Stories of the Gods pt 5
A retelling of the myth og Asclepius, Apollos son
Ancient Greece
Thanatos sliced through the sickly soul, the middle-aged man’s soul looking at his dead body with melancholy as his family grieved.
His young daughter taking it the hardest. She was only five years old, she was their miracle child. He and his wife struggled and prayed to the gods for fertility, bringing various deities offerings in hopes they could bear a child.
He was nearly 48 years old when his wife announced she was pregnant and brought their beautiful daughter into the world. She was his everything, his daughter became the reason to keep getting up in the morning, to bring home a better harvest, and better pay, to work to get her the best education and childhood she could.
But he was struck with illness, fast and lethal. His daughter sobbed so hard into her mother's side, hiccuping with the force of her grief. Her mother cried, holding her daughter tightly to her.
The man looked to Thanatos. “Will my family be alright?”
“In time. Ready to go?”
The man just nodded, letting the death god show him to the underworld.
Hades signed the papers of a few souls. The next one was a man, who died of illness.
Name: Georgios
Age:53
Status: Middle-class, peasant farmer
Marital status: Married
Family: wife and one daughter
Death: illness
The soul stood before him, concern on his face as if he was more worried about the life he left behind on earth and not where he might go.
Hades saw the worry in the man and sighed, he didn’t like sending the souls if they needed some closure first. “What is on your mind?”
The man jumped, so zoned out of where he was. “My family. I worry for them, my lord. I know Thanotos said they would be alright but my daughter, she’s only five, this is her first lesson of death.”
“It is necessary to learn and cope.”
“But so harshly? She is just a toddler, barely a child and she lost her father.”
“I cannot change your death and even if I had the ability I would not change it; death is inevitable and at some point, she has to learn to cope with it. I’m sorry the lesson is so harsh.”
The man opened his mouth to reply but his soul disappeared, along with his paper from Hades desk.
Hades just blinked, looking at where the man was and where the paper was.
“What just happened?”
On earth, Asclepius was passing through and heard the grieving cries of the child. He knew them, he’s helped them before. He went to the door, gently knocking.
The door opened and he saw her husband dead on the couch of their living room, behind her. She cried, wiping her face clear best she could, it was wet with tears that never stopped. “I tried to find you but the illness, it was taking him so fast and I didn’t want to be away too long. And she’s too young to send out alone. He passed away about an hour ago.”
He frowned, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder, blonde curls almost in his blue eyes. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
Suddenly the little girl came running, tugging on his arm. “Bring Daddy back!” She sobbed. “Bring daddy back Asclepius! please!” He kneeled down and hugged her. “I’ll see what I can do.” He stood back up and went to the husband's body.
It was pale, eyes open and vacant, limp as a dying leaf on a tree. He put his hands on him, a golden glow coming from them as he worked his abilities.
It didn’t take long before the corpse, now living body was awake, gasping and blinking in astonishment. “Where am I?”
The daughter ran over, hugging her father, sobbing into his neck. “Don’t leave me.”
He hugged her, but was still confused. He sat up with her, holding her close. He looked to Asclepius. “Won’t you be in trouble for this?”
He just smiled. “You let me worry about that, take care of this little girl, she needs her father.”
He could only nod as he decided not to question it, hugging his daughter so close with a watery smile.
Hades let the one soul go. One brought-back soul won’t upset the balance of the universe.
But slowly more souls kept disappearing on him, more papers gone. It became enough that even other souls in the hall of judgment witnessed it once or twice.
Then he realized he should have not let this go.
Before he could call for Hermes to send a message to Zeus about it. Thanatos was next to him in a second, looking angry. “We have a problem.”
Hades just looked over with one raised, dark eyebrow. “You’ve noticed?”
“Noticed? I sliced a soul from their body and he came along and brought them back, I witnessed it.”
Hades cursed. “Has anyone been able to talk to Apollo about this?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
“Very well. I will send a message to Zeus to have a talk with him.”
Thanatos crossed his arms, irritation still coming off of him in waves. “He better. And Apollo had better make him listen or there will be consequences.”
Hades sighed, he hoped consequences were not needed. Asclepius was a good kid, too nice for his own good which is probably what led to this little issue.
“Hermes!” He called, voice echoing and booming in the empty hall of judgment.
Hermes was there in a second. “Whatcha need big guy?”
Hades went to his desk, getting some paper, and using his pen. “I need you to deliver this message to Zeus, it’s of utmost importance.” He wrote out the message quickly and moved to the next one.
“And this one to Apollo. Just as important.” Hermes looked at the letters. Both in his hands now. “Two letters from you, on the same day? Something’s going on.”
“Asclepius is bringing the dead back to life.” He said, matter of fact.
Hermes' eyes went wide. “Ok…that’s not what I expected. How is he even doing that? Isn’t he, ya know, human?”
“I don’t know nor care how he’s doing it but that he’s doing it in the first place. Now please, deliver those messages.”
Hermes gave a little salute before disappearing. Hades looked over at Thanatos. “Do you think Asclepius will listen?”
“I hope so. I fear what Zeus may do if he doesn’t. Knowing Asclepius, it’s hard to stay mad at him. He does this with the purest intentions, wanting only to help the humans. It’s hard to see a loved one grieving and struggling with their loved one's death. Especially a parent's grief.”
Hades just nodded in agreement. Asclepius was a good kid, too nice for his own good but that’s what’s getting him into this mess. He’s blurring the boundaries between life and death and not thinking of the consequences.
Nyx showed suddenly to the two. “I’m sure you two are aware of what is happening.”
“That Apollo's son is resurrecting the dead? Yes.” Hades stated.
Nyx gave a weak glare, angry at the situation. “The fates are livid. The only reason they have not cut his thread is because of his father.”
“Hades sent messages to both Zeus and Apollo, it’s being handled, mother.”
Nyx softened, just a bit. “Good. I hope it can be resolved quickly.”
On Mount Olympus, Apollo was playing some music on his Lyre while checking in on his followers. Some of the offerings manifested near him, like jewelry and artwork, and music, others food offerings that he would snack on in between notes and songwriting.
He was munching on a sun cake when Hermes showed up. He swallowed his bite down and smiled. “Hermes, hey!” But he noticed the sour expression on the message. “What’s is it?”
“You’re not gonna like this.” He said as he handed over the letter from Hades. “There’s another one for Zeus as well.”
Apollo sighed, putting his Lyre down, taking the scroll, and reading.
Your son is resurrecting the dead, talk to him, please.
Hades.
Apollo groaned. “Fuck..and Zeus probably has the same message huh?”
Hermes walked over to the plate of suncakes. “Most likely.” He went to grab one but was shot with an arrow, a small, little one but still enough to form as a warning. “Ow!”
Apollo just gave a playful glare, putting his bow back in its little pocket dimension.
“Well, that’s what you get for taking food that isn’t yours. Let’s go to Zeus. Together; I don’t trust you around my offerings.” Hermes mock gasped. “Rude, I would never do such a thing.” He says as he manages to stuff a suncake in his togas pocket.
Zeus was laughing heartily at a joke Dioynous made. Zeus was feeling bored and called on the wine god. Of course, he came with the best wine and the best jokes.
Zeus was a little drunk when Hermes and Apollo showed up.
Dioynous immediately smiled at them, bringing two more wine glasses into existence, floating by him. “What a surprise! Here, have a drink.”
Hermes got the letter out, and Apollo gently turned down the wine. “Unfortunately I don’t come with good news.”
Zeus frowned. “Whatever is the matter? Is everything alright?”
Hermes just handed Zeus his letter.
Zeus read it over.
Asclepius is resurrecting the dead. Please work this out.
Hades.
Zeus huffed. “Not a man of many words. But this is a problem. Apollo, what do you plan to do about this?”
Apollo sighed. “I will talk with him. I knew his abilities as a healer surpassed me but I didn’t know he was raising the dead. I will talk to him immediately, I promise, this will not happen again.”
“It better not or there will be dire consequences. For both of you.”
Apollo frowned, bowing to him quickly. “Yes, father.”
Hermes just watched, Apollo left without any goodbye or last word, it made him worry for the sun god and his son.
On earth, Asclepius was helping mend injuries from a farming accident. When he was done, the people thanked him profusely, the injury would have been fatal if left untreated. When he turned around he saw his father, looking irritated, arms crossed.
It wasn’t too often his father visited him directly, and this visit was not looking to be a good one. Apollo sighed, he hated having to be so stern and angry. “We need to talk.”
Asclepius walked over to him. Apollo sighed heavily, already feeling guilty for the lecture. “How many humans have you brought back to life?”
His son looked away, fidgeting with his hands, running his hand through blonde curls. “Just a few.”
“Do not lie to me.”
“I’m not.” Asclepius pleaded but his hands shook with anxiety.
Apollo sighed, again, he wasn’t going to make this easy, was he? His eyes glowed a soft gold and was easily able to see past his lies. He glared as he walked closer.
“40 is a few?”
“Many of them were infants-“
“That doesn’t matter, you are playing with the natural laws. You can’t do that.”
“What am I supposed to do if a mother comes with a dying baby?”
“You let them die!” Apollo shouted but immediately regretted it.
His son looked devastated. He walked closer. “I’m sorry for shouting. I know what I said sounds cruel but the fates have already predetermined their death. I know seeing a child or infant die, the mothers grieving…it’s hard. It’s an unimaginable pain they are going through but you cannot bring them back simply for the sake of their grief. It’s blurring the lines between life and death and if they know you can bring them back, they might get reckless, they might stop caring about injury or illness because you can save them. That’s not the natural order of the world and you know it.”
“Even for Stillborns?” Asclepius asked, sounding so small, reminding Apollo of when he was still a child, at least the times he could be there.
“Even for stillborns.” Apollo said softly. It felt so cruel to say out loud but it’s the natural order of the universe.
Asclepius just nodded. “I apologize, I did not think they would miss a few infant souls.”
“And adult souls. And yes. Infants may not go through hades but every soul is missed when they are brought back; none are too small or unimportant to go unnoticed.”
“What about animals?” Asclepius asked curiously.
Apollo shook his head, blonde waves swishing with the movement. “None. All die at their time. Alright?”
Asclepius just nodded, looking sad. “Alright, I will follow what you say.”
Apollo sighed, relieved the talk was over. “Good, I don’t like having to lecture. But since I’m here, why don’t we talk, tell me what you’ve been up to, other than breaking the laws of nature.”
Weeks and months went by, the talk seemingly has worked. Hades and Thanatos were happy about that, no souls were popping away, and no papers disappearing.
The issue was taken care of, never to have to bother Zeus or Apollo about it again.
But soon he saw a few souls disappearing and it forced his hand to send another message to Zeus. Hermes looked at the letter with a frown. “Again?” Already knowing who it’s going to.
Hades just nodded. “The boy has not learned.”
Hermes just took the letters, all playful demeanor and energy gone, knowing the message won’t bring good news and even bring devastating consequences. He left swiftly.
The next day, Hades got a paper and was about to ask the name to conform the next soul when he saw the name.
Name: Asclepius
Age: 23
Marital status: single
Family: Apollo, father, Coronis, mother
Cause of death: lighting strike
He froze, seeing the name before properly looking up and seeing the soul of Apollo's mortal son in his hall of judgment. He’s honestly not sure how to process him, it’s such a unique and worrying situation. By reading over the paper he knew exactly what happened but it filled him with dread; what does this mean for Apollo? Has he been punished as well? Why did Zeus choose death over other punishments? Does Apollo even know?
“Uh Hades? Sir?” Hades looked at Asclepius. He spoke. “I apologize, I was not expecting you.”
“Thank Zeus for that,” He said curtly, arms crossed. Hades could see he was very much like his father, bratty attitude and all.
“Yes, I see. I want you to know I did not want this for you when I first reported the missing souls, I only wanted you to stop. Why didn’t you?”
Asclepius looked away from him, feeling a mixture of shame and pride. “I just couldn’t not do something. You have not heard a mother wail of grief or a child begging for their parent back.”
Hades sighed as he signed the paper. “That is not your judgment to make but I admire your need to help at any cost. Go through the right door to Elysium Fields."
Asclepius just nodded and walked through the door.
Hades could already feel the shift in energy among the deities, something big was going to happen, he just hoped Apollo and Zeus survive it but knowing Apollo's abilities and temperament, Zeus should be scared.
He was just about done for the day too when Apollo showed up. His energy bristled with anger and grief.
He tensed, seeing the sun gods rage. “Apollo-”
“Don’t you dare give me any tone, where is my son?” His voice controlled but Hades could see his vibrating energy, could feel it as one feels the sun's rays on a particularly hot day; oppressive and heavy.
“In Elysium fields.”
“Why did you even take his soul? Why could you not tell me first he was down here?”
Hades walked down from his desk, walking closer to Apolo. “Because I do my job, unlike your son.”
Apollo already had his bow pointed at the king of the underworld but had not let go of the arrow, the arrow glowing gold, ready to strike as flares of the sun shined around him in his rage.
“You didn’t have to take him! You could have called for me!” Hades saw the tears in the sun god's eyes, falling down his face, his anger covering the grief he feels but Hades knew the grief well, he knew how heavy it was, the void it left as if it was sucking in any joy you may see, leaving you hollow.
“I could have tried to fix this!”
“You did, he listened for a while but his heart is too good. You should feel proud of him for wanting to selflessly help others, even knowing there will be consequences. Now please, lower your weapon.”
Apollo lowered his bow, much of his anger present still, even as tears wet his face. “I’m sorry. I know this is not your fault, you are not the reason he’s dead. But who is? Did his paper say?”
Hades looked away. “His cause of death was getting struck by lightning.”
Suddenly all the passionate rage was back, his bow held in a grip that would have broken a mortal bow as his energy started flickering little sun flares around him, threatening to melt the metal that was around the hall of judgment.“That bastard.”
Thanatos didn’t make himself known, not while Hades was trying to calm the sun god. But he heard it all and Apollo left suddenly. He walked toward Hades. “Why did you tell him?”
Hades looked over. “I didn’t, I only stated his cause of death, it’s not my fault if he put the pieces together.”
Thanatos chuckled weakly. “You are correct. I suppose Zeus has had this coming. I took his soul and it was unexpected, to say the least. although the boy needed punishment, I do not agree death should have been the punishment.”
“Zeus could have easily taken his abilities away, this was too much. Perhaps now he may think before he acts.”
Zeus was on his throne, as usual, chatting with several other deities, Ares included, Aphrodite on his lap when Zeus was struck by one of Apollo's arrows, dropping him to the ground of his palace with force.
He cried out in pain, it dug into his chest, burning a hole inside him, the skin around it turning a deep red and starting to blister; a sunburn, but then he felt ill, weak.
No, sun poisoning.
He knows this is only because Apollo wanted to send a message; if he had wanted him dead, he would be dead.
Ares was already standing at attention, spear and shield ready as he saw Apollo on his chariot, his voice wasn’t booming or thunderous but it was heard all the same.
“How dare you kill my son! I gave him a talk, and he listened! You could not have asked me to deal with him again?!”
Zeus was in the middle of getting up, feeling queasy when Apollo shot another arrow but Ares deflected it, leaving a melted dent in his shield as he yelled back. “Leave him alone! He is no threat, you got him! What more do you want?”
Apollo glared down at them, his energy still flickering little sun flares around him. “I want him to fix this. I want him to apologize! He could have taken that ability away but he killed him instead! Like the lazy, bastard he is!” He shot another and Ares deflected that as well, leaving another melted dent.
Zeus grumbled as he got up, taking the arrow out with a pained grunt, the skin on his hand burning with the effort. “I apologize for nothing! Your son gave no heed to your talk, nothing would have stopped him! How much longer should he tempt the fates? How many people did he have to bring back before you stopped him?!”
Apollo stared down at him, an arrow pointed at Zeus' head, but Ares was his defense. He couldn’t bring himself to shoot and kill the lightning god, it would bring a war that could last hundreds of years. He would never apologize. He was too prideful for that. Then he had an idea.
He lowered his weapon. “You’re right father,” He said with sarcasm heavy in his voice. “But you took someone precious from me, seems fitting I do the same to you.” He then took the reigns of his chariot, whipping the straps and the swans took him off into the sky.
Zeus growled, using the remaining strength he had to throw the rest of his bolts at him in a rage. But Apollo dodged them and was gone. He turned, looking at the Olympians who had gathered either to help or watch. “ARTEMIS!” He shouted.
She was there in a second, having been in the middle of checking in on a few of her followers and patrons when it all went down. “Yes sir- what’s happened to you?” Seeing his red, blistered skin and shaking hands.
Zeus stared her down, face red with anger. “Your brother is about to do something reckless, go stop him and bring him back to me!”
She just gave a nod. “Yes sir.”
She left, grumbling and wondering what the hell her brother was up to.
He flew to the Cyclops's domain, where Zeus' bolts were forged, bolts that killed his son. He was out of sight easily, one eye meant less depth perception and more blind spots, and Apollo took great advantage of that, drawing some of his most powerful arrows, forged from the sun, he took a steady and sure aim, relishing the moment Zeus finds out it’ll be a long time until he can get his bolts made again, and let go.
It shot right into the Cyclops head, through its temple. It was such an intense heat it melted the creature's eyeball. The others saw and he shot at them, never missing his mark and all dying in the same fashion, eyeballs melted and heads bursting from the intense heat as they collasped.
“Brother stop!” He heard his sister, turning, he saw her in her own chariot. “Why are you doing this?”
Apollo was remarkably more calm now that his revenge had been taken. “Zeus killed Asclepius. He was bringing mortals back from the dead, I talked to him but he didn’t stop. Apparently, Zeus saw it fit to kill him instead of finding other options.”
“He is dead?” Artemis asked, in disbelief.
Apollo nodded, tears starting to roll down his cheeks as the anger he felt slowly left him, making him feel hollow and cold. “By Zeus’ hand. He had too good a heart, he kept bringing back loved ones who passed away, unable to hear the wails of mothers whose children died. He would bring back stillborns sister.” His voice cracked and Artemis got close enough to jump into his chariot, her own eyes filling with tears as she hugged him close.
He held her tightly, almost tight enough to bruise. Artemis held him, letting him grieve with no judgment and for all the time he may need. She let a few of her own tears fall silently. When he moved to right himself, his tears stopped, she wiped her own face with a heavy sigh. “I’ve been ordered to bring you back to Zeus.” She said, looking down at the dead bodies of the cyclops, heads burst from the intense heat of the arrows.
“I know.” He said quietly, he wasn’t sure what Zeus had in store for him but it wouldn’t be good, he knew that. He chose not to use any divination to find out, honestly didn’t have the mental strength to do so, he didn’t care what Zeus did, none of it would bring his son back to life.
Artemis did as she was ordered and brought him back. When they arrived. Apollo started to walk toward the lighting god but an invisible force, forced him to his knees but Artemis was in front of him quickly, an arrow pointed at Zeus and a protective anger on her face. “You will let him stand. Do not force him to kneel before you when you do not deserve it.”
Zeus was about to object to her but Ares and Athena both backed her up. And those two often never agreed on anything. They were flanked by Artemis, protecting Apollo from any more of Zeus Wrath.
He let up and allowed Apollo to stand.
The others moved as Apollo stood, still staring Zeus down.
Zeus glared but Apollo could still see the signs of the sun poisoning he had given him earlier; his skin was red and heated, his chest where he shot still blistered and peeling and he could see the weakness as his hands trembled. “You promised this wouldn’t happen again.” Even his voice was weak.
“I am not going to supervise his every waking second. I talked to him, I told him there would be consequences. If I had known the consequences would be his death I would have done more than a talk.”
“How could you not know? You have the power of divination, of prophecy, you could have easily seen what was going to come.”
“I don’t use that all the time, you know the amount of energy that takes just for a few minutes of it?”
Zeus shook his head but nearly stumbled before righting himself, glaring weakly at him. “You have been a thorn in my side since the day you were born, always having an answer for everything.”
Apollo just sneered at him. “That’s because I know everything before it happens or did you forget?” He stated, knowing it would only stoke Zeus ire more.
Zeus growled, stepping closer to the sun god, his son. “I have had just about enough of you! For your impulsive attitude and inability to control your son-“
“That’s rich coming from you!”
“One year, on earth, as a feeble, mortal, human!”
Apollo blinked, nearly gasping. Even the deities behind him were in shock, his sister the most concerned as she went to him, her hands on his shoulders, a small attempt to keep him here. “You can’t be serious, what of my followers, my patrons?!”
“Too bad! They will see you in one year!”
And with a snap of his fingers, Apollo was gone and Artemis was left staring at the spot he once stood.
Based On Her Beautiful Old Story...
This is a short story based on the writing prompt entitled “A writer’s fictional characters start appearing in a real-life coffee shop”. I happen to have written a tiny novel, so this particular writing prompt sounded very interesting. I decided to try it out.
Once upon a time, long ago, lived a beautiful young woman called Sarah, who was quite a mystery. Sarah was the intelligent sort, and she had a rather different way of going about things.
Sarah liked to wake up in the morning and look outside her window. She saw from her window pane the world passing by. She had a beautiful habit of waking up early in the morning and whispering a small prayer to who she thought was God. She had learned through a personal journey about who she thought he was, and bringing the reality of good and beautiful principles into her life, was one of the things that prayer in the morning helped her do.
She liked to wake up in the morning hour, and also do a little bit of morning writing. Sarah Ritten would also get herself a cup of steaming hot coffee so that she could feel more awake and energized. The Coffee was a wonderful thing in the morning, and it was the perfect addition to a bout of morning writing.
Sarah Ritten wanted to put some divine and inspiring messages into her writing, and she did this effortlessly. She was naturally the picture of innocence and budding wisdom and this showed flawlessly in her writing as well. She felt she had a message to share with the world, like many people.
So many people are born with something to say, with a mark to leave on the sands of time. It’s so wonderful when every person that ever enters into this life, fulfills the purpose for which they were born.
Sarah was good in her English language skills and when she tried to translate her abstract thoughts into words, they were indeed a beautiful picture to behold. She had written a book, a year ago, that had a couple of good reviews. This book, if promoted in full ardor, would do well she thought. Her friends thought so too.
Sarah had written a book called ‘His Lingering Perfume’ which happened to have only two main characters in it. The characters entitled ‘Him and Her’ were not named until the second chapter. The book had an intelligent narrative, that made many people fall in love with the protagonist, of the book. A wealthy young girl, but in a state of denial. Who was also a tomboy, who hated make-up. Who had a secret lover who visited her at night through a secret route only the two of them knew about?
Sarah felt in all honesty that she could relate to her character, which in part was based on the childhood version of herself. Everyone needed to read/hear/think about a relatable heroine, now and then to add color to their existence. Why did people follow the lives of pop stars and other celebrities on social media?
For the same reason that Sarah tried to bring life and meaning to the characters in her works of fiction. To Sarah, every book she wrote was like an unborn child, and the characters were indeed precious and also ‘relatable’.
That morning Sarah spent close to little more than two hours refining the blog article review she was working on. The review article was about a book she had read recently called Paradise Found. Sarah knew that being an author who liked to write about her dreams wouldn’t bring her anything substantial. She was also a content writer on the side, who wrote blogs to support herself and her way of thinking.
She decided she had worked enough on what seemed to have been an article that had great potential. She looked in her bedside table mirror and stifled a yawn. She tied her long loose hair into a messy but stylish bun with a scrunchie and decided to head out to her favourite Cafe in the city. A quaint little Cafe where many like-minded individuals, who also happened to be writers sat down for a hot beverage and something tasty to eat.
She got out of her tiny suburban apartment which was looking pretty tidy that day, because she had been following this routine of late. She was aware that many young women who lived alone might have had a messy existence because it was after all their place to start with. However, there seemed to have been some benefits to the self-love and care she was showing herself, and the routine seemed to be making things fall into place. As she locked the door, and stepped out into the pavement, she heard the birds sing.
It was a lovely day, and she seemed to feel like everything was blessed and truly beautiful. In her heart, she thanked God that “she was fearfully and wonderfully made.” She may have been an eclectic writer but she believed in Biblical wisdom and tried to apply it to her life. The more she did this, she felt that God’s blessings were manifesting in her life and everything she did.
Sarah Ritten walked fitfully to the cafe which was 10 minutes away from where she lived. Everything seemed to work in her favour that day, which is something everyone secretly wished for, she was aware. She adjusted her coat and sunglasses and bought some toasty warm bread to have along with the usual coffee which was the regular fare at the Cafe she was so acquainted with.
She reached the cafe and sat down in her favorite corner. Next to that corner was a beautiful French window, that offered a beautiful view of the world outside. She looked outside, without fear of feeling like she was staring at anyone because people on the outside could not see her.
Behind her was an ornate picture with a gold frame. A quote by Jean Jacques Rousseau that went like this “I feel an indescribable ecstasy and delirium in melting, as it were, into the system of being, in identifying myself with the whole of nature.. Nature made me happy and good, and if I am otherwise, it is society’s fault.” Beautiful words, but a mystery no doubt.
Sarah felt that it was a good thing this picture was where it was.
She didn’t want to do any more writing at the cafe, since she needed a little break. She decided instead that she would scroll through her social media feed. Being the sort of person who loved writing, her feed was eclectic, but it had relevant and beautiful things she looked at, especially on Facebook, rather than just following the lives of people she knew. These things gave her inspiration to write rewarding things even more beautifully.
She was so caught up in her scrolling that she barely noticed a tall slender woman entered the cafe and sat at the table near the other window. Sarah Ritten did not know this woman, but for some reason, the woman who seemed exotic drew her attention.
The woman though tall and slender with flowing black hair, had freckles and sipped her coffee in a manner that would make anyone wonder if something was bothering her.
She wore extremely tight skinny jeans that showed off her figure, and her nails were done. But there was an aura of youthful recklessness about her.
Sarah couldn’t help but take a liking to her. She seemed very relatable, raw, and awkward. Like the character in her book ‘His Lingering Perfume’ had come to life. If Sarah Ritten had it in her to direct a movie about her book, she would cast this woman as the lead role. Sarah wondered if she was seeing things.
Sarah tried to continue to scroll through her social media feed but was a little distracted by the unkempt but beautiful young woman. She overheard from her phone conversation that her name was ‘Ramona’ and she could tell by the way she talked that she came from a wealthy family.
Sarah Ritten may not have been wealthy but she had a writer’s mind and a writer’s thoughts. For some reason, she liked this girl from afar and felt she was a lifelike version of the character in her book. Almost as though the character had decided to step out of the book, and present herself in real life.
Sarah couldn’t help but look in the direction of this beautiful but awkward young thing. With her tight jeans and bright pink lips, it was her eyes that told a story. She seemed to be the character of her book come to life. There she was, in all her finery, the main character of ‘His Lingering Perfume’ sitting down there, being herself, waiting for her male equivalent in attractiveness to come to visit her from the window.
Sarah took a liking to her, because well, Ramona did have an intriguing personality.
Sarah spent longer than usual at the bustling cafe that day. She scrolled through social media and tried to avoid looking too much in the awkward but relatably good-looking young woman’s direction.
She suddenly saw something that could be a line in a sequel to her book. She thought that ‘His Sexy Hair’ could be an apt title for the new book. Sarah went home that day, feeling wonderful that she met someone who was potentially the lifelike version of her book’s character.
She was happy that she also got the inspiration to write another book based on this woman. She knew for sure this book had the potential to be the next big thing. Some kind of top-selling novel. But one that was based on her beautiful old story.
Psych Eval
When I was twelve my aunt taught me how murdering was different than wanting to murder someone.
She said that if wanted to kill the president that was ok, as long as you didn't do it. I don't think there is anyone I've truly opened up to. I don't know why she said that. But I look back at it now and by god I hope its true.
"Have you ever lied to a psychiatrist?"
"No."
"Have you ever lied to anyone?"
"A few times but only small things. Like, whether the milk had gone old," I shifted in my seat and smiled, "or whether I had eaten cookies on my bed." The psychiatrist sitting across from me smiled. "That's good. It makes sense. We all lie about those things. I'm asking you whether you lied to your mom or other important people in your family about... " at this he paused and bit his lip, as of not sure what he should say. "hurting them?" I finished. He head dipped to the side and he made an expression that seemed to express remorse and resolve at the same time. He had wanted to say did you ever lie about wanting to kill them, but thought it might be inappropriate because I was in a emergency psych eval for suicidal tendencies and other things…
"I'm going to go talk to your mom for a few minutes and I might speak with your dad. I was hoping he might get here soon, maybe clear things up." I nodded and smiled. When he left I curled up in a corner. I stared at the window; the only thing that wasn't black or white. I think when I'm bored, so I started thinking. This room's colors had been chosen to calm the inmates. It was green (the chair) but it was a grass green that wasn't too bright so it wouldn't be distracting.
I rehearsed what I would say in my head, not really worried about it though because I knew I could get away with anything. I replayed the scene in my head. My little sister was in the car. My mom was blaming me for hurting her. She parked in a parking lot. She was angry. I was angry. She stepped out of the car, supposedly to calm down. I saw her call my dad. His name and number showed up on the car Bluetooth. I heard every minute of what they said. My mom was concerned that I was going to hurt her. She said I was hurting Elly emotionally by having 'this conversation,' in the car in front of her. I buried my head in my hands. I knew I was hurting her, but it was worth it. I had to protect myself and I had to protect her. My mom was dangerous and I knew it. My dad mumbled about not doing anything extreme and then she started talking about taking me to a mental hospital. “Is she taking her medications?” my dad asked. “Yes,” my mom responded, “but they're not working.” Now she turned it off speaker, realizing what was going on. “I'm taking her to (a mental hospital).” she said, closing the door from which she had just unplugged the speaker from the car. A few moments later I saw her hang up. She took some time to calm down, take a few breaths. During that time my little sister asked me a question: why do you hate our mom?
"I don't hate our mom. I just have some angry feelings towards her."
"then why don't you love her anymore?"
"I do love her." I said. If I had been a more emotional person I would almost cried. Instead, I concocted a response that would help my sister understand as much as she could. "I said I hate mom. I didn't say I didn't love her. You can feel both those things at the same time." I smiled, hoping she understood I wasn't trying to be the bad guy.
That memory brought up emotions in me I couldn't comprehend, things I knew all too well: hate, fear, envy, hope, love, desperation. That last one was the worst. It made me do terrible things I didn't regret.
The man I had been talking to earlier came back in the room. "How are you doing?"
"Good," I said, nodding and showing just enough emotion for him to think I was scared. "Just been sitting here."
"Kind of boring in here, isn't it?" he smiled and half shrugged, apologizing for the inconvenience. I knew why it had to happen. I had been suicidal before. I knew anything could tip you over the edge.
"let's discuss why you're here."
"Yeah..." I said, squirming a little bit. A flash came back to me of me practicing my emotions in the mirror, learning to smile and hide my tears. I had gone outside a second later. My mom didn't notice anything was wrong. A week later I wanted to throw myself out a window. Back to the present. He was staring at me as if it was not possible to understand how I could be here if I had such a perfectly normal mom and dad. White parents, rich house, everything seemed right What was going on? Counter: I wasn't always rich. I remember arguments about what to buy us at Christmas, asking if they could afford gifts at all. I remember my dad being so tired after two days at work, no breaks. I remember him getting angry because I wan't scared enough when he yelled. He was frustrated I had left stuff on the floor. Even at seven I knew he wasn't wrong, he was just tired. I played the little girl, waited for him to stop crying. Told him I was sorry and said I just wanted him to come home, I just wanted a hug. It was all true, but it didn't match the expectation for disappointment or the plan I had when I sat myself on the couch in full view of the door. Get out of your head! I told myself, you have a job to do. Lock in. Luckily the emotion in my eyes played into the part well. Girls weren't supposed to be strong. I knew what he was already expecting. Everyone is human, even psychiatrists. I smiled to myself, knowing I could out play him, and started speaking. "My mom is wanting me to stay at her house and I want to go to my dads. I was upset because she wouldn't let me go away." I buried my head and tucked my legs against my chest. A sob (deep breath) caught in my chest. He nodded. Go on, he seemed to say. "We were in the car. So was my sister." I squeezed my eyes shut, rocking back and forth in the single, small chair I was given. "And ," (gasp/hiccup) "I was asking my mom... to let me go home. I hate being at her house. She's not a real mom. She's... she's... she's..." I buried my head deeper and started trembling for lack of a better word. He just nodded and stared at me. "What happened after that?" he asked.
"She said she would take me to a mental hospital if I didn’t stop"
"Stop what?"
"Stop..." I took a deep breath and made myself presentable again: back strait, arms by my side, voice in normal range. I took a deep breath. And then another one. I looked outside. "She wanted me to stop yelling in front of Elly."
"Why?"
"Because she didn't want me to hurt her!" I carefully let my face dissolve and show every emotion I felt. "I want to tell mom how much she's hurting me, but every time I try to Elly’s in the room and I can't! Or she finds some other excuse, like..." I waved my arms around as if searching for something. "My brother." I flopped down. He looked at me, concerned I had said I was being hurt by my mom. "It's nothing serious!" I reassured, "Just emotional stuff." Here my voice got weak, as if I didn't think I should be upset. "I just needed to change something. I can't keep just let her hurt me without say something about it." I ducked my head in shame, "even if it does hurt Elly." I stared outside the window again. He was trying to let me rant, I knew it. Get it out if your system. I heard someone say in my mind. I wasn't letting him fix me. This was a delicate game; be upset enough not to have to go back to mom's house but be sane enough not to be locked up. The man across from me shifted, fidgeting almost as much as me. I knew what this meant. He was a nerd and his text book of psych advice wasn't helping him now. It was just bare bones human emotion, my territory. I just stared at him for a while. (people get uncomfortable when you stare. I learned that one not too long ago) He asked me a few more questions. I said my mom was bad and I was just a girl trying her best in a world not meant for children's idea. He went back to my mom and dad's room. I heard mumbling through the door. I didn't want to listen. I knew they'd be arguing and worst of all: I didn't want him to think my mom was sane.
I was let out of the room after about thirty minutes. I didn't have a clock. They had taken all my devices away. Me and my dad went home. We stopped by my mom's car on the way out. My dad saw the pile of trash sitting in the passenger seat. "What happened?"
"It didn't hit her. I wanted to go to your house and said if she didn't let me I would keep putting things in the passenger seat. From a few seats back. On the highway."
"Did you tell the psychiatrist about this?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"I didn't want him to know I was hurting my mom."
"Elisabeth, you didn't hit her with anything." he said, staring at the sky in bewilderment.
"Yeah, but we were on the highway and Elly was in the car."
"How does being on the highway make it dangerous?"
"I could have distracted her and made her crash. That's why I didn't hit her with anything. I think my aim is pretty good. I'm surprised I hit every shot." I surveyed the pile, noticing its height. My dad looked disgusted. "What is it?" I asked. He waved at the seat and slapped his hand to his forehead. I knew what he wanted to say. A trash pile that reached two and a half feet high. I remember my cousins making fun of me for how messy our car was: food on the floor, three week old garbage. I remember my mom getting upset at me for not cleaning it out while she 'cleaned the kitchen'. I remembered the other time she said that. I had made the yard presentable while she watched Tik Tok on the bar stool. I could see it through the window. The whole two hours of it. She asked me to help clean the kitchen when I came inside. No, I had said, disgusted. With five minutes left she was still scrolling as she put things away and yelled at me for my inadequacy. I didn't come out to talk to the guests that night. She still won't admit she did something wrong. Just a few hours ago she had denied the fact that that scene ever occurred. She denied that I was suicidal. She denied that covid was gone: keep them in the house forever! She had told me she wanted that. Said she wanted us to live with her forever, never growing old. Our husbands could move in with them and we could all sleep together. I shuttered. "Do you want some Indian food?" My dad asked. "Yes." I nodded. The thoughts were closing in; a knife to the chest. Ignore them, push them back but they keep coming anyway. Three years later and I still dreamed of the end. I still remember every day at school when scissors sucked me in. I remember the terror I felt when ever those urges wouldn’t quit.
“May I Speak With Your Supervisor, Please?”
He didn't like the priest's penance given him.
"Can I speak to your supervisor?"
He waited. A man in a purple cap excused the priest, opening the sliding window.
"Hello, I am Bishop Cranston."
"Bless me. It's been 24 years since my last confession."
"You found Father Killough's penance unacceptable?"
"Yes. I didn't really sin. I wanted spiritual guidance for losing faith in the institutions of Catholicism. I've got no problem with Christianity, itself."
"No faith in, say, the Mysteries--like, the virgin birth of Christ?"
"Yea, that stuff. I mean, Christ's way shouldn't rely on these legends." He seemed offended.
"Double Fr. Killough's penance."
"I want your supervisor then."
A cleric wearing a red hat replaced the bishop, sliding open the window.
"Peace be with you. I'm Cardinal Taylor. I understand you're both unhappy and unforgiven."
"Yes, Your Eminence. I'm losing my blind belief in lots of things. It seems like we're forced, under pain of mortal sin, to believe in magic."
"Miracles, right?"
"Magic. Voodoo. Like holy water. The incense thing you swing. Blessings. Transubstantiation."
"Triple Father Killough's penance!"
"Your supervisor, please." Someone wearing a white cap entered.
"Your Holiness--didn't expect you!"
"Yet, I'm here--for my flock when they need me. I'm Pope Francis."
"I know who you are. Maybe I can get to the source of the problem. Can't I just follow Christ's way?"
"Nothing wrong with that," he said.
"Oh, thank God."
"You're only 2 levels away from doing just that. Ha ha."
"Ha ha. So I won't go to Hell if I don't believe Jesus cured lepers?"
"Oh," the Pope said. "That might be problematic."
"Is there even a Hell?"
"Maybe. For you."
"Your supervisor, please."
That's when Jesus Christ, Himself, came in.
"Now I'll get a straight answer. Jesus?"
"Yes."
"Your church. A lotta tangential things have been added. By men. Yet, the punishments are divine. Man-made rules--with divine consequences. Were those zealots from the Dark ages even qualified to do that? Can't I just follow your way?"
"Nothing wrong with that."
"So I'm good?"
Jesus paused.
"Why don't you just be a sport and say the three crummy Hail Mary's and let it go? I mean, would it kill you?"
Stories of the Gods part 4
Thanatos sighed as he got to his latest death today before he started again tomorrow. He was in a house, not particularly large or fancy but he could tell the person he came to guide had been struggling mentally, which would make sense, the young woman was just a few heartbeats away from being pronounced dead and her soul waiting for him to sever from her body.
Name: Vanessa Anne Miller
Age: 22
Cause of death: Suicide, slit wrists
Timeline: on-time
Marital status: in a committed relationship; healthy
As he read the summoned, floating paper over, he already could smell the blood. He teleported inside the room, after mentally preparing himself.
Although suicide deaths are never scared of him, it still saddens him every time he has to guide one. They always regret it, especially if they can see their family finding their body.
But that wasn’t what he was met with.
The young woman's soul was sitting on top of her body, knees curled to her chest as an inky, black shadow figure of her whispers and mutters into her ear.
The demon saw him, grinning menacingly, teeth pointed and sharp as it spoke to the young woman’s soul. “He’s going to take you to hell, you belong there, it’s where failures like you belong.”
The young woman just sobbed into her knees. “I was just so scared..”
Thanatos glared, getting his sword, more than willing to fight for this young woman’s soul, he pointed it at the demon. “You will leave this young woman alone.”
The demon just grinned at him, standing, growing taller than the God of Death, thin, wispy shadows still attached to the young woman, feeding off her suffering. “We both know you cannot fight me. You have no power other than severing souls; and you know that if you sever her soul now, I will torment her for all eternity.”
Thanatos nearly growled as he held his sword, ready to fight, even if it might be futile. “You will leave her be demon!” He swiftly sliced at the tendrils of inky black wisps but it it only went through, it did not sever. The demon laughed heartily. “Your sword only works on human souls. She is mine, and I will never let her be.”
Thanatos swallowed, it was an incredibly rare occurrence a human’s emotions and energy made an actual demon. Although these demons are vastly different than true demons.
These ones are what humans call “inner demons.” Demons that manifest from humans' darkest times but it could take years of a human going down a dark path for one to even start developing.
It was this demon that also possessed the ability to affect deities, the only one that can, although not very much, they can still make a deity weak or even sick if they manage to latch on too long, the cuts from their claws unable to heal.
The demon moved as fast as Hermes, swiping at Thanotos, leaving dark gashes across his face, ripping some of his robe open, and bleeding that should have healed in seconds but his unique demonic energy prevented that. He nearly fell backward before he transported himself to one of the few that can help fight against this threat.
He doesn’t often teleport while moving, almost never needs to.
So when he teleported while falling, he ended up falling on his ass and back, in Ares's domain on Mount Olympus with a thud and feeling like all the air he had in his lungs left on impact.
Air he technically doesn’t need but it was still an awful, uncomfortable feeling.
And the deep scratches didn’t help, they throbbed and continued to ooze red blood mixed with the inky blackness from the demon's claws, across his chest and face. His robe ripped a bit but his face caught most of it.
He heard running from the God of War, spear ready for whatever intrusion came to his domain. He stopped and nearly threw his spear to the side when he saw it was Thanotos, injured severely.
Ares went to him immediately, yelling to the small crowd of other deities that rushed around to the scene. “Hermes!” Hemes was there in a second, nearly gasping at Thanoto's injuries. Ares didn’t waste time. “Get Apollo! Now!”
Hermes couldn’t take his eyes away, Thanotos face was horrific, bleeding red and black, nearly painting his skin. they could be injured like that? But they’re gods, there should be nothing that can hurt them-
Ares gripped his tunic, making him stumble and nearly ripping it with his strength as he growled. “Get Hermes now before I make you target practice!” Hermes just nodded shakily before leaving.
Ares went back to helping the God of death. “My friend, what has happened?”
Thanatos winced as he sat up, hand on his scratched-up face, trying to dull the pain, it was so sharp and blood leaked through his fingers. “An inner demon manifested. My next soul was a suicide victim.”
“Those exist? I had only ever heard of inner demons as a metaphor.”
“That’s real, and they’re a danger to us. My sword is useless against it.”
Suddenly Hermes and Apollo were back, Apollo looking just as worried, kneeling down to him. “What..the fuck happened? We haven’t had these kinds of injuries since the Crusades.” He got to work, placing his hands over-top of the deep gashes and starting to heal them.
“A soul of mine manifested an inner demon.”
“Shit.” Apollo cursed. He knew them, he hasn’t had to fight any but he’s aware of their existence.
“Yes. I’m useless against it. My sword will only sever human souls but if I sever the soul with the demon still attached, it will torment them for eternity, no matter where they go.”
Hermes gaped. “Wait? So not even Hades would be able to detach it before sending them to their afterlife?”
Thanatos winced as the wounds healed, it wasn’t pleasant. “No. It’s why I came here; Ares, Apollo, I need your help.”
Apollo frowned as he continued to heal, a golden light coming from his hands. “Why do you need my help? You got Ares.”
Ares looked over. “Do not sell yourself short, you are a very capable and adaptable fighter. You make archery look as easy as breathing. But I do share your confusion; why do you need two fighters there? Is this demon really that powerful?”
“No. I need someone to talk to the girl's soul, the demon might be able to be taken down by your spear but it’ll be easier if she stops believing what it says. I can help but I thought Apollo's positive energy would be best suited.” Apollo moved his hands, Thanatos now totally healed as if nothing happened.
Suddenly Aphrodite was joining them, a golden goblet in hand and concern clear on her beautiful face. “Here, drink this.”
Apollo moved as Thanatos took the goblet, seeing it was simple water, ice cold. “Thank you.” As soon as the water touched his mouth he drank it down fast. The cold temperature calmed and grounded his mind.
Aphrodite frowned. “What happened? Everyone is gossiping about you.”
Ares helped Thanatos stand as he spoke. “An inner demon manifested.”
Aphrodite looked to Ares. “Wait? They’re real? I thought they were only a human’s musings on their traumas?”
“They’re very real but they’re incredibly rare,” Apollo stated, he continued, his blonde eyebrows pinched in stress. “You can go hundreds of years before one is powerful enough to manifest. But just because they’re rare doesn’t mean they can’t fight. They can hurt us and the injuries from them won’t heal on their own, they can corrupt us as well, although none have been successful in full corruption, it’s still a possibility.”
Hermes shivered at the thought. “That’s scary.” Thanatos couldn’t help but agree. “Most definitely. I attempted to fight it but it obviously didn’t work. My sword is no use, and I knew that. I was stupid.”
Ares gave a proud smile. “It’s never stupid to fight for what you believe is right. Take us to them immediately.” Thanatos just gave a nod. “Apollo, are you ready? I have to warn you, it’s messy.” Apollo gave a weak smile, not looking forward to this but can’t sit by while an inner demon is manifested. “ More than ready.”
Aphrodite came over, handing over the spear that the God of war had thrown in his worry. “Here love, you’ll need this.” Ares smiled at her, taking it gently from her. “Thank you.”
“Be careful, ok?”
Ares grinned at her, his large tan hand winding into her blonde curls. “When am I ever careful?” he said, leaning in and kissing her deeply. Apollo huffed, moving to them to gently pry them apart. “You can do that when we get back.”
Aphrodite and Ares blushed. She went to Thanatos and gently took back the goblet. “Be careful as well.” Thanatos blushed deeper, her beauty was like none other and always caused some reaction even to Hades himself. “I will. When you two are ready, touch my shoulders.”
Apollo placed his hand on his shoulder immediately. Ares followed as well on his other shoulder, his hand nearly taking over the joint as Thanatos teleported them to the soul.
They appeared in the bathroom, the smell of blood hung heavy in the air, giving it a tinge of copper.
Apollo took in the scene before seeing the demon, nearly cuddling the young woman's soul, whispering in her ear. He reacted before Ares could, getting his bow and arrow and shooting at the demon. The demon hissed in pain as it hit its head, looking over at the sun god who had another arrow prepared. “Get the fuck away from her,” He said with a growl, the energy around him nearly vibrating with his righteous anger. Thanatos and Ares taken aback by the hostility. It’s easy to forget that under his positive and sunny attitude is a God that even the most powerful on Olympus feared.
The demon just grinned, gripping the young woman's soul harder, making the soul whimper in pain. Before Apollo could shoot another arrow, Ares had already speared through it, making it cry out in pain, a weird whistling sound as Ares lifted its impaled body and threw it across from the bathroom and into the hall. “Apollo, help her now while I have him!”
Apollo and Thanatos went to the soul. Apollo had to really calm himself, seeing the soul so in pain from that demon her trauma, made him crazy with the need to protect. He placed his hands on her head gently, as if holding her head, making the girl's soul look in his eyes, his eyes faintly glowing gold.
Thanatos watched, he was using his divination to truly understand why she did this and why the demon manifested. Thanatos could hear Ares and the demon fighting, see the demon was still attached to her, even so far away from her soul, the black whisps still connected to her.
He looked back and saw Apollo look just as angry as before when he shot his arrow into the demon. Thanatos worried. “What do you see?”
“Trauma. Sexual trauma. From the church she was in.”
“Should I get Jesus for this?”
“Yes. She’s so traumatized from her church but still is devout to him. She is also pregnant. It’s why she decided this.”
Thanatos froze. “What do you mean? Why would she if she knew she carried life?”
“Because it’s out of wedlock. And her parents are still very much deeply, cult-like, religious. If they knew they would disown her, and shame her from the rest of her family and siblings. That with the purity camp she was sent to as a teen where she was molested by the very men preaching purity, it was too much, the demon has been manifesting since her childhood.”
“Can you keep her alive, until her boyfriend gets home?”
There was a sudden cry of pain from the hall, Ares crying in pain before grunts of fighting resumed. Apollo looked at him like he was out of his mind. “Are you serious? She’s a hair away from death, this is supposed to be her time. We would be in so much shit with Zeus.”
Thanatos pleaded. “Please. I know I’m asking for a lot but she doesn't deserve this, her baby doesn't deserve this. You know her boyfriend will be coming in that door, you know when, can you just keep her stable until she gets help?”
Apollo used his divination again, eyes glowing golden, seeing how long it would be. “He’ll be home in 27 minutes and 15 seconds… fine. I can do that. While I do that, you get JC, she probably would want to see him more than us.”
Thanatos smiled before standing and teleporting away.
Apollo went to her body, seeing past the soul that didn't react much to him. His hands went to her body, carefully over her chest before doing what he could to heal her. She slit her writs, sat in warm water, she bled out, her heart barely beating but it was enough for him to work with. His hands glowed as he worked on keeping her heart beating and blood clotting.
Thanatos came back, Jesus with him in his white robes. He frowned with concern. “How did this happen?” He asked softly, kneeling down by the tub to her soul that looked numb and lost. Even with the battle Ares going on, cries of pain echoing from the hall mixing with the demon's cries of pain, the other deities paid no mind.
Apollo answered first, irritated with the lord's people. “Your fucking people. They traumatized her to the point that when she got pregnant she tried to kill herself.”
Thanatos frowned at Apollo's snappish attitude. “Apollo, he cannot help what they do.”
Jesus looked back at Thanatos. “It’s alright, he is correct. Unfortunately, many of me and my father's followers are not true believers, using my word to justify their sins and hurt others.”
He walked closer to her and held the young woman's hand as her soul looked lost. “My child, can you look at me?”
The soul looked up, nearly gasping. “Jesus? My lord?”
He smiled softly. “Yes, my child.”
Her soul's eyes filled with tears. “I am not worthy. I’m a sinful, dirty person.”
“Only I can bring that judgment on you. You are not sinful or dirty; you are simply lost. Lost in your head, your trauma. you are worthy and you've been so strong, fighting off your inner demon for so long.”
“I’m going to end up in hell.”
“No, not if I have anything to say about it. You are going to live and you're going to get help.”
“But it’s too late-”
“No, do you see them helping you?” He looked over to Apollo who was less than a foot away, using his healing to keep her alive.
The soul looked over, seeing Apollo for the first time. “Who is that?”
“That's Apollo, he’s keeping your body alive until help arrives.”
“But they're false gods, aren't they?”
Apollo just gave a little glare to the soul. “Well this false god is keeping you alive.”
The soul smiled weakly at his attitude, finding it charming. Thanatos saw the wisps of darkness from the demon becoming weak as she interacted with them.
Jesus smiled as well. “And want to know something crazy? A god of death wants you alive. You must be so important that death itself wants you alive.” He pointed to Thanatos behind him. Thanatos looked, pulling his black hood back. “Hello.”
The soul just waved. “Hi. why didn’t you reap my soul?”
Thanatos walked closer to her. “When Apollo found you were with child.”
The soul looked away, not feeling worthy enough to even look death in the eyes. . “My parents are going to disown me.”
“Let them,” Jesus said. The soul gasped. “But they're my parents, I only have one set of that, my baby would grow up with grandparents, without my family."
“Your child can grow up without that and they will be fine. Your parents drove you to this. They do not speak for me.”
Thanatos heard the front door open and heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. “He's here.”
Apollo sighed. “Thank Christ.” Jesus and the soul just looked over at him. The soul just laughed, the last of the demon's wisps dissolving away as her boyfriend rushed in, seeing her barely alive body. “Oh fuck, Vanessa!”
The boyfriend felt for a pulse, feeling a weak but steady pulse. He got his phone, dialing 911.
Ares walked in, looking like he battled hell itself, gashes all over, bleeding but smiling in victory. “The demon is no more!”
Thanatos smiled. “Good, now that she's getting help we can go.”
“You can, I can’t. I move, she dies.” Apollo said. Still healing her even with exhaustion clear on his face. “When help arrives and stabilizes her, then I will leave.”
The soul watched her boyfriend, hating how panicked and grief-stricken he was. “I did that to him?”
Jesus frowned. “You did. He loves you very much. He will make a great father.”
The boyfriend ran to the nearby closet in the bathroom, throwing everything out until he found the first aid-kit. It had a tourniquet but only one. Apollo watched as the human took her arm, putting the tourniquet on, twisting it properly. He made a makeshift one with a towel and did the same to her other arm. He was impressed that the human knew such knowledge and wasn’t in any medical field as a career.
Thanatos saw how exhausted the sun god was becoming, direct healing takes a large amount of energy. “Do you need any help?’
Apollo tried to smile at him but his eyes drooped with groggyness. “I’ll be fine, not the first time I’ve done this.”
Jesus was about to move from the soul to help and give him energy when Ares knelt by him, placing a bloody hand on Apollo's shoulder. “Have some of my energy my friend.”
A white glow came from his hand, transferring to Apollo, his eyes a little less tired. “Thanks.”
The soul just watched it all. “I can’t believe you're all helping me. I should be dead.”
Jesus smiled at her. “When you come out of this, I want you to do something for me.”
She smiled over, her eyes adoring him. “Anything my lord.”
“Leave your family. If they treated you so horribly, in my name, I do not want you to stay with them.”
“But won't that hurt them?”
Jesus gave her a soft, serious look. “After all the hurt they gave you, it’s the least they deserve. Leave them, raise this child with love. They will have a good home with you.”
The soul nodded. “If you command it, I will follow it.”
There was suddenly the sound of rushed footsteps, several paramedics now on scene.
Her body was suddenly being moved, on a stretcher. Her soul followed her body to the ambulance. Once the stretcher was in the ambulace, a medic was doing chest compressions to keep her weak heartbeat going.
Only once she was in the hands of the paramedics, when chest compressions were done did Apollo stop healing. The four deities having followed the medics to make sure they would be good to go. Apollo nearly collapsed if Ares hadn’t caught him but the sun gun groaned, seeing all the gashes and lacerations the war god had all over. “Fuck, didn’t she say be careful?”
Jesus sighed. “This was certainly an interesting day. Thank you, Thanatos, for sparing her.”
Thanatos frowned. “If it was just her I could have after the inner demon was purged but with child? I couldn’t.”
Suddenly the clouds above them went dark with heavy rain, and thunder rumbling. Apollo swallowed. “We are in so much trouble.”
Jesus looked at them astonished. “You risked the wrath of Zeus to save her?”
Apollo glared weakly as he stood on weak legs, pointing to the death god. “Blame him, he talked me into it.”
“Well thank you all for your help-”
Suddenly the three Greek deities were teleported via lighting, startiling Jesus. He was about to offer to heal Ares and Apollo before they got taken by lightning bolts. He sighed, hoping they'll be alright before going back to his own domain.
The three were bolted to Mount Olympus where Zeus sat at his throne in his palace. Thanatos saw they were in the throne room, although calling it a “room” is an overstatement. It was a long corridor with golden pillars standing on clouds with no actual wall and fuck was it sunny, it was glaring off the clouds as it glares off snow.
Zeus huffed. “You have one minute to explain yourself; why did you lot interfere with a pre-determined death?” Thanatos walked closer. “They were acting on my orders. I needed them to help with an inner demon that had manifested, they were supposed to help purge the demon; Ares to battle and distract it while Apollo helped her to not believe what the demon was saying. But we found out she was pregnant and I could not take her soul, not with one so undeserving inside her. I pleaded with Apollo to help keep her alive until help arrived. He agreed to help, on MY orders. He tried to talk me out of it but I couldn’t take her soul knowing that.”
“And who told you she was?”
Apollo raised his hand and before he could tell his side of things a lighting bolt was hurled at him in less than a second.
He screamed as the electricity ran through his body, making him collapse to his knees. The other two went to him but were stopped by another lighting bolt; a warning, as Apollo cried in pain. Zeus walked closer to them with a glare, looking down at Apollo as he spoke to Thanotos. “It is not your job to decide when to take a soul, it is your job to take them, period.”
Ares stood in front of the Apollo, shield and spear in hand with a bloody glare. “I am not afraid to fight you.”
“Why fight for friends that won’t even stick by you?” Ares was confused but turned, seeing nothing, Thanotos gone. But he was back within a second, with Nyx.
Nyx glared as she walked up to Zeus. “What exactly are you doing- Apollo!’ She ran to him as the last of the lighting made its way through his body, making him collapse with a pained groan. She helped him sit up as Zeus spoke. “He helped aid your son into saving a soul he was supposed to take.”
Nyx looked back at Thanatos. “Is this true?”
He looked away, feeling ashamed. “Yes, mother.”
Nyx looked back at Zeus, standing up and standing next to Ares who had a renewed viger with Nyx here with them. “If my son did indeed not take a soul that he was supposed to, I’m sure he did so with more than enough reason.”
Zeus glared, not wanting to make her too mad. “He broke the laws of life.”
“And it will right itself, just as it always has. If it was more than a few deaths he chose not to take, I would worry but one? Really? Are you really that egotistical you cannot fathom the reason why he wouldn’t take a life?”
Zeus huffed. Nyx glared. “Go back to your throne and rule among your clouds. Leave my son to me. And if you attempt to punish my son again, I will rain an eternal night on you.” With that, Nyx got them teleported away to Hades, knowing Hermes was there and able to get a healer faster than she could.
Hades was about to feed Cerberus, Hermes chatting away about something or other when the three of them teleported in, taking in the moment before reacting. Ares looks like he came out of a war, Thanatos looks more than a little depressed and Apollo looks like he may die if he were mortal, which worries him the most. He rushed over. “What is this? What's going on?”
Nyx ignored him and saw Hermes. “Hermes, get a healer, now!”
“Who? What healer?”Hermes asked, feeling just as panicked
“Any, just whoever is closest.”
Apollo spoke weakly. “My son…Asclepius is in …Elsyuam fields.”
Hermes just nodded shakily before being gone in a second.
While he was gone Hades kneeled down to Apollo who was leaning against Nyx. “What happened?”
Nyx glared weakly. “Zeus happened. The bastard couldn’t take that Thanatos can think for himself.” Hades looked to the death god. “What happened?”
Thanatos took in a deep breath. “I had a soul to get, young woman but there was an inner demon that manifested. I got Ares and Apollos help. Ares to fight it and Apollo to talk her into not believing what the demon says but he used his divination and found she was pregnant and that was why she killed herself. Knowing there was a life inside her and she was still between life and death, I talked him into helping keep her alive until help came. Zeus was more than a little unhappy-”
The sound of the sound barrier breaking cut him off as Hermes returned with Asclepius with him. Asclepius went to his father. “Fatehr! What happened?! Ares? What is going on?”
Hades spoke. “Enough talk, heal them, please.”
The son of Apollo nodded and got to work, healing his father first. He worried, why was he unconscious? Why was Ares so hurt?
Finally, Apollo came to, groaning and able to move, his energy coming back to him. “Thank you, my son.” Once he was healed he could stand on his own. He saw Ares, starting to look wobbly on his feet and Apollo stopped him. “I got this one.” Asclepius nodded as he stood. “Now what exactly happened here?”
Thanatos groaned, he did not want to have to keep explaining it, he already felt guilty enough for what Zeus did to Apollo. Hades thankfully took over retelling the story.
Hades paced, a righteous anger filling him. “One saved soul will not bring about the end of reality,if I could I’d march up there and burn him to ash.”
Thanatos frowned. “None of this would have happened if I had just taken her soul, perhaps it was better I did.” Hades softened and walked closer. “Do not listen to that egotistical bastard, that woman was between life and death and would not disrupt any balance. He just can't stand when things don’t go according to plan. You made a decision and I believe you made the right one.”
“But at what cost? Apollo got hurt because of me.”
“Because of Zeus. did you throw the lighting bolt at him?”
“No.”
“Then that was not your fault. He got hurt because of Zeus, not you.”
Apollo walked over to them. “You really think me getting hurt was your fault?”
Thanatos looked away, crossing his arms. “Well yes. If I had not mentioned told you about her pregnancy, Zeus would not have taken it out on you. It should have been me that took that bolt.”
Nyx, Ares, and Asclepius just watched the brooding that was going on. Ares frowned, speaking to Nyx. “Is your son always so-“
“Selfless?”
“Guilt-ridden?” Ares corrected.
“Both?” Asclepius said, looking at Thanatos, Apollo, and Hades talking.
Nyx gave an amused smile. “Yes. He is. It is what makes him such a good choice for death itself; he doesn’t take souls because he wants to, but because he has to.”
Ares smiled at her. “Your son is very brave as well. He attempted to fight off an inner demon, even knowing his sword would not have worked. He felt the need to do something to help that soul, even knowing it may have been futile.”
Nyx smiled softly. “That’s my boy.”
Apollo cheerfully spoke up, his normal, vibrant energy and enthusiasm back at full force. “Enough brooding, I say we-“
“I swear if you say get drinks-“Hades started, both he and Thanatos about to roll their eyes when the sun god did suggest, just that. “Of course drinks! Think I’m not drinking after getting hit with lighting?”
Thanatos huffed. “I would rather stay in for tonight. Maybe we can have some tea here, with Hades?”
Nyx just continued to watch before speaking to Ares. “Ready to go home, big guy?”
Ares nodded with a grin. “Yes, I cannot wait to tell Aphrodite about my latest battle.”
His Last Days
1.
That morning, he woke up not hearing the sound of alarm, but because the early morning sunlight disturbed his sleep. The ceiling above his head was an unfamiliar one. Where am I? He wondered for a minute. Then slowly he came to his senses, and realized where he was and why.
He rubbed his heavy eyelids in an attempt to rub off the sleepiness. It was more out of habit than an obligation. After all, he didn’t have to wake up early in the morning from now on. He could sleep in as much as he wanted now, but now that he actually had the chance to do so, he didn’t have the urge to sleep in anymore.
When was the last time I got to enjoy a proper vacation? He hardly remembered. Honeymoon period was probably the last time. After that, he got too caught up in work and life that it left him drained out, devoid of energy. Nowadays he barely had time to sit down and think about anything, and even when he had time he lacked the energy and mood.
You are not the only one living like that, he said to himself, everyone around you is living the same way. That's how adult life is.
That belief was what held him together from falling apart. That was, until one day, something unexpected came up and gave him a loud shake.
He rolled on the other side of the empty bed. For the last fifteen years, he had been sleeping together with someone else. He forgot what it was like to sleep alone. It was one of many things he had forgotten.
It’s a beautiful day, he thought. Despite the fact that it was only morning and soon the sun would start to pour its heat mercilessly, draining people’s energy, it was still going to be a beautiful day. At least to him.
Finally, he got up from the bed. He washed up slower than other days because he wasn’t in a hurry, He thought while getting out to get a cup of coffee and breakfast.
There was a small restaurant in walking distance from his residence. He had his breakfast there while watching people in a rush. Not so long ago I was one of them. Look at me now. What's the point of rushing so much, anyway?
On his way home, he bought some groceries. He couldn’t live on takeout foods forever, and since he could cook why bother with takeouts.
Back home, he lay on the bed again with a Haruki Murakami book. Haruki Murakami was his favourite writer ever since he was nineteen. His books had a certain charm in them that never failed to draw him in. More than the contents of the book, he was a fan of Murakami's writing style. The vivid descriptions made him feel as if he was being dragged inside the book. He found the writing style very smooth and easy-to-read.
Lost in the book, he was oblivious to how much time passed. When he finally got up from the bed, it was noon. As lunch, he fried an egg for himself and ate that with rice. Then he took a nap.
In the afternoon, he went to take a walk. There was hardly anyone around his age walking around like he did. The ones who were there weren’t alone like him, they had their wives or children or both with them. He walked until the sunset, and then he returned home.
Climbing on his bed, he decided to watch a movie. After a long search, he settled on Dead Poets Society. He remembered the first time he watched the movie with a friend. That friend of him was really sensitive, and by the end of the movie he started crying. He managed to calm his friend down after putting much effort. He wondered how that friend of his was doing now. Did he have the courage to go after his dream, or did he give in to the flow of society? He sincerely hoped for the latter, his friend was quite a dreamer after all.
He wanted to call his friend and say, "Hey, you know what, I rewatched Dead Poets Society today for the first time in years and I thought of you. I wondered how you have been doing. It’s been quite a while, right? Sorry, I have been too caught up in life to check on you. I'm sure you were busy too." But he lost his friend's contact information long ago.
After watching the movie, he lay on the bed again, and contemplated about his life and life choices. He gave up on his dreams long ago. He had to when he got married and had to take responsibility his new family. Marrying her was his choice, while the choice of giving up on his dreams wasn’t entirely his. Not that he blamed his wife for that. If anything, he blamed himself. He wondered how life would turn out to be if he hadn’t fallen in love with her. He probably would pursue his dreams, but there was a chance that he would stay alone.
Well, in the end, I'm still alone, ain't I?
Being alone right now was also his choice. He was the one who decided to stay separated from his wife for time being after losing his job. Being fired wasn’t his choice, though, that was the last thing he expected. But turned out, at that moment it was the best thing that could happen to him.
After all, he got to enjoy a slow morning and a Murakami book and went for a walk and watched a movie and not to mention slept a lot for the first time in years. He forgot how those simple actions could make someone happy.
He thought of giving his wife a call, but stopped. I am enjoying my vacation. I better not call her. His wife had become a part of his hectic daily life. Calling her felt like dragging himself to that world again. He didn’t want that.
That night, it took him a little longer than usual to fall asleep. But when he slept, he slept soundly. He didn’t dream.
2.
One afternoon, he called his wife.
"Finally, you called," that was what she said upon picking up.
"Sorry it took me so long to call you. Anyway, when you get a bit free time, can you come by my place? I want to talk to you face-to-face."
"Why don't you come by instead?"
"I don't feel like leaving my place."
"Can't it be talked over phone?" she sounded tired.
"No."
"Fine, then," she gave in, "I'll come by this weekend."
He was lying on his bed when doorbell rang. He opened the door to find his wife.
"I was waiting for you. Come in, have a seat."
She sat down.
"There is something I need to tell you."
"What is it?"
"It’s not your fault that we separated. The reason I decided to live separately is not because you are not good enough or you hurt me or anything like that. It’s just...a result of my selfishness."
"I am not blaming you."
"You deserve to know why I made that decision, as my partner."
"That's true indeed."
"The thing is...over the years, we have fallen out of love, don't you think?”
“It has become more like a habit, us staying together. We are not even contributing in each other's lives anymore. We live under the same roof but we live different lives. Even now...it seems like my absence isn't affecting you that much. And to be honest, your absence isn't affecting me either. Even when I miss you, it’s out of habit and not emotional attachment."
"Isn't it inevitable? Both of us are adults now, and we have a lot on our plates. Work. Finance. We don’t have room for worrying about falling in and out of love when we are at our thirties."
"But even so, don't you this we are a little, you know, too indifferent about each other at this point as partners? I decided to get separated and you aren’t even interested about why I made such a decision. I am not worrying about what kind of life you are living in my absence, either. Isn’t it abnormal for a couple who spent fifteen years together?"
"Maybe so."
"You are not even bothered by the fact that I lost my job."
"Well, I am not financially dependent on you anymore, so why would I worry about that?"
"Isn't it funny? You were the reason I decided to get a stable job. But in the end...What have I done with my life?"
She didn’t say anything in response to that.
"Tell me. Are you seeing someone?"
"I have no intention to have an affair."
"Is that so? Maybe this is your chance to find someone new and have a fresh start, now that I almost let go of you."
"I don’t want to. I like my life as it is now. If anything, you are the one who should take the chance."
"I also like my life the way it is now. I take photos and walk around the city, sleep a lot and read often. I even own a cat now."
"A cat?"
"Hmm. I bumped into a stray cat and took it in."
"Good for you."
"You should come by sometimes, you know, and we can have conversations like this is over a cup of coffee. It feels like old times but in a slightly different way."
"Hmmmm. Doesn’t sound bad."
"And just in case, the passcode of my front door is 2104."
"Our wedding date? That was such an old-fashioned way to assign a passcode."
She smiled.
"It’s easy to remember."
"It indeed is."
3.
It was just an ordinary afternoon.
He had been feeling out of sorts for last few days. The left side of his chest wouldn’t stop aching.
That day, the pain became unbearable. Unable to take it any longer, he fell on his bed, facedown. The sun was about to set.
Is this how I am going to die?
He called his wife. No answer. He attempted to call again, but stopped. She must be busy.
At that moment, wave of loneliness washed over him. He wished for someone to be by his side like never before. It wouldn’t make his pain any less, but at least he could get a glass of water or a warm hand holding onto his. He closed his eyes in pain.
When he opened them again, he felt a warm presence next to him. It was none other than his cat, the only companion in his solitary life.
“There you are,” he said in a weak voice, and gently ran his fingers through the cat’s white, fluffy fur. The cat probably sensed that something was wrong with its owner. It licked his cheek and neck, as if it was comforting him in its own way. It worked, because he felt a little less lonely.
In the faint light of dusk, he looked at the photographs hung on the wall. Those photographs were taken by him. Every single one had a story behind it. Some of them had memories associated with them. Looking at those photographs always comforted him.
Most of the pictures on his wall were of sky. He loved taking pictures of sky. He took countless photos of sky. Morning sky. Evening sky. Cloudy sky. Sunset. Sunrise. Different shades. Different angles. Different times, places and colours. He said that sky was that one thing that he never grew tired watching, as it looked different everyday.
There were also a bunch of pictures of the road and the streetlights. More than the green of the nature, the grey concrete attracted him more. He loved the city.
He wanted to hold exhibitions. An exhibition with the photos of sky. Another with the photos of concrete-grey city. But in the end, that was just a dream. A futile wish he knew wouldn’t come true.
He thought of his family. His parents were probably at one of their older son’s place. He thought of his elder brothers who were always busy with their works. Not so long ago, he was just like them. He didn’t tell his parents or brothers about his unemployment or separation from his wife. He didn’t feel like letting them know and getting bombarded with questions and judgemental remarks.
He wanted to be acknowledged. He wished his family would recognize him as who he was. In the end, it remained as just a wish.
He felt that he needed to go to hospital. He was already unable to get up from the bed and there was no way he could look after himself given the state he was in. He reached for the phone and dialled 911. Shortly after, his wife called him back.
"What's wrong? You don’t sound good."
I feel like dying, that's what he wanted to say. And I am feeling really lonely right now.
Instead, he just said,"I'm sick."
"What happened? Do you need to go to hospital? Should I come?” She said in a concerned voice.
"I have called an ambulance already. I'll call you after arriving in hospital, okay? Don’t worry about me.”
Finishing the call, he patted his cat again, ever so gently. While doing that, he talked to it, knowing all too well that cats don't understand human language, “I am sorry. I will probably have to leave you all alone and I don't know for how long. I hope someone will take care of you. If they don't, then I hope you will be able to take care of yourself.”
He kept patting the cat his fingers no longer moved. As his eyes fell shut and his breathing shortened, the cat licked him again and meowed.
By the time the ambulance arrived, he and his cat both fell asleep – while his cat was taking just a nap, he fell into eternal sleep. His breathing had stopped.
Epilogue
When the cat woke up next morning, its owner was nowhere to be found.
Later, a woman came to his apartment and packed his belongings while crying.
Soon after, the cat ran away to the street. It was a stray to begin with.
When There Is A Will There Is A Way
A short fiction story response to a writing prompt about ‘a character finding guidance in an unlikely place’. I got the writing prompt from the weekly Reedsy Writing Prompts Challenge. I hope that people relate to the story, and like it too.
One day while I was sitting in my cubicle at my new office in the city of New Jersey where I was feeling a little out-of-place, I realized it was a good day to do lots of things. It was a strange sort of realization, because it was based more on a hunch and less on the element of routine. I usually was the type that got up and did things straightaway, but today the realization sort of dawned on me, and I was grateful even in a strange sense, that it did.
I was not usually a lazy worker that did not like doing their work. I was new to the place, and I missed my home back in the country side. While I sat there enjoying the grateful feeling, I noticed a picture on the wall. The picture said that ’If there is a will there is a way” I liked this saying for some reason, and someone from the office staff had put up the beautiful light pink poster that had an ornate golden frame.
I thought about the saying, which I had heard about back in school that was apparently 400 years old. I happened to be an HSP with empath tendencies so I had to do strange things to overcome some strange sort of jetlag that seemed to accompany everything I did. There was something to do that morning, and I was taking all my time, finding good enough reasons to be motivated enough to do it!
I seemed to have some sort of a photographic memory, so idioms like this stayed with me. They even gave me a strange sort of sense of direction. I felt lost at work usually even though I was very intelligent, and capable. I realized that this was a job that I might like doing, if I might find good enough reasons to do it, while putting in my best.
Suddenly reality dawned on me, and I started to type the letter that needed to be completed as requested by my boss. I noticed there were lots of typos in the original document, and I had to proofread and edit all the stuff I was asked to redo for him. I also suddenly realized that my cell phone was ringing, and it seemed to be a call from someone I met at a coffee shop recently. A guy.
“Hello,” I said,
“Hi” came back the beaming voice.
“Aren’t you that guy I met at the coffee shop the other day?” I asked as though I didn’t know who he was.
“Yes, I’m also an artist, and those sketches you showed me the other day were remarkable” he replied with great admiration in his voice.
“Great, I can leave work early, as it’s the weekend, would you like to catch up ? ” he said again.
“Sure,” I replied with a tinge of happiness in my voice.
I got back to my desk job and prepped myself to do as much as I could as fast as I could. Given that I was going to leave early, I started to think of ways to type quickly never mind that there was indeed a lot to do. The boss knew I was good at proofreading, so he usually entrusted me with the usual load of paperwork.
Again I looked at the picture on the wall. I typed what I could and had completed nearly 70% of the days paperwork. I then, like the funny empath that I was took a notepad that was close by and started to doodle. Given that I was a good artist, I thought about what my new date had said on the phone.
I had a black marker pen that I carried with me every where. I usually liked doodling, and I doodled like a 5 year old, every where, on the books I read, on the wall, like teeny tiny doodles, and even liked to draw fake tattoos on my hand.
I decided to draw one of the fake tattoos that I had drawn on a female friend ages ago.
The tattoo was that of a cute but easy-to-recreate yatch in the middle of the sea that looked pretty cute on her actually. She later went on to get a real ink tattoo of the same drawing with her boyfriends name underneath it.
I easily recreated the same drawing, and this time I wrote the text that was on the wall beneath it. The beautiful rough sketch looked resplendent with the words “When there is a will there is a way” written so eloquently underneath.
I got back to the paperwork, and completed my daily office routine, but left early as it was the weekend. I called up the guy I was supposed to be meeting, and he said he was in the vicinity. We caught up, at the same coffee shop that we were so used to visiting, because of its beautiful aura and authentically Asian menu.
There he was in the restaurant, being himself, the last time I remember him. His hair was auburn, and his eyes were blue. He looked every bit the artist that “loved what they did, and hence did not really work a day in their life” I sat down opposite him at the table and noticed that he had already ordered a tall glass of mocha latte for me.
“You are new to the City of New Jersey, that’s what you told me the last time we met” he said in one long sentence without stopping.
“Yes, and I feel like the City is giving me great vibes, but its taking me a while to get used to things!” I replied with an honest look on my face.
He saw the sketch I made on the notebook I got from work, and was amazed.
“I think the drawing has captured the essence of the phrase very well” I think you would make a great artist too, by the way. I want to get this framed. I will put it up in my home, in my drawing room. Also, don’t feel as lost as you do in the city of New Jersey! That’s coz “When There is a Will there is a way” and you have found a friend in me as well!
That day I went home, and thought about the reason for liking the 400 year old idiom. I was the type ‘that never got around’ and I always had to start things from scratch to get them to work. I thought about the kindly artists words, and the fact that he simply adored my doodle, and wanted to get it framed. For now, things were going somewhere, and I had found a friend, in the big city. Probably the saying was true.
And if I had a will to do things, there would be a way to do them.
Handsome Stranger On The Island
A short story based on the Reedsy writing prompt entitled ’Write a story that contains the words I wish we could stay here forever…”
There she was sitting on her bed, with her phone. She was scrolling away endlessly.She wondered about the world at large. She felt that people who used social media apps on their phones were indeed up-to-date. They were smart when it came to doing things like modern folks who usually made good choices.
People like that did things that were in line with trends. She was busy looking at a friend’s blog on Tumblr. She also had her blog on which she had written her thoughts about life.She prided herself on her blog and its content. She interacted with her followers and posted relatable things on her blog about her life.
She suddenly fell asleep while still on her bed and dreamed about a mysterious island.This island was indeed gorgeous and mysterious.It was a sight to behold.She found herself on the shore of the beautiful island walking all alone on its white sands.
There she was looking for habitation while it was a scorching 12 o’clock in the afternoon.There were lots of tropical birds on the branches of the trees. She decided to make herself feel at home on a nice-looking rock under the tree. The tree happened to be very tall on this secluded remote island paradise.
She happened to have her duffel bag which contained an extra change of clothes, some bubble gum, her notebook and pen, and her sunglasses down on the large rock that had enough room for her to make notes on her journal.She loved bullet journaling as It helped her prioritize and think clearly. She also loved watching the exotic birds. Since there were so many birds on this beautiful Island she wondered if she was dreaming.
She was starting to feel a little bored of making notes on the bird species on the island even though she considered herself to be a very patient person otherwise. She was so busy with her note-making that she hardly knew another human being just a few kilometres from the place where she was sitting under the shady tree.
He was indeed very tall and had brown-blonde hair and she was busy writing. When she looked up she noticed the silhouette of the tall human being coming working towards her. She looked up and saw that upon further observation the tall man was rather handsome. He had brown eyes and a warm smile.
He said his name was Desmond.“Hello” she said with a hint of shyness in her voice, to the tall man and he too sat down on the big rock next to her which was like a big sofa almost.The very sweet smiling Desmond was very happy and asked her if she was lost. She answered that she did not know how she got onto the island.
Desmond was visibly relieved when he understood that Ana was the only one on the island other than the pretty birds. To Desmond, she was also a genuine trustworthy person who spoke well, possessed an iPhone and was his only hope for getting away from the island.“Perhaps you were born for a time such as this,” he told her with a smile that accentuated his dimples, and his handsome eyes sparkled in the light.
Anna looked at Desmond wondering what those remarkable words meant. They seemed like something iconic like they were from a movie. Desmond looked into her eyes and told her that those were indeed very special words that came from the biblical story of a Jewish queen called Esther.
Desmond was busy sitting down under the shade of the looming tree in the middle of nowhere with her. He asked her if back where she came from she was happy with her life.She looked into his big brown eyes and said that where she came from life was slavery to the system of things. It was like effort felt purposeless. The culture was based on mindless chasing after the wind literally.
She did not like school but she did it to keep her most cherished close friends happy. She told Desmond everything about herself. He was starting to relate to her and become acquainted with the way she was.She admitted that previously she liked being a busybody who never cared for anyone. She found solace in her writing because it gave her a reason to exist and something interesting to do with her spare hours.
Desmond asked her again if she ever wanted to go back to where she came from. She looked at him she said, “Only if you promise to come…”Desmond looked at her and told her that it was her decision. He was the sort of kindly stranger who had a habit of saying magically philosophical things like this all the time.
These things sometimes came true like an unfulfilled prophecy because he was after all Desmond.Ana looked around her while she was sitting on the rock under the big tree. She felt very warm next to Desmond while sitting there. The both of them were alone together on that same Mysterious Island.
She looked into his eyes and asked him -” Has there never been anyone interesting in your life? Anyone who inspired you and told you nice things?” she said batting her eyelids.“Sorry, my dear but I have always been searching for that beautiful someone to make my life less lonely.”Then she did something totally unlike her and kissed him on the cheek because she wanted to.
She then asked him why “he wanted to leave the island which was such a beautiful place, when he had been living there all his life.”Desmond looked into Anna’s blue eyes and kissed her on the mouth. Anna and Desmond did more than just kiss that lucky day they also got close really long on the rock. They were in each other’s arms when he said “I wish we could stay forever…”
Anna suddenly woke up from her strange dream thinking about Desmond’s kiss. She noticed a picture of Desmond from the series Lost that she had gotten from the internet on her phone.She then posted something relatable on Tumblr about how God worked rather mysteriously in people’s lives.
People from all walks of life tried to find meaning, purpose and a sense of identity in their walks of Life.She did not know what her dream meant or how they related to her life but there was indeed a connection.
She knew that God was trying to tell her something through her experiences.She made a new blog post on Tumblr that “ we are all meant to do our best in this world which is passing -and we are passing through -it is all temporary but the truth remains that we only live once and we have a unique purpose to fulfil.”
“That is what we were called to do “ she added. She was so happy with her blog post on social media and she knew it could be a 100% hit. She fell asleep next to her phone. For Anna life was a beautiful dream that was waiting to happen…
Some time before their journey began...
Two friends drank coffee by a campfire. One had eyes that absorbed the light, the other, eyes that made it look dull in comparison.
"I'm worried," the one with bright eyes said.
"About?"
"Forgetting."
"Forgetting what?"
"Who I am."
"You're with you all the time, how could you forget."
"I'm not really."
"What do you mean?"
"I'm with you all the time. The more I'm with you, the less I feel I'm with myself."
"I see."
"Do you ever worry about forgetting? Now that I'm here."
"No. Not really."
"How?"
"I don't feel as if I have anything to forget yet. I'm still looking for it."
"You have been alone a long time."
"I think that might have been the problem."
Silence enveloped them.
"Do you think I'll forget?" The friend with eyes of glass broke it.
"No, I don't."
"How can you be sure?"
"I can't quite explain it yet."
"Can you try?"
"I can but I won't."
"That's not very helpful."
"I'm sorry."
"It's okay. I trust you."
Silence.
"Do you remember being a child?" The one with eyes the color of grief asked.
"I thought you weren't going to explain."
"Just a bit. Do you want me to stop?"
"I remember bits and pieces."
"So you've forgotten already."
"I don't think so."
"Explain."
"It's like a ship. Losing some pieces doesn't sink it."
"Don't bring Theseus into this."
"It is like that though."
"Not really."
"Well, I think it is."
"You aren't a ship, my friend. You are a ship builder. You worry if I help you build it, the ship won't be yours anymore, and maybe it won't. Maybe it will be ours. But there is a difference."
"A difference?"
"Yeah, between a life and a person. The ship is your life, but the one who makes it, that's you."
"That's us."
"If you want help."
"Maybe."
"Maybe?"
"Maybe we can build a nicer ship if we work together. A prettier life."
"I don't expect it to be pretty."
"But it will be grand."
"It will certainly be different."
"Good. I want it to be different."
A Different Sort Of Selfie
This is a short story based on the writing prompt by Reedsy about Beginning or ending your story with a character taking a selfie. The story is about someone who talks to her friend about a selfie she took that shows what is different in her life...
Charlene Newman happened to be with her friends whom she trusted so much of late. She knew they were different because they hung out at Church prayer meetings on Sundays very near to where she lived in the Boston suburbs and read the bible a lot.
She took a selfie of herself next to a picture of a biblical quote with an archaic wooden frame; She knew it would be a different sort of post on Instagram. One of those posts about God and heaven above that made you think. About Life.
It had the words “If God delights in a man’s way he will never let him fall ” in cursive lettering, which meant a lot if you thought deeply about their meaning.
She planned on posting this picture on her social media. She knew that her other friends would post pictures of themselves trying on a new outfit or lipstick. But Charlene here, was trying to be different.
Charlene was trying to make the sort of friends that she knew would inevitably do something good. She, of course, wanted the world to know about it, like anyone who ever posted updates about their life on social media.
She was done with the sort of temporal friends who only hung out with you for what you could do for them, who did drugs, or had weird boyfriends.
She happened to be with one such friend, who called herself Petunia. Petunia Charles was someone who loved attending church prayer meetings a lot and seemed to do a lot of things right.
If there was anything good about their friendship, it was that Charlene felt Petunia was good at giving advice. Charlene was the quiet sort, who relied heavily on what other people had to say about literally everything.
But there was a growing sense of responsibility, and what one would call a maturity of sorts that could be seen in Charlene. She knew she wanted more from her life.
She didn’t want to be someone who did just about anything with her time, and her life. She wanted more people like Petunia around her who could guide her toward becoming a better version of herself. They left the prayer meeting they were so used to going to on Sundays, and went to a coffee shop just to relax.
Charlene and Petunia hung out at the coffee shop for a little while. There was beautiful relaxing music playing there in the background that made this particular coffee shop a favorite among many people who visited it.
Charlene thought about the picture of herself that she was about to post on Instagram. She sat down at a table opposite Petunia and looked at the selfie she had taken a little while ago.
She knew it was going to be a very different sort of social media post. Instead of posting typical selfies that were the kind young women usually would generally post on Instagram, here she was posting something very different.
Charlene was aware that hers was a post with a theme. A different sort of Instagram post which wasn’t all about her, but about the beautiful words of the painting behind her.
After Charlene had applied a beautiful pink filter to the picture, and trimmed it a little to avoid something unnecessary in the background, she decided to post it on Instagram.
She wondered whether she should ask Petunia about her thoughts on the picture before posting it. She felt it would be better to as a sort of surprise, and she posted it anyway.
Petunia somehow didn’t notice that Charlene had posted this picture, and they continued talking about other things. Petunia was a level-headed young lady, and that was a quality that Charlene particularly liked about her.
Petunia and Charlene talked about many things over coffee, and they discussed love as well. Charlene however seemed to like that Petunia never made any reckless decisions in her life ever. She seemed to think very hard and deliberated over every decision she ever made in her life.
After they were done with their outing, Charlene walked home from the cafe which was close to her apartment in the city. She was indeed still thinking about many of the things that she and Petunia had spoken about in the cafe, where they hung out.
When Charlene finally reached home, she opened the door of her apartment and walked in. She sat down in the corner on the pale blue couch that she loved so much next to the window.
The window was open and a light breeze could be felt. It was nearly 7:30 p.m., late in the evening, and Charlene had made a habit of sleeping early. Charlene usually went to bed at 9:00 p.m. She decided that she would do all of the things she was so used to doing until it was time for her to call it a night.
The awesome calm and serene aura that could be felt in the room was indeed intense. She knew that God worked in mysterious ways, which is something folks like Charlene, and the others at the prayer meetings she was attending had impressed on her.
Charlene used to be a reckless noisy type that never had a moment to spare. But these days the things she had been meditating on had been playing on her mind.
All the things she had been reading in scripture were coming back to her. All the thoughts she was having about being spiritual about anything in this otherwise empty world.
All the times she had pushed the empty calorie-laden treats away, and chosen to spend her money wisely. All the times she had chosen to call her mother, back home in Alabama, in the countryside, who was now aged.
She remembered how her mother loved that her daughter was taking the trouble to call and that it was a wise thing according to Church standards too. She decided to call her up and ask her how she was doing.
She realized that all of this was better than Netflix! She told her mother all about the so-called informed choices she was trying to make, choosing wise friends, and choosing wise past times.
She did not forget to tell her mother about the peculiar selfie she had recently posted on social media, which no one seemed to take note of because there was nothing too great about it. Her mother told her it was okay to tag her, which she did.
Charlene went to bed that night with a different sort of happiness. It was a weird feeling, that she couldn’t explain. She had held on to some feeling of goodness that dwelled inside her. The beauty of a quiet life seemed to take on a new glamour.
No longer was she the old Charlene who hung out at wild parties, and had many lovers as she chose.
She was now Charlene Newman who tried to be ‘that girl’ who was on a journey towards realizing her higher purpose, instead of being some sort of ‘it girl’ that would be celebrated in literally every catchy selfie she ever posted.
She slept soundly that night thinking about The One who sees all things. She wondered about her selfie and what people would say, about it the next day. Sure she had worn her best outfit, and done her hair and makeup. But what was so great about this particular post was the picture in the background.
She woke up in the morning with that same peaceful feeling. She got a message in the morning from her mother who had seen the photo. Her mother had been the first one to comment, that the picture in the background was what made her stand out.
Charlene’s photo went viral, even though many people did not think too deeply about the well-meaning words of God in the background. There were many other comments made by old friends from the old days saying things like ‘awesome selfie’ and ‘looking cute’ beneath her Instagram post.
But there was one thing that rang true about this particular post that Petunia also noticed, ‘If God delighted in a man’s way, he made his steps firm’ and this was a truth that made sense only to people seeking it.
Charlene was doing something right according to someone, and the fact that the photo went viral proved it. Probably to God, and everyone that liked that particular post.