Tag: myth

The Rainbows

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Maybe you’re familiar with the story of The Rainbow Bridge?
Kitty Heaven, a place to visit
It’s not quite true.
Rainbows do soar over the meadows of Heaven, majestically, but not at any bridge.
They wait for the storm to pass, the Lord’s tears dry, and they look down at the world, searching.
Like Valkyries searching for the bravest of the fallen, they seek out those who have loved and been loved the greatest.
And guide them to where that love is eternal.
No pot of gold at the rainbow’s end, but a greater treasure awaits.
The rainbows search anew.

Lightning Spirit

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I’ve seen the Lightning Spirit dance from cloud to cloud, shouting thunder and waving her jagged fingers of lightning across the sky.
She dances to the music of the winds, rushing across the plains and laughing as the trees sway in the moonlight.
With a touch, a tree explodes in a shower of shattered bark and light.
And another.
She looks for her love, the Spirit of Iron.
Metal rods poked into the ground, offerings left at their base to beg her attention away from the homes.
Over and over, she and Iron become one.
She shouts satisfaction, and departs.

Chorus

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Ever hear of the Falling Chorus of Ghastly Cliffs?
No? It’s a fascinating story.
Imagine a gigantic gleaning amphitheater set on the edge of a cliff.
As the city residents become old and weak, they join the line down Main Street to the chorus at the cliff.
When they reach the amphitheater, they sing for all they’re worth.
Some go for a few seconds. Others, for hours.
When they’re exhausted, helpers pick them off the ground and toss them over the edge.
Another takes their place. The choir goes on forever.
It’s beautiful, except for the screams and messy splatters.

Boatsman

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Throughout the ages, the boatsman kept his fare the same: one soul, one coin.
It didn’t matter what kind of coin it was or how valuable it had been in the land of the living.
He liked to collect coins.
On the weekends, he showed off his vast coin collection to his friends.
The job called for a stoic, professional demeanor, so when he was given a coin he didn’t already have, he’d fight hard to keep his composure.
Nobody wants their trip across the River Styx to be performed by a giddy skeletal ferryman.
It’s not like you ask for “do overs.”

Dancing Goddess

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When the Goddess begins to dance, people from all around will gather by the shore and watch her move in the tide with such grace and beauty.
They drop everything and sway in the evening mist.
Mothers let their babies slip from their grasp and fall into the surf.
Nobody notices the splashes. The Goddess laughs as each sacrifice is made.
Sometimes, after the dance, their bodies wash up on the shore, and there is much grief.
The Goddess has rejected the children.
But when the children wash out to sea, it is said they have become her royal consorts.

Left Behind

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I watch from my twisted prison, two birds soaring over the water, free to ride the breezes.
They are the craftsman, Daedalus, and his son, Icarus. Escaping Knossos on wings of feathers, wood and wax.
They are abandoning me, and I howl with rage.
In our youth, Icarus and I were brothers. Royal blood may flow through me, but Daedalus taught me, and we struggled against my monstrous nature.
More of a father than the tyrant who sends the children of his enemies for me to devour.
A flash of flame on the horizon. Icarus is falling.
My brother! No!

Drool

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Thor’s Drool, you say?
That’s not easy to come by. It’ll cost you.
Sure, Thor the Thunder God’s gone senile, not enough worshipers to get a bed in the Old Gods’ Home, but he’s still plenty dangerous when he’s lucid.
Eyes like burning ice, full beard with fresh war ribbons is how I like to remember him.
Now, he’s just a grimy angry old wretch living in a cave.
Hrm… let’s see…
I’ll send Rodney out to collect the drool for you. “Lucky Rod” I call him, but more like “Lightning Rod” when Thor’s aim is good.
Cash or charge?

Two Robes

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If you did the same job since the beginning of time, you’d get bored, right?
That’s why The Grim Reaper and The Ferryman on The River Styx trade jobs once a year.
Ferryman reaps and the Reaper ferries souls.
So there I was, walking to work, and this figure in a black robe whacks me with a boat oar.
“Ouch!” I yell.
“Shit,” he growls. “Hold still.”
And he whacks me again.
Next thing I know, I’m standing on the shore of a river.
“Hello?” I yell.
Paddling a boat with a scythe has got to be a royal bitch.

Atlantis Rises

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Poseidon raises his mighty hand, oceans boiling with rage.
An ancient land rises from the deep once more.
“Atlantis,” growls the sea god. “How long has it been since I saw you fall?”
He wanders the water-logged streets, rotten wood and cracked piles of marble that were once stores, homes, and temples to his glory.
What was once beautiful and majestic, left in ruin by time.
Poseidon weeps, lowering his hand. The lost continent is lost once more.
He wonders aloud if he’s done this before.
Oh, Senile Sea God, like your temples, how the ages have ravaged your mind.

The Diva and The Devil

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I know I’ve been gone for a while, but I’m back.
And, by gum, do I have an opera!
Sold my soul for it.
Drop what you’re doing and meet me at the Old Opera House tonight.
I don’t care what it costs to do this. Put it on my tab and just get it all done, okay?
Bring musicians, instruments, singers, costumes, lighting, ushers, and caterers.
Bring the fat lady, too. We’re going to need her.
This’ll be bigger and better than the last one we did.
They’ll be packed to the rafters, paying anything… everything…
Just like me.