CREATIVE WRITING · Summer 2025 · Torch: U.S.
cloth. He healed another man’s injured foot, bandaging it carefully. He advised a woman with a certain diet to make her heart stronger again.
After Asclepius finished, he was exhausted, but his heart swelled with sympathy, pride, fulfillment, and all the beautiful emotions as the men and women stood shakily, touching their head or their stomach or their chest. He bid them all farewell and a good recovery, but as he turned to Chiron, his teacher said, “Sorry Asclepius, one more patient.”
Asclepius’s head turned at the slight rustling at the door of the healer’s room. A man, glowing faint gold, stepped into the room, holding a small, intricately carved lyre in one hand and a shining, gold bow in another. Chiron left the room quietly as shock rippled violently across Asclepius’s face. “Father! What happened to you?”
He helped Apollo to his room, where the god lay quietly on the bed, his golden glow pulsing weakly. While Asclepius fed Apollo revitalizing herbs and ambrosia, Apollo told him about what happened. After Asclepius brought people back from death, Apollo had interfered with Zeus’s lightning bolt, making Zeus banish him and force him to serve King Admetos for one year. The king treated him terribly, beating him and ordering him like a servant. After his service, Apollo eventually found his way to Asclepius, hoping to continue teaching him the arts of medicine.
Asclepius listened intently to Apollo’s story, and when he had finished, Asclepius carefully helped him clean up. He fed Apollo more ambrosia then gently pulled the covers to his chin. “Don’t worry, Father. You can teach me tomorrow.” He took the small cup leftover from the morning and poured its remaining contents into his father’s mouth. Apollo smiled faintly and closed his eyes. Asclepius felt his heart swell with another emotion - love. As his eyes fluttered softly shut, he whispered, “Love you too, Dad.”
All that he was learning—every letter, every number, every story—wasn't just for himself, he thought; it was a way to shape his world, to understand it, and to make it better.
Winning 7/8th grade submission, 2024-2025 NJCL Creative Writing Contest
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