According to mythology, Pollux was the divine son of Zeus. He was an immortal man with a mortal brother named Castor. When Castor was killed, Pollux pleaded with his father Zeus to let him share his immortality with his twin brother. Castor was, therefore, absorbed into Pollux, who selflessly reincarnated his brother. Together they formed the constellation Gemini. Pollux was, however, the brighter of the two. According to mythology, Styx is the name of a river that formed the boundaries between Earth and the Underworld. Gods and goddesses were bound to the Styx and swore their oaths to it. The Styx had the ability to turn anyone invulnerable and invincible.
Pollux Styx Rosier was the exemplar of his equivocal name. He too …show more content…
She was a mystery to him and he could never take up the courage to ask anything about her. But when his father took up drinking on a regular basis, he had a loose tongue and a habit for recklessness. One Tuesday afternoon his father was drinking, as usual, but in Pollux’s presence. Alcohol seeped in his system and he abruptly poured his heart out about the pain and sufferings his wife caused him. Pollux, being so young and curious, couldn’t help but squeeze questions out of his throat. “Why is mother like that?” He regretted asking the second he did, but his father’s response uplifted that dread. He told him the tale of the twin that she lost, his own brother, and concluded it saying, “She’s sick and needs our help.” Although Pollux had felt sadness before over his unfavorable living conditions, it was that Tuesday afternoon that caused true tears to course across his …show more content…
Like any other innocent boy would, he took it in because it looked just so miserable. He fed it scraps of his already desolate plate of food every day and organized a corner of the house for it to sleep. Pollux spent every chance he got playing with his pet and detested those hours in which his pet slept. One day he woke up expecting to find his pet eager and ready for attention, but that was not the case. There it was, lying on the corner he designated for him— lying still as dead. Pollux got impatient; he finally had it. He threw lamps in rage as far as his little arms could and he punched whatever was in sight. He was livid and the pain in his hands after smashing it against so many surfaces was forgotten. And still, the dog didn’t wake up! That’s when Pollux got a kitchen knife and poked it once, expecting it to feel the impulse of a pressing knife and awaken. But it didn’t. And so he poked it again— And then again, harder— and again! Right into its stomach! Drawing his happy little knife back, blood oozed from the dog’s body and was ridden all over the knife. Pollux panicked; vibrant red blood made a mess in the room and all he could do was stare at it, not knowing what to do. Eventually he picked the dog up and discarded of its carcass in the woods nearby. He returned to the house with blood smeared all over his shirt and his hands. He didn’t shed a single tear for the pet he grew attached to over those couple