Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 1

wander back to his last visit with his mother and the words she had spoken to him.
    He whipped his head around to look at the two men with whom he'd spoken, his breath caught in his throat as fear coursed through him. He released his breath with a sigh; their golden skin glowed. They lived and nothing on them had been turned to stone. With glee coloring their voices, they left his shop, talking about the good news and shouting out to him. "We will be here tomorrow to collect the armor. Do have it ready."
    He leaned back against his work station, his breath coming rapidly. That had been too close. What would he have done if he had turned them to stone like his mother had done to all that had set their eyes upon her? How would he have explained to his aunt that her sister's curse had been transferred to him?
    At that, he stopped— his aunt. Thoughts of her had fled when he had realized that Medusa had been killed, and it had not occurred to him that at the moment, she too would be about to hear the story or would be mourning the loss of her sister.
    Quickly, he closed the stalls and took in his merchandise, calling out to his neighbor. "Agathangelos, if anyone comes looking for me, tell him that I have gone home to see my mother. I will be back tomorrow."
    Agathangelos popped his head outside his shop, his face clearly showing the worry he felt. "Is she ill?"
    "Be at peace, my friend. She is well. I merely want to run some errands for her."
    "If that be the case, may the gods go with you and pass unto your mother my greetings."
    The trip home did not take as long as it should have. His steps had been quickened as his agitated thoughts swarmed in his head. He removed the latch on the door with nimble fingers and pushed it open, his feet moving silently on the floors.
    He opened the door to her room quietly and peered in. His aunt had a shawl she had been mending on her lap. Her head was bowed, and wet drops dribbled to the cloth on her thighs. He crossed over to her and wrapped his hands around her shaking shoulders.
    "I'm sorry. Who brought the news?"
    Adelpha raised her head, her blue eyes watery with tears. "Callidora. Before she came, Morpheus brought the news to me in my dreams. I knew even then that she was dead. Zeus have mercy."
    "I've given up hope on the gods ever having mercy on us. They have done nothing but hurt us and use us. I doubt if even they are ever forgiving enough to feel sorry for the loss of a woman whom we hold dear and they have forgotten."
    "Hush, Theris," Adelpha replied, raising a finger to his lips as she spoke. "To say that is to mock the gods. They who dwell on Olympus listen, and when the time comes, they gift to their children things of which we never dream or allow ourselves to hope. All we can do is wait."
    Eleftherios bowed his head and buried his nose in Adelpha's hair. She smelt of the fields warming in the sunshine.
    "Been playing with the wheat again?" he asked, voice softened in the hopes that the change would help his aunt and him forget their loss and move on. To dwell in the past was a mistake that would only lead to heartache and eventual death. All he could do was hold on and hope that things would become better someday soon, obviously without any aid from the gods.
    "Demeter has been most gracious to us. The earth lives and provides us with food to warm our bellies. It is only natural to give thanks for the bounty. She sees my joy in the fields, and that is all that matters."
    Eleftherios held his tongue. To speak unfavorably of the gods would merely increase Adelpha's ire and would keep them arguing back and forth for the rest of the day. Now was not the time to think of what Athena had done to them and how Poseidon had used Medusa. She, who had been young and beautiful, had tired of her lover who slaved away and the young boys she had at home. She had wanted adventure and had fallen victim to the sweet tongue of the god of the sea, the mover and shaker of land and the waters. Indeed, she had been naive to think that she would be protected by Poseidon from Athena's wrath after they had lain together in the goddess's temple, and she had paid dearly for it.
    To expect Eleftherios to give reverence to gods who would use and toy with man so, was a thing only a fool would dream.
    ****
    Heat poured from the forge. Sweat pooled in Eleftherios's hair until it ran down his face and his chest. His back hurt, but he kept pumping the bellows, raising the temperature. The blade he