Tell me O’ reader, would you be interested in a tale of some sorts?
A quite grotesque tale of five powerful deities dabbling in the pitiful lives of mortal men, crafting mayhem and chaos, and twisting the fate of nature. They sat upon their golden thrones of melted flesh and skulls at their feets, before them, sacrifices are offered up on their altars. The gentle strums of the lyre resonated through the air creating an atmosphere of tranquility.
“What ever shall we do, my god?” Hera laid her hand upon his, her thumb tenderly stroking the surface. “For my entire being is stuck in sluggish languor, deprived of gratification. What ever shall we do, my god?" She repeated, her iridescent fuschia eyes flashing, her eyes a kaleidoscope of colors.
Through the open window, the sun shone dutifully and brilliantly against the golden throne, illuminating and bathing the room in golden delicacy. Zeus sat in his throne, pondering on his wife’s statement. What ever shall they do indeed? For thousands of thousands of years, living in different eras, fighting primordial battles, leading countless wars (Zeus recalled his fondest memory, the great Trojan war. The son of Peleus, the mightiest warrior of rage and blazing glory: Achilles). Now the gods are restless. Once there was everything, now there was nothing but idle hands.
“What we require is amusement,” said Apollo, the sun passionately kissing his brown flesh through his chiton, the linen fabric stretched as his pectorals prods through.
“Such as?” Artemis, his twin sister wondered. Her oatmeal tresses wrapped securely into a bun, and her finger traced the round curve of her bow-shaped lips as she thinks. Her own bow and arrow laid in her lap like a newborn in the laps of his doting mother.
“Oh! How about a game? The last time we’ve engaged in these activities were in 776 BC.” His eyes widened and his mouth parted open in exaggerated shock. “My oh my, what a long time it’s been.”
From the darkest corner of the room, where the shadows crawled and menace lingered, someone scoffed and the strumming of the lyre ceased.
“What? Aren’t you a little bit curious about the matter, Hades?” Hera sneered.
“Frankly dear sister,” he spit out . “I believe that this childish means are a waste of time and I’ll take no part.” In his hands gripped a chalice of blood, dangerously the same color as his crimson eyes gleaming in the dark.
“Why don’t we make it interesting then?” Zeus mused, though these words were uttered softly, they carry a great weight, creating a powerful boom almost like a thunderstorm. All eyes turn to him like a magnetic pull.
“Interesting?” Hera echoed.
Ares stepped forward, making his presence known. Clad in armor, eyes of the darkest pits of Tartarus, where the wicked souls roam, he declared. “Let immortality triumph across the land and all the nations will declare it.” A horrid grin stretches across his face. ”Men will seek it. They will fill with longing for it. But they won’t find it. Why?”
The goddess of love and desire herself, Aphrodite clapped frantically. Upon doing so, her fair handmaiden near her throne struggles to brush her hair. The color resembles that of the blood of the beautiful nymphs as it pooled at her feet. “For immortality is for those who deserve eternal life,” she breathed.
He turned to wink at his lover, her idyllic curves apparent through her delicate peplos. “And men are vile, greedy creatures that deserve nothing but eternal damnation.”
Zeus filled with intrigue, his thirst for blood-lust rekindling. It’s been a very long time since he’s had a share of savagery and brutality. “I’ve just had the perfect game in mind.”
The gods muttered underneath their breaths, curiosity and fascination mingle in their midst.
Aphrodite squealed, “We care no little for mortal agony!”
My dare mortals
The games have just begun.