They never failed in
their chores.
Except,
Once.
Then, the fire died!
"Lad, you must never tell a soul of this task. As Zeus, master
of the universe, I make no mistakes. But, at an earlier time, I
took an action that I have since regretted. Prometheus, the
giver of fire, as you earthlings know him. I punished him
severely. Even to this day he suffers."
Zeus seemed to be downcast. "Anyway, the fire he gave to man
has burned out, flickered out, been blown out - whatever. Yet,
after careful thought, I have decided that man should have fire.
Prometheus must be freed to once again pass a lighted brand to
mankind. I can't free him, as that would cast doubt on my
infallibility. So, you do it. Off with you, now!"
There is a mountain, far removed from human haunts. There, time
after time, a tragedy repeats itself. Prometheus, the giant
benefactor to mankind, waits. Chains bind him to the mountain.
He waits and watches, watches the sky.
High in the sky, barely visible, a black dot can be seen.
Suddenly it falls, faster and faster, and as suddenly slows,
wings widespread. An eagle. A giant bird, with fierce talons,
merciless curved beak, strikes at the helpless captor.
Its talons rip, its beak slashes, and Prometheus gasps in pain.
The eagle tears at skin and muscle, at bone, and finally tears
from living flesh an organ. It flies away, the liver of its
victim in its beak.
Day ends, night passes, an lo the body of Prometheus has
healed.
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