Creative Writing Julius Caesar

Assassinated, he was.
It was a lukewarm spring day; it smelt of flowers and freshly plowed dirt. I was at a small senate meeting when I had overheard Cassius and Brutus talking, planning. They were planning to kill our beloved general, Julius Caesar. I had not noticed that I was staring at them as if they had just brutally murdered my parents in front of me. They took notice, and they started walking towards me. My palms became sweaty and I could feel my heart pounding through my chest, but I was ready to fight, ready to kill. I grabbed my small copper dagger, warm to the touch from being tucked in my toga. Then, Cassius spoke, “If you are so eager to fight, why don’t you help us do something, not just us, but Rome?” I was outraged I could

not believe this fool was asking me to kill our general, and for what reason, if any at all? It was then that they convinced me to do so, Brutus finally spoke in a soft but bold tone, “We cannot kill him alone, we need strength in numbers, and I need you to help us.” I then asked for what reason did we need to kill the undefeated leader of Rome. In unison they answered, “He is becoming too powerful.”
That night they had asked us to meet at a building; I suspected it to be one of the other conspirator’s houses. I did not know, and therefore I did not care. That night we had planned on how to kill the leader. We had discussed on how we would fulfill the deed. Some suggested that we kill him during a gladiatorial showing since brandishing broadswords and bastards would not be out of the normal. Others suggested killing him during the beautiful and flowery Sacred Walk, which was one of his favorite areas to stroll around, usually alone. Finally, I suggested that we kill him as he sat at senate since non-senate could not sit next to him. The majority of the conspirators agreed to my suggestion and we ended up falling through with the plan.
About a week had passed since our last meeting, and today was the day; the day we killed the seemingly immortal Julius Caesar.

I had woken up ready, ready to lose my life it seemed. I was not afraid though. I trusted my fellow senate and myself. We were all ready. We had all decided to act as if a normal meeting was going to happen, but surely, this was not going to be normal. I had walked up to the large gray cement senate building, with pillars the size of one hundred year old trees. I saw the other conspirators arriving too. Then, I saw Julius. All of the senate seemed to have locked eyes with each other; we all knew what was going to happen. Caesar would soon be painted with wounds. Caesar was just about to sit down when one of the senators ran and stabbed him; he screamed in shock, his scream echoing, scratching my eardrums, you could see the terror in his eyes. Blood had immediately stained him and the other conspirator. It seemed as time had frozen. I was in shock but my instinct was to run and also do the same. All of the senate had the same instinct. Blood was everywhere, it stained our togas a crimson color, I actually did not mind the color it looked rather satisfying. I looked up and saw Brutus, and that is when Julius muttered, “You too, Brutus?” As he spoke one of the senate dropped his blade like a hammer on hot metal into the leader’s chest and that was it, he was finished,

dead.
I had not notice but the crowd watching us was in shock, about unleash an attack. The crowd was so huge, like a sea beating against us the beach. We had killed their beloved leader. With little to no reason, it was then that I had realized what I had committed. It felt horrible, but I brushed it off, some of the conspirators told me this would happen. It was grief. I looked into the crowd. Some of the men were and women were on the brink of tears. We had left them in an eerie state of shock and awe. They did not seem to know what to do. Then, came the screams and shouts. The Roman people were outraged they hated us with a passion. I could not agree with them more, we had killed a great general. I thought this was to help the people, I thought.
Brutus had broken a speech, to calm the crowd, which was roaring like a lion. He had told them that they were not real Roman people if they did not agree that Caesar was becoming too powerful for what we defined as a democracy. Our state was not meant to be ruled by one person but by the people. I agreed with Brutus, because he was right. It was then when Antony, Caesar’s right hand man, had walked in carrying the late leader. He stated, “He was too ambitious and suffered death because of it.”