Tara Griffin 7/2/22 Tara Griffin 7/2/22

Twilight of the Gods (Part 4)

“Do you love me?” Hades asks.

“I’m your wife.” I reply.

He looks up from his book. “I kidnapped you and tricked you into living with me.”

“Do you love me?” Hades asks.

“I’m your wife.” I reply.

He looks up from his book. “I kidnapped you and tricked you into living with me.”

“You tricked me into living with you part-time. I’m the one that decided to stay with you for the full year.”
My mother was still making the seasons go around, but that was only because the mortals had learned to rely on them. She’d accepted that sometimes children get married and leave at this point.

She’d mainly been working on Global Warming with Zeus as a warning for mortals to stop hurting the planet.

It didn’t, by the way.

Honestly, my mother hadn’t been doing too well lately. She’d barely reacted when I told her Ragnarok was coming.

I don’t think she cares.

I care.

I’m not fated to die in Ragnoarok, I’m one of the few that survive.

I still dread it even more than my mother, for both she and Hades will.

“Fair enough.” Hades said. “I just want to spend our last few years together as happy as we can be. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Hades has grown awfully insecure in the past few years.

He comes to me for surety on everything, as if I am the God of the Underworld.

I don’t know what the root of his insecurity is. I’m considering having Hestia take a look at him, but she’s busy dealing with Aphrodite.

“Why don’t we go on a date in the mortal world?”

“Huh?”

“A date. In the mortal world. We haven’t done that since...well, we haven’t done that in a while.”

“Okay. Sure. Where do you want to go?”

“I don’t know. Let’s use the internet to find out.”

I don’t have a phone, but Hades does. We only recently built cell towers in the Underworld. Except Tarturus. That place has no cell service or WiFi.

Sometimes I like to revel in the bad people’s pain. It’s fun to watch Hitler perform Jewish Traditions in order to receive his daily dose of air.

If there’s one thing I like Hades coming to me for, it’s ideas for punishments.

I pick up Hades’ phone, which he left on the table, and look up “Best restaurants in the mortal realm.”

I find a restaurant I think I will like and we surface there.

“I’ll have the steak.” I say. Hades, the Lord of the Dead, orders soup.

Honestly, of all times to know that he was going to die soon, this might have been the worst.

If I ask him what’s wrong, he’ll say he’s going to die soon, but there was something off before that.

I was always bad at being Hestia.

“So...we haven’t really talked in a while. What…..what’s been happening in your world?”

“I’m dying soon. That’s pretty great. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to push my problems onto you.”

“You’re not pushing your problems onto me. Hades, I want to hear about your problems.”

Hades sighs.

“Please, tell me what’s wrong?”

“Fine. I...I spend all this time trying to be benevolent. I try so hard to get humanity to like me, because I care what they think. I always have. So, I’m generous. I punish the people they don’t like, and reward the ones they do. How do they repay me? I become some cartoonishly evil. I let some young fool’s lover come back to life if he completes one of the easiest tasks imaginable, and they repay me by making it seem like I devised some meticulous plan, that nobody could resist looking back, that I’m some greedy wealthy man. Zeus and Apollo go after countless women and men without their consent, and it’s overlooked, but I kidnap you once and suddenly it’s all people remember about me.”

“It’s alright to care what people think, and you’re right, it’s not fair how vilified you are, especially when it comes to me. I love you, Hades. Maybe that could be enough?”

“I don’t know. Maybe, but you were so happy all the time before you came down here. You were so...different. You liked things like frolicking, and, I don’t know, happy things. Did I corrupt you?”

“Hades, I was what people expected a child of Demeter to be. I wanted to live up to those expectations, but that’s never who I was. Do you honestly think I’d be stupid enough to eat those seeds if I didn’t want to stay in the underworld with you? It’s the only place I felt like I could really be me.”
“Maybe you should be the God of the Underworld, then.”

“Even if I wanted to do that, I don’t have the kind of control over it that you do. Sisyphus is almost to the top of the hill. He’s been getting closer and closer for the past few years. It doesn’t respond to me as it does to you. It needs you. Plus, I need you. I want to make the most of our last few years together. I know I survive, so I shouldn’t get to be sad…”

“Of course you should get to feel sad, Persephone! Losing so many people is going to be hard for you? What are we doing here? I don’t like being in the mortal world. As much as I love the people here, their restaurant service is slow. Let’s just summon our dinner and eat it in front of Tantalus.”

I shrug.”That sounds fun.” I say, and we disappear.

Tara Griffin 7/1/22 Tara Griffin 7/1/22

Twilight of the Gods (Part 3)

I reel back.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Bast just stares at me, solemnly.

“It’s true. Balder’s dead. You’re the first one I came to for this.”

I stand in shock. I didn’t know it would happen this soon.

People walk around us. Some ask what’s wrong.

I don’t know what to tell them.

“The end of the world is coming soon?”

“I have cancer.” I say, and I get some condolences.

I probably spend more time in the mortal realm than any other god.

I actually have a job here. Many, actually.

Many versions of me, spread through numerous college campuses across the globe.

“Professor Thoth, is everything alright?”

A student asks.

I give my cancer reply. He looks heartbroken.

“Oh. You’re my favorite teacher. I’m sorry.”

“That’s...that’s alright.”

I tell Bast to try to blend in a little more.

She stands out among the crowd by a lot, and is not following the dress code.

Bast has committed to never actually changed out of her outfit, as she prefers not to give in to humanity. She has changed her outfit’s design twice, though.

Once when it became illegal to show her breasts in most interesting places.

A second time when a mortal designer gave her a really good idea.

“I have to spread the news to all the other gods, anyway.”

Bast leaves. At least she hadn’t come to me looking like a cat, like she sometimes does.

My next class is in five minutes.

Ragnarok.

Odin was the first to find out about it, so we use the Norse name.

Hecate and I were the second and third to figure it out, when we attempted to fact-check Odin.

It’s coming.

It’s coming for me. For Bast. For all of us.

I couldn’t finish the great battle. I never found out what happens to me.

Odin was more concerned with the Norse Gods, and Hecate with the Greek.

I saw Ra, Bast and Osiris die and I couldn’t take any more.

I guess Hecate and Odin are stronger than I am, and I have no chance of surviving this battle.

“I know we said that we would be learning about Mayan Gods today, but I’m going to change up the schedule a bit. I’m going to talk about what each mythology believed would be the end of the world.”

I talk for an hour before I go back to my office.

I have to grade these papers.

I don’t.

Instead, what I do is close my eyes.

I think of the knowledge that I want to gain.

And I see it.

Myself, on the battlefield, Isis holding my injured body.

“Let me heal you.” She says.

“I’m not important.” I reply.

“What’s your secret name?” She says.

“Huh?”

“I have a balm that can heal you very quickly if I have your secret name. Made a whole batch for Ra and only used some.”

I tell her.

She heals me.

We fight.

I see a giant club coming right for me. I panic.

Isis pushes me out of the way, getting hit instead.

“I’m not losing anyone else.” She says.

I snap out of my trance.

I wanted to watch until my death, I thought that I was it.

It wasn’t. It was Isis’, and I couldn’t bear to watch any more again.

Seeing all the death in great detail, it was too much.

I grab a paper and try to grade it.

I’m distracted. The paper probably has many mistakes in it, but I don’t see any.

I set it down and cry for a little bit.

The futures that Hecate sees are often malleable.

The futures that Odin sees are rarely malleable.

The futures that I see have always come true. Every time.

And now, there’s only a short time left.

Someone walks in.

“Professor Thoth? Your head is a bird or something.”

I wipe the student’s memory and change my head to its human state.

“Professor Thoth? I had a few questions about the paper due next Wednesday.”

“Yes, what is it, Kaley?”

“Well, you said it had to be about a mythological figure. What exactly constitutes mythology?”

“I’d define it as any religion that has not been widely believed in for 500 years or so.”

“Okay. Thank you. I heard you had cancer. My condolences.”

“Thank you.”

She begins to walk away, before I call out to her.

“Kaley?”

“Yes?”

I don’t know what I want to say. I love all of my students so much. Their deaths will possibly be even more tragic than most gods’.

“Be safe.”

“Okay. Bye, Professor.”

I straighten the name tag on my desk.

“Phillip Thoth.”

That’s what it says.

I close my eyes again. I want to see how Kaley will die.

I look into the future and see her, at about age fifty, swallowed up by Surtur’s fire.

Age fifty? That means we only have thirty years left.

That’s much less than I thought.

Tara Griffin 7/1/22 Tara Griffin 7/1/22

Little by little

I am not infallible.

I’ve actually made several mistakes, believe it or not.

If even I can make mistakes, there’s no reason to feel bad about yours.

Please, drop the ball.

If you don’t put the ball on the ground, I can’t throw it for you.

You do want me to throw it, otherwise you wouldn’t be following me around with a ball, right?

I feel strange.

Like my head was screwed on 45 degrees too much to the left this morning.

And I can barely see the things that are right in front of me.

I ate a cheese sandwich.

It was the best cheese sandwich I’d ever had.

I’d have another, if possible, but unfortunately, it is not.

Cry me a river.

I’ll make a waterwheel.

You’ll see. We’ll get rich off of your tears.

Hey mom!

What’s up with the dog, she acting weird.

Never mind, I’m sure it’s normal.

Drink our new, special wine.

It’s fine and will make you shine if you have a spine

While you dine, you’ll find it’s designed to be the very best.

Sequel to the hit movie “Joy”

Comes “Joy 2: The World.”

In which our optimistic protagonist teams up with Santa Claus and a Bullfrog named Jeremiah?

You said parking was free!

You lied to me!

After all these years, you”re still nothing but a liar!

Tara Griffin 7/1/22 Tara Griffin 7/1/22

Alibi

Ally ran down a dark hallway. She needed to get Geraldine from her hotel room before they locked the doors for the night. She found her room and began frantically using her key, only to discover that it had stopped working when she checked out. A figure appeared in the hallway. Scared as Ally was, she got out her trusty sword and stabbed the door, making a small hole. She continued stabbing the door as the figure slowly walked closer. The hole was almost big enough to climb through when she saw the eldritch horror that was approaching her. The monster’s face opened to reveal a tentacle. The tentacle reached through the hole in the door and opened it from the inside. “There ya go.” Said the eldritch horror in an italian accent. “Thank you.” Ally said. She ran inside. “Wait. Where’s Gereldine?” “Oh,” the horror said. “Did you mean the stuffed tasmanian devil that was in here? I ate it. Hold on.” The Tentacle grabbed Ally and put her into the Horror’s mouth.

Ally found herself in a field. “I’m looking for a stuffed tasmanian devil!” She shouted. A voice in the sky said “quest accepted.” A mushroom grew legs and ran toward her. She stepped on it and it died. A monkey started throwing barrels at her, so she got out her trusty bow and arrow, and shot it in the belly button. A turtle walked up to her and said “You have become Mario.” It punched her and she shrank.

She kept shrinking until she found herself very tiny on the ground. A butterfly swooped down towards her. “Hop on my back!” Said the butterfly, and she did, although she fell off. “Oh well,” said the butterfly, and she kept flying. “I need a growth serum, some way to get big again.” Suddenly, she saw him. The One True God. “Hey, woah, yeah.” He said. “The Holy Grail will do that for ya. Here it is. Just walk along this road. See ya, bro.”

Ally walked and walked and walked, and she began to feel nauseous. She got to the end of the road. “There’s nothing here!” She yelled. She attempted to yell again, but she threw up before she could do that. Out of her mouth came no liquid but a shiny Holy Grail. “It was inside you all along, dude.” Said the One True God, who vanished once more. Ally drank from the grail and got big again. “Look, a mountain!” She said. She climbed up the mountain to find Gereldine, her pet stuffed tasmanian devil. “I’m stuffed.” Said Gereldine. “I should stop feeding you as much.” Ally replied. Quest complete.

Ally found herself outside the hotel room. “Thanks.” She told the eldritch horror. “No problem. Bye, Ally.” “What’d you say?”

“Ally, bye.”

Tara Griffin 7/1/22 Tara Griffin 7/1/22

Bloodless War

“A battle on the page, an insult in each verb.

Watch me win this bloodless war of words.”

“Actually, there is blood in this war, it just isn’t drawn.”

“SHUT UP, HARRY, I’M TRYING TO DEFEAT MY HATERS WITH PROSE!”

Tara Griffin 7/1/22 Tara Griffin 7/1/22

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Tara Griffin 7/1/22 Tara Griffin 7/1/22

The Time Capsule

”Hey Susan!”

“What?”

“The Time Capsule’s done broke!”

“Broke? How could it break?”

“Well, I can see inside, and yer ain’t s’posed ter see inside!”

“Did you try usin‘ tape?”

“Naw.”

“Try usin’ tape.”

“What?”

“TRY USIN’ TAPE!”

“Okay!”

“Hey Susan!”

“What?”

“Can ye get me the tape?”

“Sure.”

“Where’s the tape?”

“What?”

“I SAID, WHERE’S THE TAPE?”

“I dunno, check the tape bin.”

“I checked the tape bin.”

“Well, then, I don’t know where the tape is!”

“Oh, you lazy good-for-nothing sunova bitch, the time capsule won’ even be seen under the ground, what does it matter if it’s got a hole?”

“It’s got a hole!”

“.....yeah what does it matter if it’s got a hole?”

“A worm could get through and eat the Holy Books. You don’t want no holy worms runnin’ around the yard causin’ havoc, do ya?”

“Well worms can eat through tape!”

“Guess we’ll just have to get a new time capsule.”

“How’d you break that capsule anyway?”

“Didn’t say I broken it, I said it done broke.”

“Well how’d it break?”

“I hit it with the shovel when I wuz diggin’”

“Well, go dig in someone else’s lawn. We could use the income if we’re gon’ have to buy another time capsule.”

“.....What?”

“Go make some stinkin’ cash!”

“Gotta get hired to do that.”

“Well go get hired, then.”

“Fine.”

“Hey Susan!”

“In Jesus’ name, what is it?”

“Whassa time capsule?”

“It’s so we can have that stuff in the future.”

“Yeah but why have it in the future when we could have it now, an’ in better shape?”

“I dunno, you got me there.”

“Let’s give up on this dumb idea.”

“Fine then.”

And they did. The end.

Tara Griffin 7/1/22 Tara Griffin 7/1/22

Ad Break #1

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Tara Griffin 7/1/22 Tara Griffin 7/1/22

A Conversation That I Imagined Happened During a Near-Death Experience a Few Nights Ago

Once, on a cold night, a few nights ago, I stood in the garden. I allowed the wind to make contact with my skin. I absorbed the glow of the moon. I stared at The Wolf.

The Wolf’s eyes gave me a glare of ill intent. Her grey fur glowed from this distance. She whispered to me.

“What are you doing in the garden so late, and on such a cold night?”

She stepped toward me.

“I am here to feel the wind on my skin and absorb the glow of the moon.”

I replied, my voice shaky. This was not a friendly Wolf. This was a Wolf of malice, of nightmares. She continued to step toward me until her paw touched my foot. I felt her claw, sharp, and winced in pain.

“You have never been in the garden at night.” She whispered. “The garden at night has always belonged to me.”

The claw dug deeper into me with each word as The Wolf looked up at me.

“I am in the garden now.” I replied, more terrified than I ever had been. “And the garden is where I intend to stay. I believe we can share the garden.”

She lifted her paw from my foot and instead began circling me, a steady pace. Step. Step. Step. Step.

“I have never had to share the garden. I have always had the garden to myself, to feed upon the possums and the raccoons. I feed upon mammals in the garden. Now, the only mammal in the garden is the one within my circle.”

She lunged at my leg and bit it, bringing me to my knees and bringing us face-to-face. I could feel that blood had been drawn, as I felt it trickle down my horizontal lower leg and onto the garden floor.

“I decided to change one thing about my nightly schedule. I did not know you used the garden at this time.”

The Wolf snickered. She began pacing around me, stepping on my open wound.

“Neither do the possums, nor do the raccoons. What makes you different?”

I searched frantically for an answer to her question. There must be something that sets me apart from those small mammals.

“Unlike the possums, unlike the raccoons, I have friends. Friends that could kill you, were you to feast upon me.”

The Wolf pondered. I awaited her decision anxiously. Was it enough?

The Wolf nodded. “Leave here.” She said, and she sat down in front of me. I walked warily back inside my house.

I no longer stand in the garden at night, but every night since then I have sat at the window, watching The Wolf on the hunt. Perhaps the conversation was imaginary, but the danger, the intent, and the outcome, that was real.

Tara Griffin 7/1/22 Tara Griffin 7/1/22

A Tour of Melor: The Library

“Plethora,” is a good word to describe the number of books at the library of Melor. “A lot,” or “alot,” are also both good ways to describe them. “Alot” is a grammatically incorrect term, but libraries do not care about grammar nearly as much as the people that inhabit them, and only certain authors writing about libraries care about grammar. Although I, personally, prefer to have proper grammar most of the time, I would not classify incorrect grammar such as “alot” bad. So, while I wouldn’t use one of them, “A lot” and “alot” are also good ways to describe the number of books.

“Plethora” is not only a good word to describe the number of books in the Library of Melor, it is also a good word in general. It is three syllables, meaning it can easily be integrated into a haiku, but is still long enough to take up quite a bit of the line. Its accents, PLEthorA, also make it easy to use in iambic pentameter, a style of writing which I would be employing, were I less lazy. The middle syllable is “Thor,” a very good Norse God, and an almost as good Marvel Superhero. The people of Melor do not know of Thor’s existence, as they have yet to run into the Vikings, and Marvel has yet to exist.

However, the word “plethora” is only good, and certainly not perfect, when trying to describe the number of books in the Library of Melor. In order to find a more accurate word, let us examine a book. This book is titled “780 statistics you ought to know.” Within the book the following passage is presented.

“Statistic #307:

Were you to choose a book at random from the Library of Melor, you would have a 1 in 1,001,200 chance of finding this book.”

“780 statistics you ought to know” was published in the year 304. There were four copies of it in the Library of Melor in the year 304. This means that the most accurate word, as of the year 304, to describe the number of books in the Library of Melor is “4,004,800.” However, the most accurate word is not always the best. The best word to describe the number of books in the Library of Melor would ideally lie somewhere in the middle of “plethora” and “4,004,800.”

As of the year 304, there was a 1 in 4,004,800 chance, if a book was chosen from the Library of Melor at random, that the book “Secret Codes” would be chosen. Perhaps that’s why, for years, there has been a slip of paper between pages 23 and 24 of this specific book. Even if it were to be found, no one would be able to decipher it. No one would be able to figure out how it got there any more than I can, although I’ve tried hard. It is not a secret code. The reason the people of Melor cannot decipher it is because it was written in a language they don’t understand. I, however, understand the language, and you probably do too. In perfect English, yet imperfect handwriting, on a slip of paper, from the year 304, “Happy Birthday, Tara” is written.

There is something special about every book in the Library of Melor. Each copy of “780 statistics you ought to know” has its own little quirks that I could talk about. However, I shall only talk about my favorites, because I eventually want to have time to tell you about the rest of the wonderful city of Melor. How much fun will this be?

A plethora.

This is Jon Deregen, archeologist, signing out. Tune in for Part 2 of the Library in the Tour of Melor

Tara Griffin 7/1/22 Tara Griffin 7/1/22

Om

“Om,” said the giant, as he ate up Orlando

”Please don’t do that!” I proclaimed, “or I’ll fall like a glissando!”

The giant looked right at me, and I tried to stay calm.