Discord: The Judgment of Paris

The Mythology Files: Aphrodite

I am Aphrodite.

I see you staring. Go ahead. Stare. You’ll never see anything this hot again as long as you live. That’s a fact. Carve it into stone, baby.

Oh wait! Been done.

Venus de Milo ring any bells?

Speaking of ringing bells… Alexandros of Antioch, the sculptor… well, I’m not really a girl who kisses and tells… What am I saying? I totally posed for that statue. He was never very good at carving hands.

You wonder why I can do that. Don’t you? Be unfaithful to the husband I was given to? Hephaestus. The god of fire and metalcraft. One of the strongest of the gods, if you ask me. He is also the kindest. I don’t deserve him.

And he doesn’t deserve me.

I have a reputation to maintain. Love and beauty.

You think I’m vain.

It’s okay. I know what the other goddesses say about me. That I’m vain and I have a one track mind. The gods, on the other hand, say… other things.

The truth is I’m lost.

I don’t know where I came from or how I got here.

The others — they all have a history, a lineage. They can trace their ancestry back to Gaea, the Great Mother.

What’s my story?

I floated up on the shores of Olympus on the foam of the sea. That’s it.

No mother or father. Nothing.

So why did they accept me as one of them?

Because I’m beautiful.

It’s all I’ve got. It’s all they see. I lose that one thing, and I will shrink back into oblivion, return to wherever it was that I came from.

Hephaestus doesn’t deserve the kind of baggage I bring. He is a gentle, sweet, giving soul. All I know how to do is take. I know it sounds heartless, but if I stop now, I will lose everything.

So to concede the apple to any other goddess? Yes, even to the queen… I can’t risk it.

WonHundred Word Wednesday: Curiosity

PROMPT: You find a box in the attic that isn’t yours.

It was hand-carved, overlaid in hammered gold. I blew dust from the top and set it on the floor before me. What could be inside? So many possibilities. The runes encircling an engraved eagle spelled out a warning. I smiled. Curses were a myth. Weren’t they?

Whatever was in that box… I had to know.

I slid the ivory pin from the latch and raised the lid. The hinges creaked their objection.

Then the rushing wind, like a thousand bats taking flight with a screech. I gasped and slammed it closed, but t’was too late.

“Pandora! What have you done?”

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The Mythology Files: Hera

I am Hera.

Don’t pretend like you don’t already know who I am.

Everyone knows who I am.

I am the queen.

Everyone else answers to Zeus. But Zeus… he answers to me.

I know what people say about me. That I’m a jealous, vindictive wife. That I am a vengeful witch.

People should mind their own business.

It’s never a good idea to poke your nose in where it doesn’t belong. Especially when it comes to how I deal with my husband’s… how should I put it? Shortcomings.

And he has a plethora.

As the goddess of marriage and fidelity, his philandering is more than just a broken trust and broken vows. It is a blasphemous offense to my divine nature. I deal with it accordingly.

Case in point.

Io. A mortal woman. I can honestly say I don’t know what he sees in any of them, but Io? Mousy brown hair, dull brown eyes, short and far too tan. And cankles. She had cankles. A hideous creature. She reminded me of a bumbling bovine — and not the sacred kind.

Not that I believe it was Io who started the whole affair. That was definitely Zeus. I know how persistent he can be. When he asked me to marry him I refused. I refused him over and over and over again. He would not give up. But I knew even then he would be unfaithful. He had a wondering eye and already was collecting a harem of immortal wives. Metis, the Titaness, for starters. She is no longer a rival, however. After an unfortunate incident during a shape-shifting game, Metis now resides in Zeus’s head. Forever relegated to advising the king of the gods from within.

Like a tiny little conscience.

Well, I use the term loosely, because either Metis turns the other way when Zeus is slumming it with mortal women, or his thought process bypasses his head altogether. My drachma is on the latter.

Like I said, he’s persistent. After I refused his proposal multiple times, he got creative.

He turned himself into a bird.

You heard me correctly.

The great god Zeus shifted into the form of a bird and hopped around pitifully like he had a broken wing. My intention was to help the bird.

What?

Don’t judge. I felt sorry for the poor little thing.

I scooped it up into my arms and suddenly I wasn’t holding a bird anymore. It was Zeus. And I knew that he would never give up, so I agreed to be his wife. And his queen.

So yes, I know it probably wasn’t Io doing the pursuing. Zeus has always been the pursuer. It’s not new. But I can’t just go around punishing the king of the gods. It undermines both our authority. That leaves the pursuee. Always. And sometimes, I also punish their illegitimate offspring. And to answer your question… I sleep fine. Someone has to suffer the consequences. It is simply the way things are.

Zeus turned Io into a snow white cow in order to hide her from me. Fitting, considering the cankles. But I am very good at playing the game. I insisted he give me the lovely little cow as a gift. He thought he was getting away with something, and he didn’t want to give up his little secret, so he indulged me. I set my personal bodyguard to watch her 24-7. How can anyone do that, you ask?

Argus was no ordinary bodyguard.

He had one hundred eyes spread over his entire body. They were never all closed at once. Never. He was the perfect watchman.

Until Hermes—

I hate to even think about it. The little rat.

You may as well know the story.

Zeus sent Hermes to rescue Io. The coward wouldn’t do it himself. He was too afraid of me finding out about his torrid love affair with cankle-girl. Since Argus was on duty, she wouldn’t be able to escape, and no one would be able to help her. Except Hermes.

He literally bored Argus to death.

With the longest, most pointless, most stupid story ever. It went on and on and on. Argus fell asleep. Every last eye closed. Then Hermes used his wand to make it permanent.

I will never get over that. Argus was my favorite. Ever.

That was just one of a multitude of incidents. Zeus owes me big time.

And I. Never. Forget.

This beauty contest? Should NOT even have happened. Zeus should have just given me the apple and let life go on.

I’m the queen of the Greek gods. No woman — immortal or otherwise — can hold a candle to my power and beauty. And that is a fact. Zeus would never have chosen me as queen otherwise. So why is he hesitating now?

Cowardice. It’s disgusting.

Read more of the story on Wattpad.

The Mythology Files: Athena

I am Athena.

Goddess of wisdom, that’s my official title — though there are a plethora of other subjects that fall under the umbrella of my authority.

War strategy.

Arts and crafts.

Justice.

The list goes on.

I know you’re wondering why I’m here. It’s a fair question. One I have asked myself many times. Ordinarily, I don’t go in for this whole thing. Beauty, drama… the thought alone repulses me. So I understand your confusion. You would think my wisdom should have precluded me from getting involved.

I had a momentary lapse in judgment. That is all. And now I can’t seem to undo it.

I’m sure you’ll find this hard to believe, but I occasionally have fits of temper. I’m not proud of it. In fact, pride is actually my pet peeve, hence the rage.

You’ve heard of spiders? That is an example of my handiwork. True, they are amazing creatures, capable of intricate and beautiful weaving (one of my fortes), but the fact is spiders are a product of my temper… Of course, in that particular case, it was righteous indignation. Most of my fits of temper fall into that category.

Medusa? Yeah, another victim of my indignation. Well, I say victim, but really she brought it on herself. She and Arachne both. Two peas in a hubris-infected pod.

My mother is a Titaness, Metis, the goddess of prudence. She had a momentary lapse in judgment at one point which led to my birth taking place inside my father’s head.

Yes.

You heard me correctly.

In. Side. Zeus’s. Head.

Of course, it hurt him more than it hurt me. I can’t imagine having my head split open by Hephaestus’s axe. But when all was said and done, I emerged from my father’s skull the fully grown goddess you see now.

Zeus has momentary lapses in judgment all the time. None of us are immune. It’s just that with wisdom being my strong suit, you would think I would be a somewhat less susceptible. Discernment is my first nature after all.

Case in point, I’m a virgin.

Before you start jumping to conclusions, understand. That’s by choice.

No matter what anyone tells you, casual sex is an entanglement that offers only trouble and heartache. You can trust me on this one. But in case you need proof, just look at the problems Aphrodite has. And Zeus. It honestly gives me a headache just thinking about it.

It’s not that I’m against love, mind you. I just happen to believe that I deserve a god (or man) who doesn’t make me share him with any other goddess or woman he takes a fancy to.

Until that one comes along, abstinence is the wise choice.

So why do I care who wins the golden apple?

It’s obviously not for the sex appeal. But there is a logical explanation.

I don’t like pride.

You can look at my track record for evidence of that. And when I find it in mortals, I punish them. Severely.

In immortals, pride comes in epic proportions. Unfortunately, I can’t just turn them into insects. If I could, Aphrodite would have been morphed into one of those nasty lovebugs long, long ago. She’s worse than Narcissus. And that is saying something.

Pride makes people, mortal and immortal alike, stupid. And as the goddess of wisdom, stupidity is something I simply cannot abide.

Aphrodite is getting far too big for her britches, to coin a modern phrase. And Hera, well, I know she means well, but this whole I’m the queen prima donna attitude has reached critical mass.

This is why I must win the golden apple. I’m the only one who can absorb the compliment and not have it go straight to my head. I’m doing this for the good of everyone.

The Mythology Files: Eris

I am Eris.

The Spirit of Strife.

Not a goddess, as some of you may have thought. Just a spirit. And as the title implies, my whole goal in life — my entire reason for existing — is to stir up dissension. I would say it makes me happy — a room full of fussing people — but that would be a lie. After all, I am the Spirit of Strife. By definition, I don’t cause happiness for anyone. Including myself.

My main companions are Pain and Panic, also spirits in their own right. You can probably tell just by hearing the names that they aren’t the best company. You would think that our commonalities would make us like peas and carrots. But how can it? I am strife.

The gods and goddesses can’t stand to have my trio around most of the time, though on occasion they’ll tolerate us if it suits their purposes. Except for Ares. He has a soft spot for all three of us. Mostly because his purposes involve starting war where there used to be peace.

Funny how you never hear about the Spirit of Peace. I know I’ve never met her. Whoever she is. I think she likes to keep to herself. I know I would, if I were her.

Regardless if she actually exists, you know she ain’t gonna be beating down the door to meet me. We’d be arch-rivals. And Peace doesn’t want any part of this, let me tell you.

I would win. Plain and simple.

I fight dirty.

And let’s face it. The irony here is if Peace fights with me, I’ve already won.

I know I sound bitter. And probably irritable. You may as well know now, it’s like perma-PMS up in here. A real joy to be me.

You gotta understand how it is.

It’s a nasty job. But somebody has to do it.

But sometimes?

Sometimes…

I wish it could just be somebody else.

~from DISCORD, the Mythology Files (in progress)~

Spotlight: Jennifer Rae Gravely

Welcome to the talented Jennifer Rae Gravely, author of Knight of the Dead!

Born in Ohio, but raised in Pickens, SC, Jennifer Gravely graduated from Converse College with a triple major in history, politics, and English before earning her Masters in Education in the mid-1990s. Returning to her high school alma mater to teach and coach volleyball, her teams won four state championships in five years. She lives with her husband, daughter, nine beagles, and two cats. Knight of the Dead is her first published novel.

When and why did you begin writing? 

I’ve always loved words. As a child, I earned the nicknames motor-mouth and jabber jaws for my love of talking and telling stories. Later, as an avid reader, I wrote mainly to analyze. A triple major in history, politics, and English at Converse College, I viewed life in terms of paper topics! Still, I played with writing short stories and poetry. Then life took over—I became a wife, mother, teacher, and coach—and even though I continued to read, I rarely wrote anything creatively.

About ten years ago, some teacher friends and I were talking about books and decided to try to write our own. One friend found her groove with the challenge, and has had numerous novels published. I spent years on two connected novels, both still unpublished. However, at the encouragement of my friend, I tried once again to write a novel. I choose the name Persephone for my heroine because I teach mythology, and used the tale as a springboard.    

Hades and Persephone is one of my favorite myths too. Since I'm an English teacher too, I use that in my class as well!

What do you consider the most challenging about writing a novel, or about writing in general? 

I’m burdened with the pressure of trying to be perfect. As a high school teacher and volleyball coach, I write many recommendations for students and players, worrying over each sentence and idea. I hyperventilate when I think too much about others reading my words!

I thought I was the only one who did that!

What was the hardest part about writing this book? 

I struggled with the editing process, with adding sensory details and emotion, as well as wading through grammar difficulties. However, I think that was simply because Knight of the Dead was my first published novel. Now that I know the rules and expectations, I’m hopeful that the next story will be easier to clean up.

Is there a message in your novel that you want readers to grasp? 

I wrote Knight of the Dead mainly for entertainment; however, thinking about the characters’ troubles, I’d have to say that not jumping to conclusions about people and situations, being honest in relationships, and maintaining loyalty to those we love are themes prevalent in the story. Oh, and don’t forget, that love conquers all.

What are you working on now? 

I’m currently writing a romance involving volleyball coaches, but it’s early in the story. The heroine Randi Sly returns to her hometown to teach and coach. Blake Steel works at a rival high school. Both have aspirations of winning the state championship. Their relationship will prove to be quite competitive!  

That sounds awesome! And you have all your volleyball experience to draw from!

What is your favorite quote? 

I love quotes, and use them often with my players. I believe this particular sports’ quote is from Mia Hamm, “The vision of a champion is someone who is bent over, drenched in sweat, at the point of exhaustion, when no one is watching.” It’s the hard work put in to achieve the goal that makes us a champion in whatever area that defines our life. 

So glad to have you here today, Jennifer!

Thanks for having me at your blog! Here’s a blurb about Knight of the Dead, followed by an excerpt:

Persephone Richards is in a pinch. With a wrecked car and bills stacking up, the income from her job at the daycare isn’t enough. Mark Lawrence needs a sitter for his little girl and Persephone is perfect for the job. What begins as an employment opportunity leads to romance. However, a secret Persephone hides threatens the happy ever after and puts the three of them in danger.

From Chapter Four: Desperate to avoid eviction, Persephone heads to a club for a job.

“What can I do for you?” A brown--‐‑haired man held out his hand for Persephone to shake. He wore black pants that were tight around his thighs, only because he had huge muscles. The white button--‐‑down shirt he sported stretched across his massive chest. His neck was thick. Persephone concluded that he must’ve played football. “I’m Lee, manager of the club.”

“Well…” She swallowed after giving her name. “Truth is I need money tonight. I’d like to dance.”

His eyes scanned her body. “Do you have any experience?”

She wrinkled her brows. “I didn’t think that experience would be necessary in this line of work.”

“Actually experience helps. We can’t afford a wardrobe malfunction. The laws in this state are clear.”

“Please, I really need the money.”

He hesitated. “Let me talk with the owner and see what he says. Why don’t you take a seat at the table in the corner?”

Persephone plodded across the room only to stumble when the heel of her black leather wedges hit the tiled surface in front of the bar. She reached out and grabbed a table, upsetting a pitcher of beer. The golden liquid flowed to the lap of the gentleman nearest her.

“I’m so sorry.” Embarrassed, she grabbed some napkins and started to dab at his knee in an attempt to dry his pants.

“Try a little higher, honey.” He laughed and gripped her wrist.

Persephone twisted from his grasp. His face reddened as his friends guffawed. He stood and snatched her around the waist. “Listen here, darling,” he rasped in her ear. His breath reeked of

stale cigarettes and alcohol. “You owe me for spilling the beer.”

“Take your hands off the girl,” interjected Lee. Two other men stood behind him.

“No problem.” The man caved, pushing Persephone back. “Relax, man.”

“Don’t touch any of our girls. Ever,” Lee warned. “Or you’ll get a free pass to the parking lot if you’re lucky and a trip to the slammer if you’re not. Understand?”

“What about our pitcher of beer?”

Lee signaled to the nearest waitress to bring the table a replacement. He motioned to Persephone to follow him. The security men returned to their place by the door.