TWENTY FOUR

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DEMETER’S GARDENS, OLYMPUS

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DEMETER’S GARDENS, OLYMPUS.

DEMETER

THE FAMINE WAS A DISASTER WAITING TO OCCUR, A WRECK IN SHADES OF GREY MISERY.

My brother was a fool. He brought this on himself.

My bare feet trampled the newborn blades of grass creeping out of their hiding places. If only I could pluck that monster, that nuisance out of his hell beneath the ground? The cloak of silk dragged across the carefully tended earth, leaving below a trail of blazing destruction in its wake. Anger in all its glory flooded into my body like a well aged wine, leaving it vulnerable to reckless abandon.

Dismembered roses lay destroyed in the flaming, wrecked path I treaded, their stems burnt away, petals strewn to the winds.

Who knew what that abomination did to my rose, my blood, my precious little flower in that kingdom of his? 

Spider shivers inched down my spine.

Had he starved her? Locked her up in a gilded cage, unable to sing, unable to call for help? Had he had his way with her, pleasuring in the pure sadistic enjoyment of having her at his mercy, using her body in any way he saw fit to fulfil his base desires? Did the King of Gods not even give one damn about his flower? Apollo had been right in his warnings.

Zeus is a liar. You think he cares? You really think he would care? Demeter, if you want things to be right - you have to do it yourself!

Fucking animals, this lot of men.

Crimson and blood tinged flames curled themselves around the dying trees, wreathing them in ribbons of angry fire. The summer had not been a kind one. The absence of my constant nourishment to mankind was the only thing it took to set off a long chain of unmitigated wildfire.

Don’t tell me I didn’t try, brother. You forced my hand.

Far above me in the white capped mountains, a peal of golden bells rang in the abode of Zeus. I curled my lips in a sneer, lips inching up in a smile. 

It would not be long before he found out.

If my tongue and voice of reason were not enough to convince Zeus to part his brother’s hand from that of my daughter, this drought certainly was. I could almost picture him ordering me to loosen my hand, to even let a small amount of mercy trickle through in this punishment. 

Too late, Zeus. You took my lifeline from me. I will do the same to your people until you give her back.

Because this insult - this insult to my capacity as a mother raising her daughter - this insult was one I would never forget. My wrath and the King of Olympus were long past civilised recourse. 

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