THE SON OF ATHENA was born on FEBRUARY 2, 1996 & is currently NINETEEN. People say he’s ALFRED ENOCH’S doppleganger.
❝ By the cracks of the skin I climbed to the top, I climbed the tree to see the world. ❞
When Oxford engineering professor, Arthur Archer started spouting stories about goddess Athena, the true mother of his son, administrators quickly had him sent to hospital. Although his loyal students protested, the man infamous for his intelligence and charity would spend the rest of his son’s adolescence being cared for by mental hospital staff. His son, Mason, often called ‘Jar’ by friends, struggled to find any comfort in the plethora of Foster homes he visited annually. The few friends he found refused to call him Mason, as he wished. Being compared to a jar insinuated so much about his own being. Transparent and frail; was that all that he was?
Mason possessed an intelligence that separated him from the rest of his peers and with it came a shyness. Words were always caught on his tongue; rarely making it past his lips. After all, the world was a complex place, as were his emotions and how could such complexities be appropriately articulated? Due to the short time nature of his stays and relationships he wasn’t placed on the Autism Spectrum until he was thirteen. Although he was low on the spectrum, having the disorder on his record generated more reluctance from perspective adoptive parents.
After fifteen years moving between foster and group homes Mason was adopted by his father’s past student who, now in his early thirties and married with one child, had idolised Mason’s father and made many moves to have him excused from the mental hospital. For little under a year, Mason felt appreciated. There were books piled high and warm coco always waiting for him. It was quite the change from constantly changing homes and living without security, hiding books beneath pillows and barely tasting anything warmer than left overs. Not only did he have a permanent home, but he was also encouraged to visit his father.
Arthur took advantage of each moment spent with his son, ensuring that Mason know as much about his godly parent and the fate that could easily await him. Soon he was the owner of many a book about Greek mythology, despite his scepticism concerning the matter. He often wondered if it explained the odd voices in his head that he considered a sign of madness. ‘Don’t die.’ Arthur would say after every encounter. The two words echoed in Mason’s mind as a Minotaur came charging through his adoptive home. No matter how many plates he threw, or the blows he landed with the kitchen knife, Mason couldn’t save his family. If not for the bite wounds and animal like markings on the corpses of the family, he surely would have been persecuted for their deaths. Although the courts tried to have the child convicted, evidence stood to prove that they had been killed by a bull. The mystery surrounding the case had Mason exiled and refused shelter at any foster home. Hence, he did the only thing he could think to. Mason fled to the camp his father and the little voice in his head always spoke of, with only the cash hidden in the roof and a small bag of belongings.
Inexplicably, Mason found an unfamiliar comfort in his cabin, surrounded by by family and general sense of kinship. Yes, he had protection and care in his previous home, but Mason had always felt he was cared for out of duty. His adopted family adopted him and cared for him for the love of his father, not the love of Mason himself. Within a year of living with like minds and genuine heart, the son of Athena quickly became a counselor, although he struggled to communicate with those outside of his cabin.
THE ROLE OF MASON ARCHER IS CLOSED.
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