Category: Stories

Odd Mythic Creatures

Many mythic creatures have worked their way into modern literature and especially movies throughout the years. Medusa with her stony glare, dragons galore, vampires, werewolves, sea serpents, and the occasional flying horse all have walked, flown, swam or slithered across the screen, the more cinematic, the better.

Many more haven’t made the cut, however (at least not yet). This may be due to their not being interesting enough, or not having shown up in entertainment mythology in a sufficiently popular movie. But many of these creatures do have potential.

One monster is the manticore, a man-eating creature from Persian (modern day Iran) mythology.

Manticore, man eating monster

Like many mythic beasts, it is an odd amalgamation of various animals. It has the head of a man with three sets of formidable teeth, the body of a lion and the tail of a scorpion. In some illustrations, like the one above, the tail is a bristle of poisonous spines which the creature can shoot like arrows. Later accounts placed it in India as by then Persia was well known enough so that scholars noted the decided lack of manticores in that land. In modern times, the manticore is sufficiently unfamiliar that some artists have erroneously given it a lion’s face. But this is a bizarre enough monster that it will surely make its way onto the big screen at some point, if it hasn’t already.

While fire-breathing dragons are a staple in many fantasy movies and tv series, the Chinese dragon is profoundly different.

chinese dragon or Loong

More correctly named the loong or lung, it is drastically different from the western dragon. Instead of fire, it is strongly associated with water and is considered a manifestation of chi, bringing good fortune, power and strength. It doesn’t waste time accumulating treasure or devouring virgins. It has no need for them. The loong can shapeshift as it wishes, from the size of a tiny caterpillar to as great as the universe itself, even on occasion, taking human form. It is often accompanied by a flaming pearl representing wisdom, spirituality, immortality and other valued attributes. While loongs are usually presented as beneficent, they do have their wrathful moments, deluging mortals who displease them with floods and violent storms. Hmmm, you know, this sounds familiar. If you’ve been watching the news, you no doubt noticed the nasty weather which has been hitting us lately. Maybe it’s time we got our act together and stop doing stuff to infuriate the loong.

Native American stories are replete with tales of various creatures,some friendly, some very dangerous. Among Cherokee people is the tale of the creature known as a nun’yunu’wi, literally translated as dressed in stone.

Nunyunuwi or cannibal monster

Humanoid in appearance, the nun’yunu’wi has sorcerous powers, among them a stone cane which the creature uses to locate prey, namely humans. Nearly unstoppable due to his arrow-proof stony skin, he does have one fatal weakness; a menstruating woman. One tale has a warrior running to warn his village after spotting an approaching nun’yunu’wi. The village elder locates seven menstruating women and lines them up along the road leading to their village. As the women are stark naked, there is no mistaking their condition. The nun’yunu’wi encounters each one, much to his horror, as he tries to near the village. Working like kryptonite, the women’s menstrual blood reduces this menace to utter helplessness so the villagers can destroy him.

One twist to this story which I find very interesting is that the nun’yunu’wi doesn’t seem to resent his destruction by the villagers. In fact, there’s no animosity, at all. He doesn’t curse them out or bewail his fate. While they set fire to a great pile of logs over him, he accepts it all philosophically and proceeds to teach them prayers and magic spells which can help them in day to day living. Once he is burnt to ashes, the people sweep away the ashes only to discover a lump of red paint and a magic stone, again which are used for their benefit. This tale reveals a striking difference in attitude from stories we might tell. There’s no abominable evil creature spewing hateful bile whereever it goes, no unredeemable nihilistic demon and no gleeful celebration over its death. Instead it’s just a very dangerous monster which, while it needs to be destroyed for the people’s safety, still can be helpful even in its dying moments and beyond.

Australia is also brimming with supernatural wonders of every kind. The local people speak of a being called a mimi, a kind of aboriginal fairy. It has a long, spindly fragile body and because it’s vulnerable to winds that could tear it to pieces, it lives in rock crevices.

Australian Mimi or fairy spirit

Native people tell how mimis lived on the land before aboriginal people came. They were and still are regarded as generally friendly and even playful, though they may get annoyed if you are disrespectful. It is said that the mimi taught the humans how to build fires, hunt kangaroos as well as showing them how to dance, sing and paint. Art depicting the wonderful wispy mimis can be found on many outcroppings and in artwork done by native peoples.

Another mysterious creature, found mainly in England but also in Europe as well, is the Black Dog. This spectral being, obviously in the form of a black dog, is often described in countless folktales.

Black Shuck or demonic dog

One form is the Black Shuck, a strange ferocious brute, a terrifying black dog with one eye. It’s said that if you meet it, it can be the worst of luck for you and may even presage your death. Arthur Conan Doyle used this creature as an inspiration for his Sherlock Holmes novel, Hound of the Baskervilles.

Many times these mysterious canines are seen along roadsides or near bridges. Sometimes the spectral hounds are white rather than black. But not all Black Dogs are evil however. Some have been known to guide lost travelers to safety. A good book to read about these spirit forms is Black Dog Folklore by Mark Norman

Interestingly the Black Dog has made its way to the Americas, apparently immigrating along with Europeans, spawning tales in both South and North America. An area called the Bridgewater Triangle, a section of land in southeastern Massachusetts noted for paranormal phenomenon has had sightings of the Black Dog along with countless other strange beings.

So what’s your favorite mythic creature?

Entertaining the gods unaware

Offering hospitality towards visitors is an old custom, common to every culture you could think of. In traditional cultures it was often considered a moral obligation. You needed to treat any visitor, either people you knew or strangers from a far off place with equal courtesy. Underlying it is the idea of treating others as you yourself would wish to be treated if you were in a strange place.

In ancient Greece, it was known as Xenia. In a time when conflict could be just an insult away, it was important to treat guests with generosity. You might never know who was sitting at your table as a guest. Folk tales gave accounts of what happened to those who either honored Xenia or violated it. Once Zeus and Hermes, disguised as mortals, tested the hospitality of a village. Looking like beggars they were spurned by nearly everyone except an elderly impoverished couple who welcomed the strangers into their home and shared what little they had with their visitors. The gods punished the other villagers by sweeping them away in a flood while sparing Philemon and Baucis because of their generosity.

A similar attitude exists in India, where it is explicitly assumed the visitor might be a divinity in disguise and should be treated accordingly. The Odyssey depicted a variety of tales exhibiting the benefits of Xenia. It also showed what would happen if Xenia was violated. The cyclops Polyphemus not only failed to show any hospitality to his visitors, he even devoured several of them with relish before being blinded by the wily Odysseus.

In the novel I’m currently writing, a character is introduced and has an unusual experience which unbeknownst to him involves a bit of Xenia….

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Officer Joseph Burrows munched on his roast beef sandwich, occasionally popping in a large wedge of potato fry. He had settled his chunky frame at one of the outdoor tables set up in the tiny park a few blocks from the station. The seat was hard as a rock but he wasn’t going to sit in it long enough to make his hip ache. Just long enough to chow down and then scoot back to work. As usual the take-out fries were good if a bit salty but they always cooled too quickly. He wished there was a good way to keep them warm. The cardboard container they were in just didn’t cut it. Maybe he should bring one of those insulated plastic containers his wife used. Just something to hold the heat in while he ate them. Maybe Keith was willing to eat cold fries but he sure as hell couldn’t. Keith could eat pretty much anything without even hiccuping. He wasn’t on duty today though so Joe would have to toss the cold ones. He hated wasting them but there was just no way he could eat them. They’d sit like a lump of lead in his stomach for the rest of the day if he did.

The rookie assigned to him should be starting today. Jacob Armstrong was tall, lean, with auburn hair and the kind of light complexion that would burn like a torch if he stood out in the sun too long. Fresh out of the police academy, he was bright eyed and bushy tailed, obviously raring to go. Joe always looked forward to showing the new kids the ropes. They’d start out so wet behind the ears they’d leave a puddle behind them but he’d guide them along, correcting any misconceptions they had, watch them fumble a bit but then pick it up little by little. The new kid looked so clean cut, Joe was surprised he didn’t squeak when he walked. But he suspected Jacob was sharp enough that he would probably catch on quick. The department always assigned the most promising ones to him. Whatever rough edges he had, Joe would expertly trim off, buffing and honing him. With any luck he’d leave a good officer behind to take his place. Damn, he’d miss all this once he retired.

A passing taxi honked its horn repeatedly, the driver leaning out the window glaring at the vehicle in front of him, swearing and giving the classic New York City salute with a tobacco stained digit. Joe shook his head. He knew the guy, having cited him a few times for illegal parking. Once of these days he was going to wave his finger at the wrong guy and then all hell would break loose. People were so damn short-tempered these days. With any luck Joe would already be drawing his pension by then. I’ll have to remember to warn Jacob about that moron so he’ll know to watch for him. Joe took another bite of the roast beef.

An enormous black bird soared down and landed on the concrete barrier near him, shaking its feathers out as it settled down. Joe’s eyes had a little difficulty focusing on the thing at first. Jesus, that’s not a crow, it’s a raven. He thought, as his eyes finally adjusted to the size of the bird sitting just five feet away. A feeling of unreality settled around him. Christ, he’s a big mother. I didn’t realize they got that big. He looks like he could take on Uncle Sam’s eagle. The raven stared at him intently, black eyes shining with ageless intelligence, then looked down at the package of fries.

“Hungry.” It croaked unmistakably. “I’m hungry.”

It took a moment for Joseph to remember to swallow the piece of sandwich he had been chewing on. The feeling of unreality increased. Okay, Joe my man. A giant raven just asked you in perfect English for a handout. What are you going to do? Well, there were several options, running off screaming being one of them. But this was New York City. The Big Crazy Apple. There was only one thing he could do.

“You can have the fries. I’m not going to be able to finish them.”

“Thank you.” replied the raven, Who hopped down and quickly polished them off. Once done He flew off. Joseph watched Him for a moment, powerful wing strokes taking the bird, if that’s what it was, rapidly out of sight. He finally shook his head. The wife will never believe it. Never. Hell, I don’t believe it. He had the odd feeling he had just been tested in some way though he wasn’t sure what the test was for. Probably one of those things he’d have to wait on until he got to the Pearly Gates before he found out the answer. Finally he laughed and finished his lunch.

Hugin, resuming His journey around the world, burped. In spite of the Age of Iron, it was nice that some mortals still had respect for otherworldly beings. Most humans would have just run or tossed a rock at Him. This one had responded correctly, with generosity, which pleased Him and would no doubt please His Lord as well. But He probably shouldn’t have eaten those fries. It felt like they were going to sit like a lump of lead in His belly the whole trip.

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So always show courtesy and generosity to whoever or whatever you meet. You just never know….

What are gods?

While researching online for various divinities and ageless beings for populating the book I am writing, I have on occasion come across a peculiar delusion infesting odd corners here and there. Namely that ancient gods were actually aliens from other worlds. Never mind the fact that the stupendous distance between stars makes such voyages if not impossible at least very improbable, the idea that the beings our ancestors worshiped were material entities much like ourselves only more ‘advanced’ is a bit blasphemous. At the very least it’s ridiculous.

This probably all got its start in the mid-twentieth century when the old view of ancient gods being either demons or just non-existent had largely faded away. With the advent of high tech and clearer views of what lay beyond the earth, an idea of divinities being more concrete in origin began to surface. The original Star Trek series had an episode where the crew of the Enterprise encountered a being who called himself Apollo demanding that they worship him.

It turned out this being was in fact an alien with sophisticated technology which the intrepid Captain Kirk and his merry band of officers managed to overcome. Subsequent iterations of Star Trek had the same trope, with Deep Space Nine showing the gods that the Bajorians worshiped as actually being aliens living inside a wormhole.

A series of pot boiler books over the years has added fuel to the addled fire starting with Eric Von Daniken’s Chariots of the Gods then Zecharia Sitchin’s The Twelfth Planet and more recently with Graham Hancock’s works (which sound like thinly disguised rip-offs of Eric’s earlier writings). For some reason the pantheon of gods from old Mesopotamia, the Annunaki, have been singled out with a fair amount of rubbish written about them. Reading reviews of the above books gives me the strange feeling people don’t really know what a god is anymore.

Well, needless to say, this all just begs to get skewered. Since the god Marduk is one of the characters in The Age of Dionysus, I decided to write my own send-up of all this. The following scene opens with two characters, Zeke and Brian, both small time crooks, who re-encounter each other in a cafeteria run by Maenads as the Maenads have taken over part of Manhattan. Brian tries to explain to Zeke about Dionysus and the other gods and is met with a certain initial skepticism. Until…..

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As Zeke spoke, Brian could feel a faint vibration, as of heavy footsteps. Ripples began appearing in the coffee Zeke had set on the table. Zeke looked around baffled.

“Huh? Is that a pile driver or something?”

“Nope. It’s Marduk. He kowtows to Dionysus but He struts around like He’s the one in charge. Here He comes…”

Marduk barely fit through the doorway leading to the rear of the building even though it was big enough to drive a pick-up through. His head brushed the top of the door jamb. At least He had gotten rid of that stove-pipe shaped hat He had when Brian first saw Him. But He still wore the shawl-like robe, golden belt and sandals, apparently refusing to update His wardrobe. Brian could see Zeke out of the corner of his eye, his jaw nearly hitting the table. The skinny man gripped the table edge in white knuckled shock, his eyes bulging.

“Sweet baby Jesus.” whispered Zeke.

“Oh-oh.” said Brian stiffening. “Here comes trouble. He must have gotten past the Maenads at the door. See that fat little guy with the goatee?”

“Yeah, that’s the weirdo who handed me some dopey flier about a space alien conspiracy.” said Zeke. “I just threw it in the trash. I take it he’s not supposed to get in?”

“Yeah, but it’s too late now to stop him. He’s zeroing in on Marduk.”

The intruder, dressed in a blue serge suit just barely fitting him, clutched several books crammed with loose papers. Before anyone could stop him, he positioned himself directly in front of Marduk, Who halted and scowled at this impertinent mortal.

“Great Annunaki of the world of Shibru, it’s very important I discuss something with you.”

“Eh? What are you blathering about? What is Shibru?”

“Why – why the planet you come from.” replied the man, looking a little nonplussed.

“I come from here, you ignorant lump of mud.” growled Marduk.

“Oh, well, I mean I’m sure you were born here but your ancestors came from the planet Shibru.”

“Someone has put termites in your brain.” Marduk replied straightening until His head nearly brushed one of the ceiling fixtures. “I am a child of Mother Earth, just as you, unfortunately, are. My Mother is a water goddess and My Father Enki, Lord of the Waters. You are fortunate He has Transcended or He would be stamping you into the earth for mouthing such nonsense.”

“But – but – “ The man clearly had some sort of conspiracy script running in his head and Marduk wasn’t following it. Taking a deep breath, he tried again, pointing at the books he held. “Well, I understand that you Annunaki genetically engineered my ancestors to dig gold for you – “

“I do not know or care what you are talking about.” boomed Marduk, His voice making the walls vibrate. “You humans mine gold for yourselves because you think it’s valuable. Why should I care about or want it?” Suddenly He reached out and snatched the books from the man and began thumbing through them, loose papers falling to the floor as He turned pages. Apparently Marduk could read English because His face grew dark as a thundercloud.

“What is this madness? My brethren coming half a million years ago? Why We were all born after the glaciers melted, not before. And why would We need slaves?” Marduk threw the books on the floor and with a slight gesture materialized a huge club. It looked like it had been carved from a tree trunk and was topped with a soccer ball sized metal sphere bristling with spikes. He brandished it menacingly while pointing at the books. “Did you write this?”

“Oh – oh no, no!” stammered the man, his face ashen, finally grasping he was in danger. “It – it was written by a Mr Von Kovski. He – he said your people came in spaceships and – and built the pyramids -”

Marduk burst out laughing.

“The Egyptians themselves built the pyramids. We gods have no need for such structures and even if We did, We would not need slaves or anyone at all to build them. You humans are the ones who made them. Do you really think so little of yourselves that you believe you lack the wit or strength to make such things? If I ever meet this Mr. Von Kovski, I will crush his skull for uttering such blasphemies. Now away with you!” Marduk swept His massive hand, knocking the unfortunate man into some tables near Brian and Zeke, where he lay groaning. Marduk resumed walking and went out into the street, the outer door He passed through already looking as if He had been through it several times.

“Well, that ended a little better than I thought it would.” Said Brian, getting up to check on the man. The room had been dead silent during the exchange but now some of the Maenads began laughing in relief. One of them, a woman name Diane came over beside Brian.

“Somebody get a stretcher.” She called over her shoulder. “We probably better have Doctor Harris check this idiot out. I’m surprised Marduk didn’t kill him like He did that preacher.”

“Marduk must be in a good mood today. For Him that is.” replied Brian. He went back to sit down while the Maenads located a stretcher. Loading the dazed conspiracy theorist onto it, they hauled him off. The books and loose papers were swept up and tossed in a trash can. Zeke shook his head.

“Now I’ve seen everything. But what was that about a preacher?”

“Some bible-thumping fundie minister showed up a couple days ago. Apparently he thought all these gods are really demons so he was all set to do a rite of exorcism. Unfortunately he tried it on Marduk who just bashed him with that big club He’s got. That was the end of him.”

“I bet.” said Zeke. “Kind of an Old Testament type of god, huh?”

“Yeah, smite first and ask questions later.”

“Isn’t that Von Kovski guy dead now?” queried Zeke.

“Yeah, lucky him.” replied Brian, polishing off his coffee.

Ordinary life in the Age of Dionysus

Part of character development involves showing the daily lives of different individuals, revealing through their conduct what kind of people they are. Since daily life consists of ordinary tasks and unremarkable events when we first meet Alethia Kostopoulos, she seems perfectly ordinary, a widow who lives on the Greek island of Tzia. But we soon discover she is secretly a Maenad, a devotee of Dionysus. She believes herself to be the last one until Dionysus appears to her when she is in a trance state, revealing to her that not only is she not the last, she will be undertaking the task of training new Maenads for Him. A grandmother in her late seventies, she finds this a daunting task but devoted to her god, she willingly undertakes it. She journeys to America where her children and grandchildren live…..

It wasn’t until spring when finally with her passport in hand, Alethia passed through the Athens International airport, boarding the jet that whisked her away to a strange new land. The past months had crawled by, it seemed to her, but her son reassured her everything was going normally. Now it was finally happening. It was the first time she had ridden in a jet so she was dreadfully nervous. Peering out the window from her narrow cramped seat, her heart thumped at the sight of clouds beneath her rather than above.

New York City greeted her with a bewildering swirl of traffic, humans, incessant noise and acrid exhaust fumes. The only thing that made it bearable was being surrounded by her grown children and numerous grand-children who Alethia had only seen in photos or on Skype. As her oldest son drove the van crammed with her own offspring and theirs, her three youngest grandchildren, ranging from 8 years to 12 years excitedly pointed out landmarks to her. Trying to look up at the skyscrapers made her dizzy but she persisted, not wanting to appear as if she was overwhelmed by the scale of things compared with her tiny island home. The mad extravagance of it all amazed her. But it was the sad sight of beggars and homeless which brought home the corruption that underlay the mind boggling wealth that made this awesome city possible.

“Look, Yaya! Look!,” cried Hannah, the youngest. “That’s the Empire State Building! That’s the one King Kong climbed up.”

“Oh, don’t tell her that!” said ten year old Adrian scornfully. “She doesn’t watch movies.”

“I most certainly do.” replied Alethia crisply. “Your poor old Yaya isn’t so out of touch as all that! I know all about the silly movie about the giant monkey who carried the screaming lady to the top of the building. I saw that one when I wasn’t much older than you!”

Adrian sat back pouting. There seemed to be a game of one-upsmanship going on between him and his younger sister. Alethia smiled to herself. She had seen that game played many times by her own children at that age. Well, now it was her son’s turn to referee. She would just sit back and pretend to enjoy the tour her family were giving her. Inwardly she wondered how Dionysus planned on getting Maenads recruited. In the old days her aunt had told her they selected certain women and occasionally men and brought them to ceremonies where they drank the sacred wine to induce the trance state which allowed Dionysus to come to them. A mystical inner sense allowed them to determine who would be suitable. But it was a different world here and Dionysus was already here among mortals, though as yet He had not appeared to her.

“Mother, look!” said her second oldest child, Dionne. When her daughter was younger, Alethia had hopes she would be interested in becoming a Maenad. But she had never felt the inner push that would have shown her daughter was a candidate for initiation. Instead Dionne had gotten a business degree and now worked for a fashion agency. “That’s where I work.”

She looked at the building but saw only a decorative facade with an elegant canopy over the entrance. A tall slim dark-skinned woman chic in a handsome embroidered tunic and pants so tight Alethia wondered how the woman could bend over in them was just entering the building.

“Heavens!” She exclaimed in spite of herself. “Is that what young women wear these days?” Dionne laughed as Alethia went on. “Oh, I know I’m old fashioned. And I don’t know why I’m so surprised, especially with what some of the tourists who visited my island would wear.”

“Well, that is one of our models. We recruit men and women as models and train them. We represent them and get commissions by finding work with all kinds of fashion designers and advertising agencies. It’s a high pressure job but I’ve always enjoyed working there as an agent.”

As her daughter spoke, an idea began flickering in the back of Alethia’s mind. Even as a mortal in appearance, Dionysus would be an eye catcher. As a model, His picture would be everywhere, attracting anyone who might be a potential Maenad. She knew any god exuded a divine glamour. Would that show up in a photograph? He often appeared to her in dreams. She would have to try and remember to ask Him.

She stared wistfully at Central Park as they drove by it, fighting back a surge of homesickness. It would be nice to see something green once in a while.

“Do you have to pay to visit that park?”

“No, of course not, Yaya.” said Hannah. “You can go there any time. They have a merry-go-round and a zoo. In the winter, there’s a skating rink. Or you can just have a picnic. I like going there.”

“Well, I’m a little old to learn skating but a picnic sounds very nice.”

Well, once you’re settled in, we can arrange for one.” Said Dionne. “I’ll see if I can get everyone to come. That way we can have a big family get-together.”

The grandchildren squealed with delight at her words. Alethia smiled. They drove to her eldest son’s home on Long Island. She had only brought a small amount of luggage with her, not wanting to burden herself with too many possessions. Two suitcases of clothing, plus another with a few books and keepsakes were quickly taken inside. Both Hannah and Adrian jostled each other as they ushered her to her new bedroom.

“This used to be my room.” announced Adrian. “But now I have a new room in the addition we had built. Papa repainted this so it would make a guestroom but we decided it would make a good room for you.”

“We put in new curtains and rugs.” chimed in Hannah.

“I was going to tell her that.” shot back Adrian, heatedly, clearly annoyed over being robbed of his role as a tour guide.

“All right, you two.” said Lucas, standing in the doorway with his arms crossed. “Let’s give your Ya-ya a chance to settle in, not just make her stand there listening to the pair of you arguing.”

He escorted the two pouting youngsters out, then returned to give his mother a hug.

“Were Dionne and I ever like that?”

“Constantly.” She laughed. “Your father was usually the peacemaker. You’ve taken over his role, I see.”

“They seem to mind me more than they do Kathy. Margaret’s still at soccer practice and won’t be home until supper. Do you want me to help you get your things put away?”

“No.” She replied sighing. “It’s all been a bit overwhelming and I think I’m feeling a little touch of that jet lag you told me about. I’ll wait until tomorrow to unpack.”

“Of course.” He replied, hugging her again. “You can come down and take your ease on the sofa while the children argue about how you should be entertained. Margaret’s been very anxious to meet you in person for the first time, instead of on Skype.”

“I’m looking forward to meeting all my grandchildren. Somehow seeing them only on a computer screen just isn’t the same.”

Supper was thankfully a low key affair after the exhausting day. Margaret dashed in just before they started eating, a slender dark haired girl just putting on her first teenage growth spurt. She proved to be more quiet in person than on Skype as her younger siblings easily out-talked her. Well, there would be time enough to get acquainted with her in the days to come.

The next day as Alethia sorted out the contents of her luggage, placing items on the bed, she was assisted by Margaret. Hannah and Adrian, the novelty of their grandmother’s arrival having worn off, were outside playing, giving their older sister a chance to shine. As the pair went through the various items in the suitcases, they chatted about Alethia’s homeland. Margaret, at thirteen already showed promise of great beauty, her dark eyes thoughtful, her generous mouth quick with a smile. She was eager for stories about her father as a child which delighted Alethia who had plenty to tell…….

Back Stories for Gods

Goddess Athena

Writing about characters who are gods includes noting something about their backgrounds. A problem which quickly crops up is that how the ancients viewed their divinities doesn’t really sit well with modern audiences. Zeus with His endless peccadillos and Hera (who’s His sister!) as the perpetually jealous spouse is one example. The late poet Robert Graves pointed out that one of the functions of myth is to justify an existing social system so the ancient myths say far more about the ancient Greeks than they do about the gods Themselves.

The simplest solution is of course rewrite the myths so they are more palatable for today’s readers (and make a little more sense). The tale of Semele, Dionysus’s mother, asking to see what Zeus’s true form was and getting fried as a result, with Dionysus subsequently being incubated in Zeus’s thigh has been changed to her dying in childbirth and Zeus’s son being given to Silenus to foster. The image of Athena popping full grown out of the head of Zeus after He swallowed Her mother Metis just to evade the prophecy of Her giving birth to a son that might overthrow him always seemed to have an element of the absurd about it. So I gave that a major rewrite in the following section from my book in progress.

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They were known by many names; the Moirai, the Parcae, the Sudice, the Norns. They existed in a place that was not a place, in the Otherworld yet not of it. Seated on a great dais suspended in the Otherworld mists, looming even mightier than the primeval Titans, They sometimes had the appearance of males but the majority of the time They were female, either taking the form of young or old women. An colossal tapestry inched its way out from Their hands, colors both worldly and unworldly spun with inconceivable intricacy, stretching out into the amorphous distance, even beyond Athena’s ability to see. So They had been weaving even before the beginning of time. They drew out thread, wove, adjusted, rethreaded and snipped implacably, seldom speaking, never stopping. When She came into Their presence, They rarely acknowledged Her.

It was a conceit of humans that the Moirai governed every moment of each human’s life from birth to death. To a certain extent that was true but Their constant weaving and reweaving ensured the coherence of the ever shifting universe. Because of that, mortals could freely choose the course of their lives within the confines of the laws of the material realm. Events affecting both mortals and divinities went into the tapestry, creating a pattern so complex even Athena for all Her wisdom could not fathom it. In Her early efforts to probe the essence of the Fates work, She once had a vision of the mighty tapestry reaching out into the measureless distance, merging with other tapestries woven by other Fates forming a thread which still mightier Fates took and wove with yet other threads into vaster tapestries in Their turn.

She had begun a tapestry of Her own in the hopes of counteracting Her Brother’s actions. But She had to be careful it did not work to cross purposes to anything the Moirai were creating. Sometimes She could catch a brief glimpse of the underlying harmony contained withing Their weavings. It finally occurred to Her that anything She did would simply be incorporated into Their own work. Better to save Her worries for what Her half-Brother meant to do. But She couldn’t shake Her anxiety.

“I weave to derail His plans.” She said, more to Herself than the Moirai. “But I have to be careful not to counteract what You are doing. He’s so certain what He’s doing is right. He doesn’t understand that events work themselves out of their own accord. It doesn’t need to be pushed or manipulated. We only need to work with what happens.”

The Moirai continued Their work on the endless tapestry, seemingly oblivious to Her. But She suspected They were listening. Her Father said They heard everything. At one time He had stood where She did, attempting to consult Them. He had returned with a scowl on His face. Either They never answered Him or the answer was not to His liking.

But Zeus had gone ahead with His War against the Titans so many ages ago certain He was doing the right thing, Her Mother Metis pushed aside when She attempted counseling against it. The schism this created between Them never healed. Athena watched sadly as Her Mother quit Her throne and left Olympus eventually Transcending, leaving Her Helmet, Shield and Great Owl for Her Daughter. The chaos set off by the overthrow of the Titans and the ending of the Golden Age took several millennium to stabilize. Hera became new co-ruler of Olympus with Zeus but the peace of the Golden Age was gone, replaced by a brittle calm. It would not always remain this way. There were Great Cycles within Great Cycles. The ancient harmony of old would return but in its own time and way. Her Brother’s efforts to rush it based on the signs He was convinced were there would only prolong the Age of Iron, not end it.

“He won’t listen.” She said quietly. “I’m the voice of the past. He thinks His is the future. What can I do to ensure His failure?”

She hadn’t expected any response from the Moirai. But one of the veiled figures, Clotho, suddenly turned towards Her and threw a spool of thread to Her. Although startled, She caught the spool deftly.

“Use or do not use. It is Your choice.” It was Atropos the Unturning Who spoke. The enormous figure resumed Her snipping and re-threading. It was the first time Athena had heard more than two words from any of Them.

The thread was darker than night. The spool would have fit in the hand of a human but was so heavy a half dozen would have been needed to lift it. Athena shuddered when She looked at it. Thread this dark could only have one purpose. But the Moirai said it would be Her choice. With the constant morphing of the vast tapestry under Their hands, nothing was truly carved in stone. Did this mean She could still turn events? She felt a scowl not unlike Her Father’s beginning to furrow Her brow. She relaxed Her face. Her father had no doubt received a similar enigmatic answer which would have infuriated Him. He preferred certainty to ambiguity. But Athena was more comfortable with uncertainty. She tucked the spool into her pouch.

Do not use. That would be Her goal. Stubborn like Their Father, Dionysus would plow ahead. Her task was to stymie his actions with so many obstacles, His plans would fall apart. Turning, She left the place which was not a place, through the Otherworld, back to Her pavilion, where a great loom awaited. She had the warp threads strung. Now for the weft. She pulled yarn out of the great ball beside Her seat. After hesitating, She took out the spool of black thread and after looking at it a moment, set it down beside the ball of yarn. Just in case. She thought. Just in case.

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