Friday, April 1, 2016


Feb. 11, 2016

The apple seemed to hang in the air for a beat maybe two, before dropping on the table. Each of the fair goddesses looked at its flesh, burnished and shining softly in the warm light of Olympus and felt desire. The stem had a single leaf that curled, also wrought of the metal - or grown. Such things are difficult to distinguish at a distance. But the words could be read by all, "To the fairest."

Each letter cast off the light from Hestia’s hearth and could be seen in the eyes of wisdom, love and fertility. Gray, blue and green all turned to gold that day. All at the feast fell silent and watched.

Hera, queen of all, wife and mother was cold and beautiful when calm. But she was not calm, she was like the sea, pulling back a tidal wave.

Athena, gray and armored, but fair face revealed. When she laughs a wicked beauty can be seen. But she was not laughing.

Aphrodite, flaxen hair and ruby lips, desired by all. Now she took on the fierce look of a tiger extending claws for a kill, which only increased her beauty but filled us all with fear.

Three hands, alabaster all, reached for the apple. Each knew how it would feel in her hand, at once cool and warm. Perfectly heavy in the palm. The words so true all would know them right, once the fruit was in hand. Tongues caressed lips at the mere thought. And eyes, already brimming with desire for the heavy fruit, filled with anger at the other two who dared reach for the prize.

Food dropped back to plates. The sharp sound of in-drawn breaths as the celebration turned into a contest with but a tossed apple.

Eris, the uninvited, still small, watched through her dark hair that was covering her darker eyes, and smiled.

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