mennybeads (mennybeads) wrote,

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There's a woman whose family was in a car accident. Her brother, his wife and their 2 children, to be exact. The family had forgotten to put their belts on. One of the children was 2 months old, and was also not wearing a safety belt. It went straight through the window, its body mutilated by the glass. The kid's in a wheelchair and has lost not only bodily, but mental functions too. One person died, the others were wounded.
The woman took all the problems upon her shoulders. She supported her brother and his family, what remained of it, and it took a heavy toll on her emotional well-being.
Today she heard that the child she's had in her belly for 20 weeks has an open back, a hydrocephalus and a talipes. Because she's an orthodox muslim, it's forbidden to abort the child (after 12 weeks). She will have to bear the child for at least four more months, knowing that it'll either die, or she will have to take care of a heavily handicapped child.


The Muse cd is good, if a bit too much like the last one. But I still like it.


When their brother or father (I am not sure which) came back from war, the girls stayed home while their mother went out to get the supplies for the special dinner. They had not seen their relative in 10 years; they were loathe to play nice all evening. They did not even know the person returning to them, the person mother was being all weepy about.
So, I decided, what the heck. I went to the bar in town (The only one, actually; Almost all of Greece consisted of little towns in those days) and sat down next to one of the men, ordering the house wine. That would be cheapest. My boss would not be pleased with me. Honestly. Society was changing, but did my superiors have to change with it?
I hadn’t indulged in anything for a while, so I amused myself a while by talking to the man. It had been long, indeed; he looked ragged, old, and still he was only 25. I guess war really does that to mortals. I, myself, looked stunning, and, even though I had worn my oldest garments, people were all over me, practically begging for my money. I brushed them off.
Then I slipped the man my wine, winked, and walked out.
He wouldn’t have gotten used to a life without war, anyway. And I did give him the choice as the foreign soldiers came barging in: I was sure he knew poison when he saw it.
Didn’t think Zeus would be angry with me for taking the girls, though. Hypocrite.

(Oh my, who could this be? Special feelings to the one who guesses!)

At the heart of Joe is a corrupt spine. After all, who went undercover taking on a name like ‘Joe’? That’s just plain cruel.
‘Er, Joe?’
He smiles upon me charmingly. ‘Yes, Noel?’
‘I’m sorry, but Mother has called you back to her house. She can’t use you here anymore.’
He says something to the girl in Spanish, possibly to annoy me, and stands up, wrapping a towel around his waist as he walks towards the door, gesturing at me to follow him.
‘Look, kid, I’m fine here. I know I’m not being very useful, but I really can’t be useful if nothing’s happening, right? You can convince her to let me stay, right?’ He winks. ‘I mean, I still get paid. I’m sure I’ll find a way to make you help me.’
He knows he needs more than his money to convince me. I’m the heir, I’ve got enough money.
‘What do you want?’
I smile. He’s not the only one who’s corrupt, and while he had more years to practice at it, I had the best teachers.


‘The two characters who are most in conflict are most definitely the father and son.’ ‘Though there is a lot of conflict, I feel the main conflict is between father and son.’ ‘Looking back on the play's central conflict it is obvious that the conflict is between father and son.’
It was so annoying. The same sentence over and over again. It makes me wonder what these people had been doing. These were not even from the same day. It became redundant, writing things like that. Yes, the conflict was between me and my father, but any blind monkey could’ve seen that. It wasn’t as if we weren’t always fighting.
Okay, so I may have crossed the line a bit when I murdered my father’s new wife in front of an entire ball room, but honestly, she was just asking for it. Prancing around, acting like I was inferior. She had not even given my father a child yet, how could she possibly have gained the right to act like that. She hadn’t. I was completely within my right, I know now. So maybe I was a bit bitter about my father marrying a new woman so soon after Mother had deceased—it had been just past the proper mourning period. Irritating. And she just… went and did her thing, as it was.
Well, of course I couldn’t stand by helplessly. So I did what I did.
And here I am. It’s not like I imagined being in prison as being any fun at all, but didn’t they know who my father was? They could at least be a bit more gentle. And they didn’t have to take my clothes.
‘Lights out!’
I don’t even have a light. I sigh and roll over on my other side, facing the wall.
Completely within my right.

(Well, we can't all be sane, right?)


‘Ares, Ares, Ares.. whatever have you done to yourself now, boy?’
I snarled at him. I was not a boy. I was his superior in so many ways. ‘Shut up, you. Mother didn’t even want you. I faintly recall her throwing you from a mountain top.’
‘Do not say things like that, you despicable vermin! Mother loves me more! All you gave her was sorrow and death, I have given her jewellery and happiness in little containers made of gold.’
I laughed at him, all the while trying to get off the chains he had put upon me.
‘Oh, Ares, do you not know? With the times, I have become better. These are practically unbreakable, unless you have Zeus’ thunderbolt.’
‘I’ll give you Zeus’ thunderbolt, you little shit!’ I lashed out. I knew it was stupid to show him my weakness, but he just pissed me off so much. And he was ugly, too.
‘Ares, I will set you free, but only under one condition.’
‘What is that, then? Because I sure as hell cannot make you any prettier. One is born pretty, didn’t you know?’
‘Do you still want me to set you free or should I leave you here, for the rats? It is much less an honourable death than dying in one of your horrible wars, you know.’
I sighed in resignation and hung my head. That should please him. ‘What, Hefaistos.’ It wasn’t really a question. He wasn’t worthy of my question marks, I didn’t feel.
‘Bring me a new Aphrodite.’

Now, you should probably know what happened to the last one. As much as I loved her, she was still a woman, and thus more or less a cow.
It was inevitable, but eventually, Persephone of the underworld died. The lack of light during her short periods away from it finally did what could not have been avoided. So she died, and for a short while, Hades was furious, and blamed everything on himself.
That last phase lasted exceptionally short, and I’m sure I’m glad I never paid him any visits before, and wasn’t obligated to show him my respects.
So, with Persephone dead, Hades sought to find a new queen, and found her in Aphrodite. Beautiful, stupid, and not really aware of was going on around her. I’m sure he liked the thought of being able to do things to corpses no one should do while she would happily ask him what he wanted for dinner that night.
In any case, he seduced her. It pissed Zeus off mightily, and I am sorry he is my father and I had to bear his scorn. Good thing I’m not his favourite offspring, though.
So, Aphrodite was seduced and happily chained to the underworld –for what would happen if Zeus refused him? He had an army of the dead on his hands, and Zeus had only the living—and Hefaistos had lost his ‘wife’. I am sure he was devastated, but I just laughed at him as much as I always had, so I did not really notice the change (miserable little shit that he is). But I had also lost my love, but I could not do anything against Hades, which saddened me until I found someone new to sprout my eternal devotion on.
Hefaistos, though, did not react to this well. He moaned, and cried, and hit his hammers on things. All his jewellery came out wretched. Mother was rather displeased and asked on Hebe to tend to her brother.
She came, one day, to him, and asked him, ‘What is wrong with you, brother? Surely you are not saddened by Aphrodite leaving? For she has always cheated on you, and with your own family nonetheless.’
‘I care not for her betrayal! I love her, and she is the inspiration of all my works. Indeed, the necklace you are wearing now is a result of her mere presence.’
Hebe had gingerly touched her necklace then, a look of pain coming over her face.
‘We cannot have you not doing your job properly. For you are the only one who delights us so by making these things. It is what you do best,’ she added for good measure, not wanting to have him even more upset at her actually mentioning he was useless.
‘My dear sister, I am aware. But you can do nothing, unless you became our mighty grandfather and devoured Hades again like he devoured own children before; only then would I be happy again.’
Hebe cried out in shock at his mention of the child-eater and put her carafe down. ‘Hefaistos, I am afraid I cannot help you with anything if you are going to talk like this. I will go now, and leave with you the sweet drink of the gods, so that you might feel a bit better.’
‘It is useless, sister, but thank you for your attempts.’
So, with Hebe turned down, who was left?
Indeed. Mother and father. I say Hefaistos, the oaf, was lucky Mother talked father out o coming, because I’m sure he would’ve flung him to an island on the other side of the world, where the barbarians couldn’t have tended to his wounds and he would’ve died.
Too bad.
Mother tried to talk to him. He flung himself down on his bed, sniffing up her scent, as he liked to say, and cried out words that made no sense, possibly not even to himself.
‘Hefaistos, you have got to stop this nonsense. You are a son of gods, a god yourself, you cannot afford to act like this. Whatever will the others think I they hear of you behaving like a child?’
‘I was never a child mother; something you are somewhat blamed for.’
‘Oh, don’t get all sentimental on me, boy. You know my reasons.’
‘Mother, please leave me be. No one can help me.’
And that’s when mother had a marvellous idea.
‘How about Ares?’

(Aw. Classic!fiction.)


‘Basil, have the butler bring me another drink, will you?’
The painter looked up from where he was seated in the armchair. ‘Dorian, don’t you think you’ve had enough already?’ He motioned the glasses scattered on the table.
‘I think it’s quite rude of your butler to let me know how much I’ve had to drink by leaving the glasses there, actually. But no, it’s not enough. I have never felt so terrible in my life. And the only one true enough to let me feel better, is alcohol.’
Basil sighed. ‘Have you been hanging round Henry lately, Dorian?’ But he called for the butler regardless.
‘Of course I have, the dreadful man. I keep coming back to him. Isn’t he horrible?’
The older man winced and sat up a little. ‘Yes. Yes I do think so. I wish I’d never introduced you to him.’ He didn’t dare say more, but he ached to do so. He was gathering courage as the butler knocked brusquely and told him to enter. ‘Dorian?’
‘Oh, I shall just have another one of these. Would it be terribly forward of me to ask to bring the bottle along?’
Yes. ‘No, that’s quite alright. I’ve enough of it.’ No you don’t.
Basil stood up and sat himself on the couch next to Dorian, who smiled charmingly at him. Basil’s heart ached. He wished he could paint every moment he spent with the younger man, only he knew that even that would not feel the same as these precious little moments, nor would it make him feel better. It would have been but a weak image of something he would have inside him forever.
‘Dorian, I—‘
‘How’s the painting coming, then? Any rich clients lately?’
Basil stuttered for a moment, trying to repress the blush. ‘They’re not clients, my dear boy. And no. I haven’t had a lot of work after your painting. I’ve been painting, of course. I could not bear not to. But no one is paying me for it.’
‘Oh, Basil… I’m quite sorry. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?’
Yes! ‘No, I will be fine, I suspect. People just have to learn that the new fashion can be painted too. I just hope they shall before the next season sets in.’
Dorian laughed, and Basil felt himself melt. He smiled weakly.
‘Oh, Basil, I had forgotten how much fun you could be. It has been too long, don’t you think?’
‘Yes, I do think so. We used to be together so often. But now that the painting’s done…’
‘Well, I will come and visit you more often, now. I promise.

(This is...I don't know if I like it. But I'm trying hard to make it look good. Also, isn't it great that you can write this and it's still canon ? Oh, Mr. Wilde *swoon*)</ljcut>
Tags: writing
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