The razor-sharp edge of the queen’s gilded dagger grazed Athena’s throat. She could feel the cool blade against her neck and the fierce quiver of the queen’s hand threatening to tragically end the conversation.

Athena kept her head held high. “I came here for a conversation, perhaps a negotiation, not aggression.”

The queen smiled and held her hand steady. “That’s such a laugh to hear when you walked into my domain with your sword in hand. You are no longer among the ever-reverent Athenians who would light their homes on fire if you so much as mentioned feeling a chill.”

“I agreed to slay the sirens leading your men to their underwater graves for a paltry sun capable of covering nothing more than my passage. I held up my end of the deal years ago and have since completed all of your requests. Your men are safe and above land, your crops remain bountiful, and your children have flourished in the light of the security I’ve dutifully provided. In return, your financier has gone into hiding and your soldiers made the mistake of aiming their spears at me at your northern entry. And then… well, that’s the reason why my throat has the honor of meeting your blade today, is it not?”

The queen tightened her grip on the dagger and then threw it down upon realizing that no army could stop the wrath that Athena’s death would bring.

Athena rose and slid the dagger into her boot in one swift movement. “I’ve given you and your court more than enough time to settle your debt. At least the Athenians know when to open their arms and close their fists.”

She started trailing her fingers toward the hilt of her sword. Stories of her epic battles had traveled much further than the mainland. She knew that’s all she had to do.

The queen’s lip trembled. “I’ll double the payment — triple it — a wagon filled with gold drachmas for you to take with you. And then I will double your rate as a token of our gratitude for your continued protection.”

Athena contemplated accepting the queen’s offer, but what good would a few extra pieces of gold do in her pile? She didn’t do this for the money. She was born into opulence. She did this to serve and honor her homeland, to help keep these people to atone for the sins of her fellow Twelve Olympians. This time she slayed sirens, next time they would ask her to rescue them from a Titan. She was tired of being taken for granted simply because she chose not to employ her father’s cruel tactics to keep civilizations in line. There is no peace in a war waged against yourself.

“I have a better idea. You keep your money, I keep my sword in its belt. The sirens are gone, but they’re far from all that the bumbling fisherman you call sailors and soldiers will encounter in coming days, months, years… I won’t be around to find out. You are not to summon me or send any messengers. It is time for your people to sink or swim and time for me to seek solace in the magic of no responsibilities.”

The queen collapsed to her knees and pressed her hands together in a desperate plea. “Please, we will die. Anything but that. I would sooner have you slit my throat instead to protect my people.”

Athena felt that familiar twinge of sympathy and guilt that brought her to this point: defending her life and her honor against yet another gold-trimmed mortal too small-minded to comprehend the value of her supernatural sacrifices. They only sent for her when they needed something, and they laughed when she stood her ground because they knew her heart was too pure to inflict Zeus’ punishments upon them. They stomped and stomped over her light until all that remained inside her was a crushing darkness.

She had never felt so tired. They finally took all she had left. She silently pushed past the begging queen and walked outside the tent. She felt as if every ounce of energy in her had been stolen from her, yet she had never felt so weightless. Athena had never realized how heavy the burden of the world’s troubles had been on her shoulders. She shed each piece of armor and weaponry that she had carefully put on that morning, carelessly casting them aside as she approached the field of flowers outside the state boundary.

Athena stepped into the meadow and collapsed with her arms spread wide like the smile forming on her face. She had forgotten what the simple pleasure of surrounding yourself with peace and beauty felt like after a lifetime of fighting others’ battles. It was time to rest and protect herself, if she could remember what that meant again. She didn’t care about the incoming fury of the Olympians for stepping out of her role. All she cared about was the bed of irises embracing her and the new warmth of the sunshine on her tired, bare limbs.

I don't know how you did it but you found me. And I haven't been the same since.

I am nothing but the traces of a long-forgotten deity; the whispers of a religion lost to bloodshed and time. I know not where I am from or who I once took care of. But somehow, you found me. You gave me name and shape, turned me to more than a whisper in the trees.

Because of you, I am.

You are the reason I am whole.

So how could I not love you? And how could it not hurt me even more that this will not last, young one?

I had forgotten, for too long, how wonderful it was to be seen. And then you gazed into the depths of me with your dark eyes and made me a home for your prayers, your praises, your dearest sorrows. I have kept them. Labelled, memorised down to the very colour of the shoes you wore, placed carefully with the utmost reverence beside my heart.

But this will never last.

You will die, my saviour.

And I will fade away along with you.

But while we live, you and I, promise me this. That you will never leave me. That you will never stop gazing out into the aether for me with those lost, pretty eyes. I may be your deity but beneath, all I am is your humbled servant. You have my utmost devotion - I am tied to you; mind body and soul. There is no me without your existence.

And somewhere along the line, young one, it pains me to think that perhaps I may worship you just as much as you do me.

It is not supposed to be this way. Is it? I do not know the way of the gods of this age or any. I have always been on my own. I have been non-existent for as long as I can remember. You breathed life to me. You returned me here. I live for you. I am for your sake, alone.

Forgive me if this is not the way your gods treat their charges. You are the first person I've cared for in a long time and the devotion I have for you... It makes me feel like I am your child, your mother and father, your lover, sibling and friend.

Yet, I believe you are deserving of better than a guardian with no sense of self. I suppose this is why you may have chosen me. I cannot say for certain. But you did. Me of all the faiths in the world. You put your trust in me. You give me everything in you, hoping for the barest of kindness in return.

You are mine, then.

And I am yours, my little, mortal divinity.

For as long as you will have me. For as long as you may last.

The man sleeping

upon the bus stop bench

blocking your view

of this month’s

burger ad,

paid for by the fast-food joint

around the corner,

is hungry,

and his name is Bert Huggins,

if you cared to know.

The love of a mortal, so fragile and frail,

A flickering flame, a fleeting tale.

It burns so bright, but oh so brief,

A love that's born, but brings so much grief.

Their hearts so open, they love so free,

A love that's pure, a sight to see.

But time is cruel, and life so short,

Their love, a memory, a fading thought.

Yet envy seeps, through immortal veins,

For humans love, without any chains.

Their hearts ablaze, with a passion so true,

A love that lasts, forever anew.

To feel so deeply, and love so strong,

A mortal's love, it doesn't belong.

But oh, how we long, to love like they do,

A love that's pure, and forever true.

So mock their love, we may indeed,

But envy lingers, like a desperate need.

For the love of a mortal, may be brief,

But it burns so bright, a sight to behold, a relief.

Exile. Not in the form you might think. I’m not on a deserted island or locked away in a tower, but I have been exiled. Exiled by my friends and my enemies. The worst kind of exile. The kind where everyone has made a mutual agreement to hate you even though you did nothing! Or, at least, you wish you had done nothing. You see it wasn’t really my fault. I was just doing what I had to do. At my old school, nobody liked me. I was a nobody. I decided that at my new school, that wasn’t going to happen. I wanted to be somebody. I dressed nicely, talked nicely, and introduced myself to as many people as I could find, but it made no difference. I was still alone. No one talked to me. No one invited me over to their house. No one asked me to sit with them at their lunch table. I thought all hope was lost, that was until the most popular girl in the school wanted to talk to me. She had noticed that I wanted to be popular, so she made me an offer. She would help me make a ton of friends and become popular, and in return, I would tell her everything I found out from those friends. I would get details about their personal lives, including any gossip or information that could be used as a sort of blackmail, and report it back to her. It felt a little wrong, but I had wanted that for so long. I decided to take her up on her offer. So I went along with it for a little while, but once I became real friends with all of them, it felt more and more wrong to basically sell their information. Of course eventually my conscience got the worst of me, and I had to stop. In response to my quitting. The popular girl decided to make everyone know what I had been doing. As a result of all that coming to light, my friends hated me and my enemies hated me. so here we are. I’m alone once again. Just like I was before. Looks like that got me nowhere. It’s going to be hard, but I know what the right thing to do is. I have to apologize to all my friend. I know they will forgive me, because they‘re good friends. I just have to trust them. Well, here goes nothing.

I pick

Exile !

for I must

enter in-

to form &

Experience...

the where to where

& whether Twas

long or short...?

...what character

strength or flaw

broke the Key...

who betrayed

our Hero !

& what the

mortal saved

...from dark

to Grace &

with what

Expression,

at or below

the surface

was that

body or

its work

traced?

06.23.2023

Judging by the Title challenge @Celeben

No one notices her.

No one cares about her.

No one cares about her pain.

Nobody talks to her.

In their mind think

She is stupid.

She is poop.

She is bad.

She is weird.

Words are like a million daggers at her back.

They want her to disappear.

She wishes they are gone.

Leave her privacy alone.

They are nothing but the void itself.

It does not matter how she passed away.

She did not feel accepted by unethical people or others.

She did not feel fit in like a puzzle piece.

She was not an ordinary woman.

She never achieves her goals due to these circumstances.

In a place of filthiness, she is unclean and unwanted.

A fallen angel with a band-aid on her left eye,

Wearing ripped clothes,

And chains around her limps and neck are trapped.

She thinks herself worthless.

No chances are given.

No other ways to live another life.

Just pure sadness and chaos around her worsen

In an isolated state of mind.

Her eyes closed to slumber on the stone floor.

Getting away from the tunnel, the sounds, and the others.

She wants to be gone

Without the burden from the spirits and such.

Note: The fallen angel is the heart and wings. Has a band-aid in her left eye and has ripped clothes across her heart.

There is a monstrous desire in me

I feel it bubble up from deep within

Sickly and needy and base

Its pale yellow ichor clouds my eyes

And I know if you were to see this

Infection bleed from me

You would be disgusted

I have long been denied the love I was promised

I was assured what was given would be returned in equal measure

But instead I have poured out all I can

Worked fingers to the bone

Bones that were never mine

Bones that were stolen from graves of those who might’ve felt what I crave

Maybe that is why I have such need

For I carry within me the yearning of those

Who’s bodies created mine

Have I not done what was asked?

His sin against god is what made me

He made me and yet he denies me?

I did not ask to be birthed in this foul manner!

I awoke upon his table and saw the blasphemous,

rapturous joy in his eyes dissolve into

Horror

Horror

Horror

Am I that horrifying?

He made me to be beautiful

I am called monster

Monster

Monster over and over again

Every time the story is retold

And every time I am naught but a

Beast for his attempt to defeat

But what of you?

Haven’t you longed for love and compassion?

And upon being denied this base need sworn revenge upon your creator?

Every rendition I am made

Not born

Made

Of grave-robbed parts and ink and pen and plans of greatness

In some I may only grunt and scream and moan

Like an animal

And in others I speak more soulfully than the

Wretched scientist

Who took it upon himself to drag me bloody and raw into this world

I want to scream

I want to wail

I have been denied so long

Denied love

Denied community

Denied the titular role

They call me his name, you know

As if I had no identity outside of him?

Do I?

All I am known for is my creator

He created me and then robbed me of any life outside of his orbit

Now you see? Why these hands must bring him to slaughter?

How is it that he could easily accept me

Easily apologize and ask forgiveness

And yet he doesn’t?

I kill him not so that I can have peace after

But so that I may find peace in the moment

Of violence against my creator

You think that given the chance

You too wouldn’t wring life from the throat of your creator?

What happens after is meaningless

The pages have stopped and there is nothing left but the back cover

Maybe you will forgive me now

For my hideous frame,

For my yellowed eyes and my tightly bound skin,

For my violent hands

For now as long as I exist

The dark bubbling hate and pain will continue to writhe within my guts

After all, I was never given a chance

I will always be known as

Frankenstein’s Monster