The Goddess of Winter (A Short Story)

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People think that gods don’t listen. Truth be told, mostly we don’t.

People think that gods are self-centered and vain. Mostly, we are. But so are people. They only see themselves, the mightiest of creatures, in the centre of it all.

How could it be that the Sun does not revolve around the Earth? Surely, there cannot be any other creatures in the universe, at least not beings as intelligent us? Yes, it’s bad to kill an animal, but not as bad as killing a person, of course…

Did gods create humans, or did humans create gods? I don’t know the answer. I exist, in a way, though no one worships me anymore. Vesna exists, too, the goddess of the spring. Of is it Persephone who makes the flowers bloom, when she ascends from her underworld throne?

The only thing that I can tell you, without any doubt, is that Nature exists. Call her any name you want, but she is there, and she rules us all. Yes, even me. It was her who gave me my task. A wonderful task! I was to make frost.

You grin now, and you scoff. Frost? What is so glorious about frost? It’s a task no one will thank you for.

Well, you only think that becuse you’re a mortal. Mortals never see the big picture. That’s why you destroyed it all, unable to see you’re also destroying yourselves. Global warming. It doesn’t sound so bad, doesn’t it? How can warmth be bad?

It’s hard for me to make frost these days. The gods are not all-powerful after all. I want to sing in the white snow, underneath the gentle snow flakes. Let me spread my arms and dance! Think of the winter creatures, creatures like me, creatures you destroy! Think of the creatures completely unlike me, those who will perish next!

The time has come for the gods to beg for the mercy of mortals.

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The Three Roads (A Short Story)

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Now he knows he’s lost. Why does it bother him? Isn’t this what he wanted? To be lost to them, forever?

He scoffs and leans on a tree, one of the hundreds that surround him. The forest is deep wherever he looks. The only thing he can do now is keep walking ahead. Try not to return.

He’s tired and hungry, so he decides to rest. He has a piece of bread with him, the only food he managed to take. He should’ve planned this better. He might find some fruit in the forest, but what if he picks something poisonous? Maybe he could hunt, but he doesn’t really know how. He has a small knife, nothing more. He bites the stale bread and sighs. Everything is better than staying there, isn’t it? Somehow he’s not that certain anymore.

Then he hears something. He hopes it’s just a rabbit, but he still draws his knife. He listens. The leaves crack. It must be something bigger than a rabbit. His eyes widen as he looks around. It’s coming closer, but he’s not sure from which direction. Then he hears a sweet laughter. A woman. But where?

“Don’t worry, I won’t harm you,” a soft voice says.

Suddenly, he sees her. A beautiful young woman, dressed in brown leather, bow and arrows hanging over her shoulder.

“Who are you?” he manages to ask, half conscious and still afraid.

“Just call me Artemis,” she shrugs.

“Artemis? Like the Greek Goddess?” he smiles. He feels more confident now.

“I look like her, don’t I?” she smiles. He nods. She really is a strange looking woman.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

“I just live here,” she shrugs.

“Oh…” A forest woman. Strange.

“And what are you doing here?” she asks.

“I’m just… Running away I guess.” Her smile is nice, but there’s something strange about it, almost dangerous. Her eyes seem wild. Maybe it’s all in his head.

“I can help you escape,” she says. “There’s a lot of forest to go through. You might need help.”

He looked down, at his piece of stale bread, lying on the ground.

“Well, I guess I do need help.”

“Follow me, then. Are you hungry?”

She bites at the meat, but he doesn’t feel hungry anymore. He remembers the eyes of the poor animal, the panic, the pain, the blood. So much blood.

“Is something wrong?” she asks.

Her voice is sweet, her face kind, despite her piercing eyes. Her beautiful brown hair falls over her shoulders. It almost makes him forget what she did. Still, he doesn’t touch the meat. You don’t really think about it when it served on the plate. You don’t think about the murder, the living creature before it became food.

The moon is already up when they reach a river. He drinks the cold water, his thirst finally satisfied. She’s sitting on the river bank, her feet in the water. She looks at the moon and seems peaceful. There is something different about her. She looks the same, but the expression of her face is changed. There’s no wilderness in her eyes. He sits next to her, and he feels peaceful, too. She looks at him, and she almost seems sad.

“Do you really live here?” he asks.

“For centuries,” she says.

He touches the fingers of her small hand. She draws them away.

“I just… Thank you,” he says.

“Why are you here?” she asks him.

“I just ran away. My life… I felt like I was losing control over it. I just felt like… Running. Starting fresh. I don’t want to spend my entire life in that small, boring village.”

“You seem to be on a crossroads,” she sighs. “So, that’s why we’ve met…”

She is sad. Why? The night suddenly grows darker. He looks at the sky and he doesn’t see the moon anymore. Dark clouds appeared over it.

“I hope it won’t rain,” he says and turns to her. He finds her changed again.

She stands up, her eyes wilder than ever. No, not wild. Dark. Powerful.

“What are you running away from?” her voice is different, too. It’s unnaturally clear, but not loud. He tries to get up but fails. “Are you running from responsibility? From others? From yourself?”

He wants to ask her what’s going on, but he cannot find his voice. It’s not her anymore. This is a different person. She looks almost more beautiful than before, but much more dangerous. He hears crows screeching, and he is certain he didn’t hear them before. On one side, the water rises. Little drops floating in air. On the other, leaves fly up, and form around her like dark aura.

“Who are you?” he manages to cry out.

“Three roads,” she says. “One goes back to where you started. You ask for forgiveness, and become what you were. No risk, nothing changes. The second road leads to failure. The third leads to everything you’ve wanted.”

He tries to stay calm. To think.

“How do I know which is which?”

“You’ll have to guess it.”

In that moment he wanted to go back. Forget this strange, terrifying day, be who he was before. But he’s not that man anymore. He’s made his choice, and making a choice always means change. A change within. The old is dead, and the new is born.

“Then I’ll guess,” he says. One foot after the other, he went ahead, wherever it may lead.


“In the later poets, Artemis is identified with Hecate. She is ‘the goddess with three forms,’ Selene in the sky, Artemis on earth, Hecate in the lower world and in the world above when it is wrapped in darkness.”

–  Edith Hamilton, Mythology: Timeless Tales of Gods and Heroes

Infinite Loop (A Short Story from the Underword)

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I died.

It just happened. And in such a stupid way. If I weren’t dead, I’d be angry with myself. To fall off a cliff… Who does that?

On the positive side, once you’re dead nothing matters anymore. Some feelings are left, some memories from the past, some emotions that were strong while you were alive. I’m a spirit now, a shadow of myself, but I am still me. It’s hard to explain it to the living, so I’ll leave it at that.

It all happened just like they said it would. I appeared next to a wide river, a river so long I could not see its end. I was greeted by a boatman. Well, actually, he just gave me a small nod. He didn’t welcome me or call out my name. I realized I had a golden coin in my hand, and I handed it to him. He then helped me climb into the boat.

“It’s strange,” I said.

“What’s strange?” I was surprised that the boatman actually replied.

“It’s all happening just the way I though it would.”

“Well, I don’t see why it’s strange then.”

“I didn’t expect it to happen the way I expected it to happen,” I tried to explain. I guess I’m quite bad at explaining things.

The boatman said nothing. He must’ve thought I was a complete fool. Before I had the time to feel embarrassed, the ride was over. It was impossible we’d already reached the other side, but this was the Underworld. You can expect everything. I had passed to the other side, and I wasn’t bothered by such questions anymore. My only desire was to be given a place to live, my own little piece of eternity.

“Oh, not again!” the boatman suddenly gave a loud sigh. In that moment, he almost looked like your average mortal.

I looked ahead and saw a young woman approaching the river bank.

“I will come for you, my love!” she shouted into the void.

“I know, my love!” even I, being dead and all, was surprised to hear a voice respond to her from the mist.

“Stupid young people,” the boatman grumbled.

“What is going on?” I asked.

“These two stupid lovebirds are really making a mess here. I don’t know why the Mistress allows it. I think she finds it funny. Well, it stopped being funny after the first forty-two times!” he screamed into the mist.

“What are they doing?” I wanted to know.

“Well, he promised her that, if she died before him, he would go to the Underworld and beg the Master and the Mistress to let her live. He would take her place. And she promised she would do the same. Stupid young people. They swore an oath to each other. They never realized it lead to an infinite loop.”

“Infinite loop?”

“You aren’t too bright yourself, are you? Well, he was the first to die. Killed in a war. And she did what she’d promised. She pleaded the gods to let him live and take her instead. They had better things to do than deal with their nonsense, so they accepted. They cared only for the number of souls, not who those souls belonged to. But, you see, now she was dead, and he was alive. So, to honour his oath, he had to come back and take her place. And then he was dead and she came here again… You understand?”

“That’s quite stupid,” I had to admit.

“Well, at least we see each other in passing,” the girl hissed at me and took her place in the boat.

The boatman shrugged in resignation and went to do his job.

I felt like laughing, but I didn’t. Everything was paler now, even my amusement. Still, I knew, I would like my new home.


A silly story. Hope you like it anyway. XD

Update and a Microtale

Hi, dear bloggers! I just wanted to let you know that I will be absent from my blog for a week. I’m spending the next week in Vienna, and I will celebrate the New Year’s Eve there! I can’t wait! 🙂 

Before I go, I decided to post the cutest photo from my previous trip, to Ireland and Northern Ireland, and a microtale that I made up for it. Wish you all great holidays! :*

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Sea Happiness

He jumped. The sea spattered around him. He had just an hour, or even less, before the sun set and the boring half of his day began. Then the sea would suddenly start to feel cold, and his limbs too weak to swim as fast as he would want to. Even the fish won’t taste good.

A long time ago the curse was spoken. He was to spend the day as a seal, and during the night he would take the human shape. An annoying curse, indeed. What was one supposed to do as a weak, two legged creature who doesn’t know how to enjoy the simplest and most beautiful things?

Microfiction Challenge: The Red Tree

writingThis is my first time participating in Jane Dougherty’s Microfiction Challenge. When I saw the promt picture, by the artist Virginia Frances Sterret, I just had to make a story for it. I love it! 🙂 Just look how pretty it is:

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And now, here’s my story:

The Red Tree

Ayla had the magic beans and a plan.
Yes, she would have to defeat the giant, but she was ready for it. She had several tricks in her sleeve. With a wide smile on her face, she planted a bean in the ground. Ayla could already picture the gold and the jewels. No more hard work, no more rags, no more, no more…
It took just a few seconds for the tree to start growing. Did the ground move, or was it just her legs shaking?  Yes, the tree grew, but something wasn’t right.
A strange plant appeared before Ayla’s eyes, weak and wobbly. Its stalk was a dark, rotten red, all twisted and turned.

“You freed me,” the plant spoke. “So now, I will grant you three wishes.”

“Three wishes?” Ayla was confused. “But you’re supposed to take me up in the clouds, to the treasure.”

“Treasure in the clouds? I’ve never heard of such a thing…”

“Well, not exactly in the clouds… Anyway, I didn’t free you. I planted you,” Ayla was getting a bit annoyed. This was not a part of her plan. “And it’s genies who grant wishes. Or goldfish. Not trees.”

“That’s quite judgemental of you,” the plant sounded offended. “What do you know about trees, anyway?”

“I’m sorry…” Ayla sighed. “I’m just a bit surprised. Three wishes are a great deal!”

“I’m not sure I want to grant them anymore…”

“Oh, please!” Ayla wasn’t ready to give up on her dreams.

“Fine. What’s your first wish?” the plant sounded friendly again.

“Well, I want to be rich!”

“I try not to be prejudiced, but this is such a human thing to wish for. Riches. Always the riches. Unfortunately, I can’t help you with that.”

“Why not?”

“I’m just a tree! Money doesn’t grow on trees!”

“Well, what can you do?”

“I can grow fruit.”

A number of different fruits appeared. Yellow pears, blue grapes, red apples. Ayla sighed. It was obvious now that things don’t always turn out like the stories tell. She picked an apple, sat comfortably underneath the tree and tasted it. It was very good. She might never become rich, but she could at least make the best of what she had.

Six Word/ Two Sentence Story Combo

writingI like writing some short forms of stories that I’ve encountered here, on other people’s blogs. I think they are very fun to write, and great for practicing your writing. Yesterday, I wrote one six word story, and then the other followed… And in the end, I thought they went well together. So, this is a two sentence story made of two six word stories. XD

The topic is: Fake it ’till you make it.


Face smiled, but eyes were frowning.

Mask on, game of life begins.

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Image Courtesy of Pixabay.com

Six Sentence Story: A New World

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There is no place for her in the new world – he knows it as he kisses her brow, and she smiles, still half-asleep.

He listens to the clock tick, counting the last minutes of the life as he knows it. As he watched the old world go down in flames, he knew that the next one had to be made differently, perfectly, and people should stick to doing simple things in order not to mess everything up again with their imperfect ideas.

And she, she is a painter, an artist. As much as he loves her, he knows that imagination can only cause problems.