CHAPTER ELEVEN
ONCE IN A WHILE
(There comes a time)
December 25, 2024 - Just another day in my book
Rhe’s memory drove her crazy at times. It was spotty at best and maddening at its worst. She could remember things of her world that seemed important to her with no specific idea as to why. She could bake a mean pie but she had no clue if she was a baker. She knew she wanted the exercise equipment Forge helped her fashion although she could not remember ever exercising. She had a sense of what the world she came from was like with no recollection of her own experience in that world. She had feelings she could not account for and a sense of loss that hung over her like a dark cloud that she could not put her finger on. She was sure about the Gold Medal being indicative of what people wanted although she herself did not have a direct connection to striving for it personally. She was athletic but was she an athlete? She did not think so. Was she just trying to be the best version of herself? What exactly was that?
While she toiled and tooled away at a leather strapping for her new dagger. Forge had left it to her to embellish to her liking and she had decided to keep it simple, allowing the blade itself to shine. While working away, her mind wandered and weaved through the interminable maze of her mind. There were always more questions than answers. She eventually came to the same conclusion every time. It did not matter who she was. It was about who she could be now. She put down her tools and rubbed her temples. Her back hurt. It shouldn’t, but it did. She stretched her arms as far above her head as she could and suddenly thought she needed a yoga mat. Of course, she could not remember ever doing yoga, only that it helped. She looked around the shop at the endless rows of supplies and wondered what she was looking for. Something soft yet resilient. Was it foam? Was it rubber? Nothing caught her eye. She could make due with a decent carpet. There were plenty of those around. People did love to weave here. There were several in their living quarters. One in particular came to mind.
In her room which she still kept for herself, it was underneath her vanity. Another thing she insisted on having without a frame of reference. With a gilded mirror and matching chair with a brocade seat. Looking at it now, it seemed so out of place where it once made her feel at home. She moved the chair to the corner of the room and lifting first the back legs of the vanity, she pulled the carpet forward and lifted the front legs to extract it from beneath. Rolling it up, she carried it out to the balcony and unfurled it. On the rug was a design woven in that she really looked at for the first time. It depicted a garden seen with an arched gated entryway covered in ivy and what appeared to be clouds surrounding it. She knelt and looked closer at the tapestry. There were littles specks of light dancing around within the garden. There were flowers, birds and butterflies. There was sunshine streaming in from somewhere because there was no actual sky. Without knowing how she knew, she knew this was the Grotto. The home of newborn souls. Not regenerated or reincarnated ones. Not fragments or remains of the day. Those tiny refractions of life were new to this world. She sat cross-legged in front of the carpet and ran her hand along the surface of it. What would it be like, she wondered? She did not remember being a mother or having a mother or wanting to be a mother. She wasn’t sure she had it in her, but those dancing little specks sparked an interest in her.
She turned around and laid down on the mat. She stared up at the sky and brought her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them while she attempted to breath in deeply without the presence of lungs. If she concentrated, she could pull it in from around her and let it out slowly, deliberately and evenly. Then she stretched completely out and did the same. She rolled onto her front and got to her knees. She went into downward facing dog and then rose to upward facing dog, and lifting first one leg, and then the other, she continued stretching until her back stopped hurting. She relaxed, laying in the sun, looking up at the sky with The Grotto tucked safely beneath her. She felt too alone for her own good. She had lost her mind, but the one replacing it was taking on a life of its own. Rhe was ascending further into Godhood. She was contemplating the taste of Ambrosia. She sat up quickly and shook it off. She was not ready. There was something stopping her. Something more. Like something else or someone else was waiting in the wings. But what. Sometimes it felt like it was on the tip of her tongue but she could not quite put her finger on it. Something obscure. But that was not the word she was searching for. She tried again but was suddenly interrupted. Blaze had decided to convene another Counsel. This was getting tedious. She shrugged everything off and went inside, thinking all the while…
“A rose by any other name.” She knew who she was, just not exactly who she was.
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Nyx had a feeling there was trouble brewing. She had convened Counsel with the intent of revealing the infestation of the bridge but had been intercepted by Blaze who wondered if “it could wait” in favor of The Prestige. Marnie, always in support of whatever Blaze wanted, had encouraged her to let it go for now. Marnie felt the problem had been solved and that it was most likely due to the bridge being old and rotting. Nyx was offended. She cared for the bridge. The rot was not due to the age of the bridge. Another Counsel was due to start and she still wanted to raise the subject, but decided otherwise for the time being. She surveyed her discus and ran her finger around the platinum edge of the medal. First chance she had, she was going back to the bridge, weapon in hand, and not alone. Nyx had a friend in Dione and Dione had a friend she needed. A friend in need indeed.
A best friend is a panacea for hard times. They can smooth things over with a single smile or a well placed nod of understanding. Nyx had such a friend in Dione. They had bonded early in their existence because their differences brought them together and their similarities sealed the deal. For her part, Nyx lacked the nurturing nature of a mother figure. Aphrodite has a tendency to be aloof with women. She believes they all feel threatened by her and even jealous of her. In her hay day that was mostly true but as following generations had their own issues to contend with, Aphrodite became more of a legend. Legacies developed their own dichotomies and dynamics. Meanwhile, Dione thrived under the tutelage of Persephone and Nyx found herself drawn to them and spent more time hanging out in the Underworld with Dione and his influences. They would whisper in secret about anything and everything while they built hidden forts and played hide and seek. Persephone happily took Nyx in tow and many a great time was spent by them all, including Hades, being a family of sorts unto themselves.
But Nyx’s favorite aspect of life in the Underworld was playing with Cerberus. The only thing better than having a dog, was having one with three heads. You could pat three heads and get licked by all three and give each one a treat and they would each smile back at you. Granted, he was not the best looking dog with his whipping serpent tail and lack of fur on his body, but his love and loyalty was beyond measure. And yes, he was supposed to be the guard dog, but in her defense, there was not much for him to guard those days. She and Dione took him everywhere with them and Hades eventually allowed the great dane’s offspring to take over and granted Cerb retirement status. He was immortal but aged. There was not as much spring in his step or enthusiasm for barking but his bite still tore through anything that got in his way or threatened anyone he loved. Nyx, while busy with her own life more and more, still took the time to visit him with treats in her pockets and adoration in her eyes. She still hung out with Dione even though he was so betrothed she could not resist teasing Dione about it. And when she needed a friend, like she did now, Dione could still be counted on.
So in the space/time between the previous Counsel and the upcoming one, Nyx decided to take matters into her own hands. SOZ had ditched Dione to run off and do something important but more than likely he was pitching a minor fit over not getting his own way, and Marianas slipped away to avoid talking about the bridge with her because Blaze was otherwise concerned, so Nyx hooked Dione by the arm and whispered in his ear like old times about an old friend and a plan for a new life for the beloved pet. Once out of earshot of the others, Dione listened intently, nodded at the right moment and smiled at the thought. Yes. Cerb was the right dog for the job and would be thrilled to be back in service. And Dione definitely wanted to take a look at the bridge. A call to arms was on the table now and he needed more information to favor a decision to rally.
Together, they went home and with one whistle, Cerb came running. After treating him the way he deserved for being the good dog that he was, Nyx, Dione and the guard dog of all guard dogs set out for the bridge. Upon closer inspection by all three of them including the three heads of Cerb, they determined there was no rot to be found on the bridge. The rot was inflicted upon it from a growing concern. The bridge did need to be guarded. Someone or something was trying to destroy the rainbow nature of it and everything that it represented. A distinct dislike crept over them and their own dispositions as gay and non-binary. Cerb growled a deep throated, menacing snarl and licked all three of his lips and bared all his teeth in full view. Each head looked in a different direction, surveying the scene. He sensed the threat. There was a menace in their midst. The fight for the bridge was not over. It had just begun. Cerb was pacing, awaiting the command he knew was coming. Dione pointed to the far end of the bridge where the crossing began and the most loving and loyal of all beasts bounded towards it to greet the incoming, as he had been trained to do. Those with rightful passage had nothing to fear from him. The same could not be said for those who trespassed. They could be ripped to shreds.
They would be a little sad to leave him there but it was the happiest he looked in a long while. Watching for the inbound gait of a newly arriving spirit animal and ensuring safe passage had given him a new lease on life. He turned to them as if to say “Leave me to this!” All three faces smiled, tongues lollying and eyes bright.
“Good boy lovely.” Nyx whispered in the wind in his direction. She and Dione hooked arms and turned to leave. She wondered if she had ever felt better than she did right now. Again, he nodded and she nodded back. She briefly turned her head to take one more look.
“Take that!” She mouthed to no one in particular but to anyone who dared cross her.
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An impatient, ungodly steed stomped its hoof in anger. Flies buzzed around its seeping eyes and drool steamed in grotesque fashion from its ratty mouth. Ugly was his name and pestilence was his game. The master would not be pleased. This was supposed to be their time to shine. What was the hold up? Poised on the edge of a deep, dark sorrow set to be unleashed, the other three horses, each of a different name, glared off into the distance. Some inroads had been made but the depth of despair they longed to let loose on the world was still held at bay. Behind them, an encampment on the shore stunk up the place. The waiting was becoming maddening.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Lucifer slammed his fist on the wooden stocks he held his favorite prisoner in. He leaned down, and looked him dead in the face. He spit. The more maddening the better. He was not pleased, but that is when he did his best work. Admittedly, the bridge had not been his best work and pestilence would pay for that. He should know better than to entrust such delicate subterfuge to sloppy seconds. His henchmen were a constant source of disappointment to him. They did not seem to carry the gravitas they had been gifted with in the beginning. The world had become too desensitized to their gifts. That is why he had to up the ante and brew a big old pot of outright madness. This was a tedious and time consuming undertaking and while every little insidious demagogue helped stoke the flames and fire that heated it, there was still enough reason. He went behind the prisoner he cherished and fucked him up the ass to his content. After he came like gangbusters to the tears and distress of his beloved but failed dictator of an ancient land, he went back to look at his quivering face and licked the trail of tears down to his mouth and kissed him hard and with the kind of passion even a man’s man could not resist. Once he was certain there would be no resistance, Lucifer stuck his cum stained dick in the poor guy’s mouth and began to move it back and forth in obvious ecstasy. The sucking became more desperate than ever. Lucifer began to groan, willing himself to make it last as long as he could. Through his clenched eyes he imagined the pot swirling and steeping in utter insanity. Pestilence, Famine, War and Death they were immune to but the nonsense they would believe if shoveled down their throats by people they wanted to be was potent stuff. He exploded in an orgasm of triumphant proportions. He rubbed his hand over the greasy hair of his beloved.
“Ohhh, good boy.”
A pitiful cry escaped the chapped and bleeding lips of a once rich and powerful man who had it made.
“Idiots.” He lisped through his toothless gums because his lover preferred the feel of them that way against his sensitive dick. “They are all idiots, my lord and savior.”
It sounded ridiculous coming from this guy. He never got to cum. His dick had been cut off and his prostate removed and both hung around his neck as a reminder of his glory days as a wanton, wealthy and feared man of God who pretended he hadn’t sold his soul to the devil to line his pockets. Lucifer had intercepted him upon his death and carried him off, further and further away from the light, restoring his body and claiming it for himself. The devil was every bit as merciless as he had led others to believe to scare them into submission - and, of course, donation.
“Idiots indeed.”
Lucifer realized the horsemen and their beasts of burden had outlived their usefulness to him. At that point, they just became figments of the imagination while melding with and melting into the madness they had been poised on the brink of, awaiting their day to shine. A wave they did not see coming just rose up and swallowed them all whole. A few bubbles escaped the surface in memory of them. And while Lucifer smiled at their demise, a slight shiver went down his crooked spine. He was alone. He forgot they were his only friends.
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Santos woke to a beam of light in his eyes creeping through the blinds on the window of his new bedroom. He let out a small grunt as he turned on to his side. Today was therapy day again. Not that he entirely minded. Doctor Norton was a curious kind of guy but in a good way. Santos put his arm behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. He was not used to things going well for him anymore and it made him nervous. He still had trouble relaxing. But every now and then it was okay to savor the moment and with Viv’s steady breathing in sleep beside him, this was one of those moments. Vivianne was Dante’s younger sister by a couple of years and a spirited woman with a mind of her own. Santos had made sure his new friend and roommate would be okay with him hooking up with his sis, being a brother himself. Dante had just fist bumped him and told him to go for it if it was cool with her. She was a grown ass woman who would do what she wanted anyways, Santos kept it chill though. He wasn’t ready for serious. Viv understood, given everything he had been through. She was pretty busy with her own thing anyways. Viv worked as a teacher’s aid with children on the spectrum and was very good at it. To her, everything was a learning curve.
Santos decided to slip quietly out of bed and hit the shower while she slept so he could have it all to himself. She did love to shower together and she would probably pout a little about it, but he needed the solitude in there because it meant so much more to him than she knew. He could breath in there. He felt like he was starting to wake up from a bad dream. They had been working on his case for the podcast and with Doc Norton on his side, Santos was beginning to think this might be okay. He had been painted in such a bad light by the crown to the point that even he believed it after a while. He wondered again if there was anything he would have done differently.
“Only everything.” He answered himself, alone in the shower.
Some days he wished he had never met Desi. Others, he wondered how he could go on without her. Even Viv didn’t quite take the sting out of that. After toweling dry and putting his mass of wet curls up in one of Viv’s hair clips, he shaved and wiped his face. The teardrop tattoo on the bottom corner of his left eye still bothered him. That had not been a choice so much as a given. He didn’t like tell tale markings. He certainly didn’t like being branded. He turned around, away from the mirror and leaned against the bathroom countertop. He would have to look into getting it removed, even though he knew it would hurt.
He went back into the bedroom to wake Viv up for work. No matter how late he worked, he was still wide awake early. She had come by the restaurant after work, as did Dante, and they had hung out, eaten and even laughed a couple of times. They had a couple of drinks but Santos stuck to water. They took a rideshare home because he was still barred from driving and he would not let either of them get behind the wheel. Not on his watch. He gently roused her and pointed at the time on her phone.
“Ugh.” She said, burying her head back in the pillow.
Santos leaned in and kissed her neck.
“Up and at em girly. Those kids are counting on you to make sense of their world for them.” He really admired what she did.
Viv reached around his waist and pulled him in for a hug and so she could smell him.
“Asshole, You should have woken me sooner.” He was right about her being a little miffed with him for not wanting her there in the shower with him where, in her opinion, she did some of her best work.
“Next time for sure.” He said with surety.
As she headed out the door to her waiting lift, with a quick good-bye to her brother and a nice, lingering kiss on his lips, Santos knew he was not ready for this. Dante was loading up his messenger bag and getting geared up to get going himself. Santos did not work till later. He would take a nap before his appointment. Having a life again was exhausting. But he wouldn’t want it any other way. Dante was going to take the bus to his car. He was saving every cent he could for the supplies they needed to launch. Santos was tracking down the audio/video equipment and setting things up as they came in. They were building themselves a nice little studio and almost ready to start recording. Santos was not quite sure he was up to reliving the entire experience, but this could be a whole new start for him, and a whole new way to reach people. This could really strike a chord with the right audience and lead to other avenues of discourse and income. They still had to come up with the right name for the podcast and had floated a few ideas but had not yet landed on a winner.
Once he had the place to himself, he cleaned up after everyone willingly, made himself a smoothie, and looked through the bookmarked sites on his laptop. Some were for regular sale sights for tech stuff. Others were more to his liking. He could find everything he needed on the other side of the web, and usually for a better price. But he had to carefully vet every offer. Things had definitely gone down hill since he went away. The crap that people were into and posting was weird AF sometimes. If you thought normally that things were going crazy, one look behind the curtain and you would be certain of it. But pulling back the curtain was a big part of the shit show. Santos wanted to expose every pedo and nazi on the dark web. This whole lunatic fringe was stomach churning but he stayed in his own lane instead. He knew only too well how important staying in your lane was.
A couple of good leads later, he decided to take a quick snooze before his meeting with Doc, and work after that. He had a dream he was not expecting, although how can you? In it, he was fishing. Something he never did. He was on the bank of a river, throwing out his line like he had seen on TV. He hooked something and reeled it in after some give and take. He had snagged a fishing net that his lure had gotten caught on and in it were a bunch of small fish gasping for air and not good for eating. But they were completely tangled in the net. There was no getting out of it for them. He removed his silver lure that looked like a microphone or something, and tossed the net back into the river to let the little fish drown. He went to put the lure in his tackle box. But suddenly it turned into a butterfly and flew away, disappearing from sight. He kicked his tackle box in frustration, but then, the bank of the river started to give way and he was slipping towards the water that had now turned dark and was bigger and stronger. He turned and ran in the direction the butterfly had flown, leaving everything else behind.
He woke up with a start, his head groggy and feeling discombobulated. He quickly grabbed his phone to turn off the alarm he had set so he would not miss his appointment. He had to stay vigilant. Every now and then you can savor a moment but for the most part, you always need to keep your head above water and your game on point. There is seriously dark shit in play. While the world sleeps in any given part of it at any given time, trouble is always brewing just below the surface.
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Blaze stood on the rocky banks of the River Styx giving her a once over. He just wanted to take a quick look at her. He was not sure what he was looking for, or why, but he needed to see for himself. She was a beast of a river at her best and a force to be reckoned with at her worst. She spewed and she flowed. Somewhere off to his left, he heard the sound of paddles in the water. He turned to head back. He did not want to push his luck or deal with the ferryman.
“Coward.” He heard her whisper to him.
He kept walking. “You are welcome to keep your opinion and anything else you have to yourself Styx.” He muttered as he kept deliberately marching away from her.
“For now.” He finished his thought as he emerged into the light of Olympus.
“Crazy bitch.” He called her when he was safely out of her reach.
Blaze felt a deep, dark plan starting to take shape in the back of his head. He pulled his shot put from his shield. He had come prepared, just in case. The gold in the medal was glowing and appeared to be melting. The platinum ring was keeping it in place. She had sensed it and wanted it for herself. The heavy metal of the cannonball started to heat up. He gripped it tighter, resisting the urge to throw it down. He willed it get a hold of itself. Wherever that medal led, she would follow. He strained against it and brought it to bear in his favor. It was at that moment he knew she could be tamed. More importantly, she could be useful. Against the madness.
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Who is the best beast in your opinion
