Acca rose to his feet and felt electricity pulsating through his veins. He figured out his two fates which consisted of being killed or killing it. Out of desperation, he yelled at the top his lungs while he ran at the man with his copper axe. To his surprise, his yell created vibrations strong enough that made the cave rattle. This gave him the chance to stab the man in the ribs before the man could react as fast back. But, Acca was unaware of his own injury until pain erupted in his left hand which caused a painful, burning sensation. He pushed through the pain because he knew if he didn’t run he would end up dead. The sounds of crushed leaves were heard only from a few kilometers behind. He clutched his axe firmly in his hand. “Is that you the coward chief of the Italian Alps? The man everyone in your village worshiped? Look at you. The son of Axthra flees from danger in the face of panic. How pathetic?” growled an unknown man which startled Acca. Other men appeared beside the unknown man one by one until Acca was surrounded. “Do you not remember me? The same man spoke. This man unhurriedly approached Acca. The man forcefully yanked him Acca towards his face. Even in the state of pure fear Acca did indeed recognize something oddly familiar about this man. It was the scar that ran along the right side of this man’s jaw. The man let out a horrible evil laugh, “You remember now huh? Yes the scar, I am the little boy who knocked on your fathers door twenty years ago asking for just a handful of food. The same boy who told you his whole family would die of starvation. But your fatheryou’re your entire village turned me away. Guess what happened? Everyone in my family died. “It was my father! Not me! My father! It was him who turned you down! Not me!” Acca wailed, The scar man snarled, “Yeah so, he was your father and you are his son. You are the only relative still alive. And you know what? Now, that I’ve taken care of all the villagers it’s your turn.” “Now!”
Suddenly, an object pierced Acca’s shoulder. An arrow. At first he felt no pain, it was only when he saw blood that he knew he was shot. Before long, a dull throbbing pain overtook all his senses. He saw movement but all of it was a blur. He heard the thumping of his own beating heart. “My servant will be rewarded greatly,” the scar man hissed. “Anyway, I can’t leave his arrow in your filthy body,” he held the back of the arrow and ripped it out of Accas flesh. The man took nearby rock the size of his palm and hurled it at the head of Acca to ensure his death. Almost immediately, blood oozed from his skull and trickled down the side of his face into his mouth. Streams of tears surfaced his eyes and mixed in with the blood in his mouth. Acca’s lungs gasped for their last breaths of air while his mind encircled his father’s words.
“Do not dishonor me.”
Moments later he died.