Fable
Helena's Journey
Smoke curling through the pale orange sky over the distant hill indicated to Helena that morning was on the horizon. The fires provided warmth for the remnants of that small village whose people hunted for rats or squirrels, cooking them over crude stone pits and metal grates. Sand stretched in either direction, making supplies difficult to obtain. In the distance, Helena had become a scavenger as well, digging through the heaps of destruction that occurred when one world state clashed with the other years ago. The war yielded no winners, only broken people, pawns struggling to survive.
By Barb Dukemana day ago in Fiction
The Game of Revenge
From Mount Olympus, Zeus, ruler of the Olympians, looked across the glaring sea into Poseidon's realm. In many cities, mortal women showed their beauty as they lived their mortal lives. Hera, queen of the gods, admired her new tunics, absorbed in her own world, both powerful and independent, envied for her independence. Zeus, wanting and yearning to visit a new lover, Alcmene, knew he needed to divert Hera's attention. He regarded this as an easy task, since she preferred her own interests rather than please him. Heading out into Olympus to find the perfect distraction. When Aphrodite passed by, Zeus enlisted her to entertain Hera; Aphrodite, goddess of love, delighted in such amusements and agreed. Returning to his palace, Zeus found nothing to eat, as Hera was still dressing and ignoring him anyway. He ate the last bit of bread just as Hera entered, scowling and reproachful, making her anger clear. Soon, Aphrodite arrived to occupy Hera. Hera glowered at Zeus but kept silent before her guest, then stormed out, making her displeasure unmistakable. With Hera gone and his scheme successful, Zeus left Olympus to visit Alcmene in the guise of Amphitryon, while Hera remained unaware.
By Sarah Danaher2 days ago in Fiction
Notes in the Margins of Happily Ever After
The first thing every girl receives in the kingdom where I was born is a book. I am writing in mine now. The leather cover is still white, though the edges are darkened with smoke and forest dirt. Some of the pages curl slightly, as if the book has already survived a small fire. The gold lettering has almost rubbed away, but if you tilt it toward the firelight you can still read the title pressed into the skin:
By Stacey Mataxis Whitlow (SMW)2 days ago in Fiction
A Convening of Heaven's Conference Table.
"There will never be any peace...until God is seated at the conference table". (The ChiLites, 1973). "Hear ye. Hear ye. By the power of the All Seeing and Unseen, I thus make this holy proclamation to declare, affirm and acknowledge that...
By Novel Allen3 days ago in Fiction
Bread And Circuses
An AI Explanation of the phrase: The phrase "Give them bread and circuses, and they will never revolt" is a popular paraphrase of a sentiment from the Roman poet Juvenal, criticising how rulers pacify the masses with food and entertainment to avoid political unrest. It describes a strategy to control the population by distracting them from civic duties.
By Mike Singleton đź’ś Mikeydred 3 days ago in Fiction
Echoes of Resistance
The streets of Bristol were alive that day, though not with the usual hum of buses and chatter, but with the heavy pulse of voices that demanded to be heard. I had not intended to join the protest—I came to observe, to write, to bear witness—but once I stepped into the swell of people, the energy was impossible to ignore. The banners waved above heads, each one a story, a demand, a prayer. The scent of rain-soaked asphalt mixed with the faint tang of chalk from hastily scrawled messages, leaving the air electric.
By imtiazalam4 days ago in Fiction
