I’m all for fantasy stories where supernatural characters protect their human friends, but does anyone else want some stories where the humans are the ones who are looking after their supernatural friends?
A human girl exchanging her silver engagement ring for a cheaper one after she realises why her werewolf friend has been refusing to high five her.
A group of humans throwing coats over their vampire friend because he forgot it was the Summer solstice and was caught out by the sunrise. Those same friends coming to visit him when he wakes up in the late afternoon, bringing him blood from the butcher’s and putting up with his whining about the nights being shorter.
A human hearing that someone stole their selkie friends pelt and coming over to her new “husband"s house immediately and threatening to punch his lights out unless he tells them where it is.
Humans petitioning the counsel to build a wooden climbing frame in the local playground because the old one has iron parts and their fairy friend’s kids can’t use it without burning themselves.
One day, when Aphrodite was admiring herself in her mirror when dressing in her silks and pearls, she laughed merrily at a remark of one of her handmaidens. She laughed so prettily, so dazzlingly, so overwhelmingly beautiful, that the mirror could not properly reflect her beauty, and it splintered into billions of tiny shards. These fragments were picked up by the wind and drifted away from Olympus, and all across the globe. They carried in them a sliver, a minuscule reflection of the divine beauty of the undead goddess, and when they started to fall down on the world, a most miraculous thing happened. Every shard fell on a human, settling in the corner of their smile, in the gleam of their eyes, or in the arch of their neck. This made it so that every human has a shimmer of beauty in them, setting them apart from all others.
Hestia comforts the children of broken homes, she appears to
them as a school councilor that always has cookies. They cry in her arms, and
she lets them stay with her for as long as she can. She stopped calling home,
stopped making strongly worded comments to the parents. All there is left are
broken homes and suffering children.
Hera sits next to her sister, holds her hand and thinks
about the broken marriages that lead to broken homes. She listens to the
couples yelling at each other while she walks on the streets. She holds the
crying women, she listens to the hopeless men. All of the power that a goddess
of marriage possesses cannot help the people who were betrayed by their closest
After a long day, Demeter sits on the ground in her garden, holds
a cup of tea in hands that have dirt all over them. She wishes that more people
would remember what is under all of the concrete. She feels the dying of her
world, and curses those who do not care for it.
(i) aphrodite spends her nights stumbling out of bars the hands of unfamiliar men wrapped around her waist. she smells like hard liquor and cigarette smoke. when dusk turns to dawn she’s always the first to leave. always running. It’s better this way, safer this way.
(ii) artemis traded in her bow and arrow for a gun. she still hunts she just hunts a different kind of prey now. she goes out at dusk and comes back home at dawn. bruised and bloody. a few bullets missing from her gun. somewhere buried deep in the body of a man who wore cruelty as if it were a second skin. who did not take no for an answer.
(iii) persephone first saw hades in a club. He was the kind of boy her mother had warned her about. Boys like that her mother had said are nothing but trouble. but persephone had never minded trouble very much. she walked up to him her lips painting a shade of pomegranate and asked if she could buy him a drink.
i. Aphrodite has given up on love. She listens to boys yelling obscene things at innocent girls. She can be found serving drinks at the local bar to broken women and spitting poisonous words at the filthy gentlemen next to them.
ii. Apollo dreads the moment the sun rises. Because when the sun goes up, his local late night show ends and his hour of fame comes to a close. He can be found spending his days, sitting on a park bench asking for loose change and wishing his poetry was good enough.
iii. Ares doesn’t understand war anymore. All he sees is needless bloodshed and brutal homicide based upon abhorrent racial cleansing and childish disagreements. He can be found weeping over the destruction of schools and the murder of innocent children.
iv. Artemis doesn’t hunt game anymore. She carries a switchblade and mace, prepared to fight off any boy harassing a girl with intoxicated footsteps. She can be found holding back girl’s hair as they vomit up their insecurities while sobs wrack their body into the next morning.
v. Athena has stopped believing in reason. When there’s international conflict concerning who marries who and a nationwide crisis about the newest fashion, reason just doesn’t seem applicable anymore. She can be found protesting with college students about real problems.
vi. Dionysus can’t help the madness. When the frequency of mental illness - in children nonetheless, has become so high? What’s the point? He can be found at the same pub and same seat as always; drinking the same dry whisky wishing everything would be the same as it used to be.
vii. Hades can’t stand jewels anymore. Emeralds reflect the envy and greed of humanity while rubies reflect their sexual and blood lust. He can be found rolling his eyes at people begging for their lives in the allies while human demons hunt them down for materialistic ends.
viii. Hephaestus has developed a hatred of fire. It does nothing but steal. It steal oxygen from the air and steal people from their families. Fire does not give it takes. He can be found saving everything he can from fire’s wrath, but will later choke on the smoke of his cigarette.
ix. Hermes can’t stand traveling. His legs are weak and his eyes are strained. He’s carried too many messages to people about the death of loved ones and the love letters are scarce. He can be found stealing, not money, but of their hope and strength because he’s hasn’t any left.
The gods are among us and they can’t survive. Why should I?
Don’t leave. Please. Stay.
It’s nice to be in the dark,
right? You can relax a little.
No brittle smiles. No air kisses.
No sarcasm. Forget the stress. The worry. The petty skirmishes.
Life is too short.
A tribe of Warrior Women, led by notable queens such as Penthesilea, who participated in the Trojan War, and her sister Hippolyta, whose magical girdle, given to her by her father Ares, was the object of one of the labours of Hercules.
In the modern world, the goddesses don’t wait for men to fight their battles.
They take weapons and find battles.
Artemis has her hood up and goes hunting after dark. The city’s just another forest in need of a mistress to tip the scale between prey and predator and everyone always said her mouth looked better when it was painted blood red.
There’s too many tears in the streets. Aphrodite thinks it shouldn’t matter. That everyone should love who they want how they want, but it should all start with giving love to yourself. A couple of counseling degrees later and she’s started a movement. She’s glad they’re understanding the strength found in the heart.
Everyone is always at war, and Athena nurtures warriors. Ones that fight with their minds and ones who fight with their fists. Hera started a website and it nearly crashed in the first hour. There’s no room for weakness. Everyone is learning to be Queens.
Then there is one final lesson, the softness amongst the rough. They gather before her throne, and Persephone whispers softly into their ears that it’s ok to love fiercely and leave things behind. Hackles are still hackles no matter how pretty they are. Take your freedom and hope it makes the world burn.
There are no fair maidens here, there is only immortals with ichor and steel //L.H.Z
When they ask to see your gods your book of prayers show them lines drawn delicately with veins on the underside of a bird’s wing tell them you believe in giant sycamores mottled and stark against a winter sky and in nights so frozen stars crack open spilling streams of molten ice to earth and tell them how you drink a holy wine of honeysuckle on a warm spring day and of the softness of your mother who never taught you death was life’s reward but who believed in the earth and the sun and a million, million light years of being