When they called her name, she stared up blankly.
I don’t know who I am anymore.
She clenched her fists. Slick fingers rubbed up against each other with no friction. She held her hands to her face and looked at the color. The wetness clotted in places.
“Diana!”
The stag next to her lied still. A redness contrasted the whiteness of snow. The sun shone bright overhead from a frozen and cloudless sky. He ran so far, chased by his own dogs. He ran so long. He almost got away.
She looked up at a patch of barren oak trees, noted the way their bare branches cut jagged lines through the blue unending dome of sky.
“Diana.” A hand fell on her shoulder. A soft grip on her chin tilted her head up. She saw a face she almost recognized. “It’s me, Diana. It’s okay. You’re not in any trouble, baby. I promise. I’ve come to take you home.”
Diana looked at the stag again. She willed it to move, willed the chest cavity to rise and fall once more. It stayed still.
I don't know who I am anymore.
She closed her eyes. She reopened them, and the world changed.
Her ears heard sounds. Cars honked. A pair of policemen milled nearby talking together with hushed voices. She turned away from the field and saw the grey brick back of a strip mall.
She turned to the stag.
In place of the stag lay a man: not Actaeon, not a myth, just a man. A young man who had tried to…
She shuddered and pulled her legs up to her chest. She cried.
“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong. Shh.”
Diana found her voice. “Why’d he do it, Momma? Why’d he try to take me?”
Her mother looked to the policemen with glassy eyes. “Can I take her home now?” she asked. The words came out hitched and uneven. The woman released a stubborn sob.
The two men looked to each other. They nodded.
One of the policemen walked over. “The general manager says they have just about the whole incident on tape. Self-defense, so I don’t think anyone’s going to press any charges.” He reached out his hand to the mother to hand her something. Diana jerked away, startled by her own movement and instantly felt shame for being afraid. “Here’s my card, Mrs. Vines. Should you have any questions, give us a call, okay?” The policeman bent down and ran a hand over the back of Diana’s hair. She wanted to pull away but didn’t. The man tried to look into her eyes, but she hid herself in her hair. “Look, I know a good doctor who deals with this sort of thing all the time. I mean it, unfortunately. All. The. Time. Normally, after, you know, if it goes too far, we always have to take them to the hospital. But in this case, I think home might be best.” He sighed. “Anyway, please understand this girl will need to talk about this with someone. There’s good people out there who help people get through this sort of thing all the time.”
Diana’s mother nodded, said her thanks, and helped the girl to her feet.
They left fresh tracks in new snow as they walked back to the shopping center, back towards the parking lot full of people and something resembling normalcy.
Diana turned around one last time. She saw the dead stag, his fine coat shredded by his own hunting dogs. Something pulsed in her clutched fist. She opened her hand and saw Actaeon’s heart bleed through her fingers.
Showing posts with label myth. Show all posts
Showing posts with label myth. Show all posts
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Friday, November 5, 2010
Nike's Resignation
Nike soared into the sky. Her large wings caught updrafts and lifted her higher. She felt the winds grow cooler and more refreshing as she ascended towards the condensing presence above her. The nothingness solidified into darkness. The darkness became solid and welcoming. She flew upwards and flapped her wings a little harder, hungry for home.
Beneath her, the clouds were small, insignificant. Prismatic shifts of reflected sunlight filtered between the nothingness below. She saw right through those clouds and their superficial beauty. Below the meaningless wisps of condensation lay a sea of deep blue and aquamarine dotted by sandy brown and green islands. There was a flash and one of the islands erupted into a mushroom of smoke and fire.
She turned her attention upward. She decided enough was enough. No longer did she want to be among the miserably congested anthills, unthinking bee hives, or diseased roach nests of humanity. War had evolved with these insects and their own self-defeating stupidity.
The skin of her face stretched taught as she ascended towards Olympus. Her robes flowed down in her wake until they were pulled free from her body. She smiled as her skin fell away leaving only her incorporeal essence: her true self, a star entering the massiveness of the night sky where she might find her place in the unending space of the universal. The skin and cloth she shed floated downwards, became a cloud, and then rained down on a blood-soaked battlefield to wash a moment of pain away. Then the corporeal shell rotted with a sea of smoking gore and viscera. Naked now, she glowed a little brighter as she ascended into the Pantheon.
She looked down. She watched as the skies of Earth burst with unending fire. The world burned and she shook her head. Drops of her essence fell down beneath her like tears. She turned her attention upwards and worked her way through the cluttered debris of dead satellites.
There were no victories left to herald, no new songs to be sung of the glories of war, at least, none she could recognize.
"I quit damn you!" Nike yelled down towards the embers of fading civilizations.
"It's okay, dear."
Nike turned around to face the song of another star. Athena moved towards her, their lights connected in a loving embrace, and Nike trembled, overtaken by the sensed impact of an infinity of gentle kisses.
Athena drew Nike closer and the two stars merged into one. "Shh. It's okay. You did your best. You hung on as long as you could. I gave up on them centuries ago. I saw the signs. It wasn't the first time, after all."
The stars shined with their timeless and unchanging beauty.
Back on the wreckage of earth, a man and a woman stood upright. They emerged from the soot and gore and waste of another lost time, of another lost city, of another lost world. They looked up to the stars hoping to find warmth there, but only felt a chill. The man and woman frowned, turned their backs on the stars, and focused on one other.
They began to love. They began to rebuild.
The world continued to spin. Hope continued to burn along with their passions.
Athena and Nike danced overhead. They circled in joy to the tune of new songs that sounded like the old songs but were still their own songs, somehow.
Beneath her, the clouds were small, insignificant. Prismatic shifts of reflected sunlight filtered between the nothingness below. She saw right through those clouds and their superficial beauty. Below the meaningless wisps of condensation lay a sea of deep blue and aquamarine dotted by sandy brown and green islands. There was a flash and one of the islands erupted into a mushroom of smoke and fire.
She turned her attention upward. She decided enough was enough. No longer did she want to be among the miserably congested anthills, unthinking bee hives, or diseased roach nests of humanity. War had evolved with these insects and their own self-defeating stupidity.
The skin of her face stretched taught as she ascended towards Olympus. Her robes flowed down in her wake until they were pulled free from her body. She smiled as her skin fell away leaving only her incorporeal essence: her true self, a star entering the massiveness of the night sky where she might find her place in the unending space of the universal. The skin and cloth she shed floated downwards, became a cloud, and then rained down on a blood-soaked battlefield to wash a moment of pain away. Then the corporeal shell rotted with a sea of smoking gore and viscera. Naked now, she glowed a little brighter as she ascended into the Pantheon.
She looked down. She watched as the skies of Earth burst with unending fire. The world burned and she shook her head. Drops of her essence fell down beneath her like tears. She turned her attention upwards and worked her way through the cluttered debris of dead satellites.
There were no victories left to herald, no new songs to be sung of the glories of war, at least, none she could recognize.
"I quit damn you!" Nike yelled down towards the embers of fading civilizations.
"It's okay, dear."
Nike turned around to face the song of another star. Athena moved towards her, their lights connected in a loving embrace, and Nike trembled, overtaken by the sensed impact of an infinity of gentle kisses.
Athena drew Nike closer and the two stars merged into one. "Shh. It's okay. You did your best. You hung on as long as you could. I gave up on them centuries ago. I saw the signs. It wasn't the first time, after all."
The stars shined with their timeless and unchanging beauty.
Back on the wreckage of earth, a man and a woman stood upright. They emerged from the soot and gore and waste of another lost time, of another lost city, of another lost world. They looked up to the stars hoping to find warmth there, but only felt a chill. The man and woman frowned, turned their backs on the stars, and focused on one other.
They began to love. They began to rebuild.
The world continued to spin. Hope continued to burn along with their passions.
Athena and Nike danced overhead. They circled in joy to the tune of new songs that sounded like the old songs but were still their own songs, somehow.
Friday, July 23, 2010
Maya
Despite the significance of her name in the Hindu religion, dreams never really sat well with Maya. In fact, the more she attempted to ingest, the more frequently she choked. Her throat burned and blistered every time she tried to swallow another new idea.
Yet this never stopped her father from trying to force another dream down her throat. He would make her stay at the table until she cleaned her plate. He took no excuses. Never mind she just really wanted to watch her favorite cartoon show on television, read her story book (she liked that one about Disney Princesses), or perhaps even work on her homework – anything was preferable to trying to swallow down yet another dry and lifeless dream, and all dreams are lifeless, or at least it seemed that way.
But on this night, her father promised something different. He brought her a dish of greenery. Out of this sea of green, a lotus flower bloomed. A man walked towards her. He stepped lightly across the soft petals.
This man was tan and well-muscled. When he looked at her, a shy dimpled smile cut across his face. A glimpse of white teeth and pink gums. She was hungry. She pinched him. She lifted him. She opened her mouth.
He screamed, and she salivated. She began to chew. She chomped and chomped until his screaming ceased. A line of reddish spittle and blood dribbled from the corner of her mouth.
“Delicious!” she said with a smile. Then she tried to swallow. “Water!” she cried with her cheeks puffed out. The lump of dream lodged itself against her hard palate.
Her father smiled and poured her a glass of water. It was clean and clear. She took the glass eagerly and poured the contents into her mouth. She could not swallow.
She gagged and coughed. A tiny arm landed on the white table cloth and left dots of blood as it bounced. She coughed again, and a small leg landed in her mother’s dinner glass. It swirled in the pinkish hues of her plum wine. Her mother scowled at her.
Maya wanted to say she was sorry, but all she could manage was another cough. A tiny head struck the tabletop with a small thud and rolled away like a misshapen marble.
Maya’s face turned red. She broke out in hives. It became impossible to breath.
“I’ll get the Benadryl,” her mother said with a sigh. “Seriously, honey, why do you keep trying?”
Maya’s father shook his head and sat down heavily in the massive wooden chair at the head of his family’s table. “Because we are what we are.”
“But just because we are what we are doesn’t mean that she has to be.”
He nodded his head. “But we’ve been this way for so long.”
“Times change. People change.” Maya’s mother stole a glance in her daughter’s direction.
Maya grabbed her napkin and began spitting up the gory mess inside her mouth. She dared not look at either of her parents.
Maya’s mother looked back to the father. “Everything changes. Roles change.”
“But we are the unchanging.”
“Nothing is unchanging.”
“Then, who will destroy the dreams?”
Maya’s mother left the room and returned with a cup full of Benadryl. Maya hated the way the medicine tasted. It burned her already sore throat on the way down.
Once the hives receded, once her breathing was easier, Maya asked, “Can I be excused now?”
Her mother gave her a sad smile. “Sure, dear. Clean up your room before bed, okay?”
“Yes, mother. And father?”
He looked up at her. “Hmm?” A forkful of naked young women were impaled on the tines of his fork. They screamed.
Maya had to shout to be heard over their screams. “Father, I think I know the answer.”
“The answer to what, dear?” Her mother smiled at her from across the table.
“You know, his question. About who will destroy the dreams.” She paused and looked at the lavish dishes spread out across the table. “If you just give them time, dreams have a way of destroying themselves, don’t they?”
Her father shrugged, said “Maybe,” and stuck his fork back into the bloody rose on his plate. A chorus of tiny young women screamed. “Who knows?” he said over their terrified cries. He looked off into the distance and started to chew. The screams soon ceased.
Feeling ashamed, knowing she could never meet her father’s lofty expectations, Maya turned away.
Yet this never stopped her father from trying to force another dream down her throat. He would make her stay at the table until she cleaned her plate. He took no excuses. Never mind she just really wanted to watch her favorite cartoon show on television, read her story book (she liked that one about Disney Princesses), or perhaps even work on her homework – anything was preferable to trying to swallow down yet another dry and lifeless dream, and all dreams are lifeless, or at least it seemed that way.
But on this night, her father promised something different. He brought her a dish of greenery. Out of this sea of green, a lotus flower bloomed. A man walked towards her. He stepped lightly across the soft petals.
This man was tan and well-muscled. When he looked at her, a shy dimpled smile cut across his face. A glimpse of white teeth and pink gums. She was hungry. She pinched him. She lifted him. She opened her mouth.
He screamed, and she salivated. She began to chew. She chomped and chomped until his screaming ceased. A line of reddish spittle and blood dribbled from the corner of her mouth.
“Delicious!” she said with a smile. Then she tried to swallow. “Water!” she cried with her cheeks puffed out. The lump of dream lodged itself against her hard palate.
Her father smiled and poured her a glass of water. It was clean and clear. She took the glass eagerly and poured the contents into her mouth. She could not swallow.
She gagged and coughed. A tiny arm landed on the white table cloth and left dots of blood as it bounced. She coughed again, and a small leg landed in her mother’s dinner glass. It swirled in the pinkish hues of her plum wine. Her mother scowled at her.
Maya wanted to say she was sorry, but all she could manage was another cough. A tiny head struck the tabletop with a small thud and rolled away like a misshapen marble.
Maya’s face turned red. She broke out in hives. It became impossible to breath.
“I’ll get the Benadryl,” her mother said with a sigh. “Seriously, honey, why do you keep trying?”
Maya’s father shook his head and sat down heavily in the massive wooden chair at the head of his family’s table. “Because we are what we are.”
“But just because we are what we are doesn’t mean that she has to be.”
He nodded his head. “But we’ve been this way for so long.”
“Times change. People change.” Maya’s mother stole a glance in her daughter’s direction.
Maya grabbed her napkin and began spitting up the gory mess inside her mouth. She dared not look at either of her parents.
Maya’s mother looked back to the father. “Everything changes. Roles change.”
“But we are the unchanging.”
“Nothing is unchanging.”
“Then, who will destroy the dreams?”
Maya’s mother left the room and returned with a cup full of Benadryl. Maya hated the way the medicine tasted. It burned her already sore throat on the way down.
Once the hives receded, once her breathing was easier, Maya asked, “Can I be excused now?”
Her mother gave her a sad smile. “Sure, dear. Clean up your room before bed, okay?”
“Yes, mother. And father?”
He looked up at her. “Hmm?” A forkful of naked young women were impaled on the tines of his fork. They screamed.
Maya had to shout to be heard over their screams. “Father, I think I know the answer.”
“The answer to what, dear?” Her mother smiled at her from across the table.
“You know, his question. About who will destroy the dreams.” She paused and looked at the lavish dishes spread out across the table. “If you just give them time, dreams have a way of destroying themselves, don’t they?”
Her father shrugged, said “Maybe,” and stuck his fork back into the bloody rose on his plate. A chorus of tiny young women screamed. “Who knows?” he said over their terrified cries. He looked off into the distance and started to chew. The screams soon ceased.
Feeling ashamed, knowing she could never meet her father’s lofty expectations, Maya turned away.
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