The arrow ripped open my pant leg, slicing into my thigh. Leave it to the Mythic Mafia to get all theatrical with their weapon choices.
“Are you hurt, sir?” the girl beside me asked.
“Shut up and run,” I ordered.
We raced around a corner. Well, she raced, and I limped.
“Reginald!”
At ten years old, I was well-versed in my mother’s acoustic range and recognized this dangerous pitch. I peered out from under my covers—the clock announced “8:00 a.m.” in bright red. On a Saturday morning. Why was I already in trouble?
Panic pulsated through me.
Please help me! A faint tinny voice pleaded.
“Athenis, did you hear someone?” I yelled above the buzzing alarms.
Athenis glanced up, her screen’s warning messages reflecting red on her scaly, humanoid face. “No. We’re the only ones securing this sector.” She continued nonchalantly swiping away alerts on her handheld interfacer.
Read it now
The gulls were the worst part. Daedalus had expected that, though not the reason why.
Often enough had he and his son, Icarus, seen those feathered thieves shrieking and snatching fish, fruit, or whatever else they could gobble along the Cretan shoreline. They’d had plenty of opportunity for such observations. Crete’s ruler
I find my father standing on the balcony overlooking our courtyard, his arm drawn back, a trident in hand, aiming at my airship.
“This invention is worse than Icarus’s wings,” Páppa shouts.
“Don’t!” I drop my sewing. Strips of whalebone scatter on the floor. Instead of winding through my side of our U-shaped home,
The sound of sobbing cleaved the war-torn air, assailing Hephaestus’s aching and stiff joints. It wasn’t just the grief rattling him—he knew that voice. And he’d never heard her cry like this before. Pushing off his cane, he propelled himself forward, increasing the pace of his uneven limp with every step.
Read it now
“Hades, why was my mother even in New Orleans?” Persephone’s gentle voice tickled Hades’ ear as she threaded her arm through his.
Crowds upon crowds pulsed near them, swaying to jazz music. The sweet aroma of beignets swirled through the air, only adding to the nausea swelling in Hades’ stomach. His uneasiness grew…
Most people think the life of a Muse is easy. Sounds like a breeze, doesn’t it? You sit around all day eating Pringles and drinking Coke as you throw scrumptious ideas at your constantly inspired, always eager-to-please writer. Sure thing, mate. It’s the life. The good ol’ American dream. Piece of cake
Read it now
Gods, I hate the overworld. It’s bad enough that everyone mistakes me for the goddess of death. I’m only the keeper of souls—and I didn’t even ask for that job.
Also, everything up here makes me sneeze.
I hold in another one as I look around this stupid hippie commune. My sister,
The cave entrance was obsidian black, even in mid-afternoon with the sun shining behind me. A wisp of a cool breeze hit my face. Beckoning. Warning. I ventured forth, drawing my sword from its sheath. A single torch lit the terra path before me as I weaved my way into Athena’s temple,
Read it now
Twenty-four hours to weave garments fit for a queen. Arachne’s hands shook as a guard shoved her into the small weaving room and slammed the door shut behind her. She looked up at the massive heap of purple chaff just ahead, covering the shadowed floor in front of her.
This is what I get.
Halfway up the drive of his sprawling estate, Master Oros encountered the first silver statues. Sunlight slid over them in a soft yellow hue, matching the shimmering, golden tips of his own fingers.
The front gate guards stood motionless, bent over, hands clasped to their knees
Recent Comments