Month: June 2011

Forever Young


The news of Death is always awkwardly received. There are no given or laid down behavioural guidelines as to how one should receive such news. Hence here I am in my room, still in shock.

I sat in my room last night when my sis came in to break the news to me, I hoped for hours wanting to believe it was all a joke, a lie or a rumour.

Below is a piece written by my friend Tare who’s also a friend of Chuka’s.

Read his words and let us all take a moment, spare a thought as we remember our brother, friend and acquaintance.
Most of you might not have known him, but for those who did, he sure was special and will always be in our hearts, not just forever but he’ll stay with us forever young.

It was 22:30 on Monday 20th June, 2011 when I got the call. She was wailing, incoherent and inaudible. When I finally made out what she was saying I was sure she was confused, either that or she was joking; the wrong type of joke at the wrong time. I made two other calls and then I knew it was true. 20mins later, I was in their house. The house where I had been a million times before. The house where he had lived for as long as I had known him, but surely as the news had come, he was not there. A house where there had always been joy and laughter was cold; the life had literally been sucked out of it and death had encompassed the place and all you could hear was wailing. Why will she not wail? She has lost a companion, a friend…a BROTHER!

As a man, you have to be strong at times like these, especially for the women. I saw my friend in an obviously dazed state. He probably got the news long before others, but it had obviously not hit him yet. Less than 24hrs before, we had been talking; plans were being made to travel, to show support to our friend and his family at a joyous occasion; a wedding and now that trip will be pushed forward for all the wrong reasons. He was receiving calls and seemed to be ok which seemed to torment others. Then he made a particular call and I saw him breakdown. I saw the grief within him come out. To us he may have been a friend, but to him, he was a brother. They had grown up together and this was not how the story was to end. Where were the celebration; each other as best man at their wedding, where were the children and grand-children? Why should he not grieve? He had lost a companion, a friend…BROTHER! In his case, he has lost a FUTURE!!!

In our human understanding we don’t know why. We fear to question GOD or to ask HIM why, but in our minds we think it. We feel it could not possibly have been his time, not this one, not this guy. So reliable, so humble and so down-to-earth. If you met him and didn’t like him, there was obviously something wrong with you. From the house to the clubs, to the parks, to the gardens, the restaurants to the bukkas, Chicken republic or the corner shops in Gwarinpa, back to the house; he was real. He was funny, loyal and honest. Why will we not miss him? We have lost a good companion, a true friend and a loyal COMRADE!

Even in our grief, in our loss, we should remember his family. Not us who may have surrounded him day-to-day especially during his time in Abuja or at UniJos, not those on his BBM or the people following him on twitter. I mean his real family. The Okeke’s who brought him into this world, who nurtured him and moulded him into the man that we all love so much. The one’s who supported his dreams and aspiration with words and finances, the people he spent his last days with. We shall be grateful to GOD that he was able to spend those last days with them at such a wonderful occasion. We seek GOD’s consolation upon their hearts and soul. For they shall, grieve, they shall wail and they shall miss and why should they not? They have lost a BROTHER, a SON and a bright FUTURE. They deserve your prayers.
My friend Chuka Okeke is gone. Gone to the flames of a burning vehicle. He was loved by many and will be missed by us all. I know he would want us to be happy, but there is no happiness in this. He has departed from us at a time we all feel is not the right time, but GOD alone knows the right time.
C for Chuka…Rest in Peace. “T for Tare” is definitely going to miss you…

I’ll also like to point out that Chuka’s beloved sister, Uchenna was with him and also lost her life in the car crash along with 3 other people. She was a good friend of mine.

May the souls of the departed rest in Peace with our Lord.

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Apollo


Apollo

Apollo watched Artemis from a concealed corner of the club on a first floor balcony within the building. He could see her moving and he knew what she was doing. She missed Delphi, her temple, her worshipers. Here she was reduced to dancing the ancient dances alone. No offerings and no Virgins to accompany her.

He was unseen to every mortal around him at the moment, he could not risk it, other deities and creatures of old had invaded the mortal world and had even gone as far as to device ways to look more and more human. Such acts were not regulated by the gods or any Olympian, but it was frowned upon none the less. Thousands of years ago an unwritten/ unspoken rule had been agreed upon that association or in- breeding with mortals was to be stopped, so far the gods and especially Zeus had kept to this unspoken rule, not the others though and being detected at such a time would cause unwanted panic amongst the ‘others’.

Apollo floated directly above Artemis, over the 11,000 years she had spent as a mortal he had watched over her, always making sure not to reveal himself to her. He was quite sure she had all her memories as a goddess, her abilities and powers he could not be sure, he preferred to keep a distance from her so as not to alert her senses. Artemis was a great hunter with a remarkable sense of smell and instinct.

Today he was about to break all the rules he had established regarding observing his beloved sister. Things had gotten worse back on Olympus and bearing it alone was beyond him.
The only option left to him was to find a way to get Artemis back to Olympus.

Apollo had been hurried along secretly by Zeus, Hades and Poseidon had called for an unprecedented council meeting.All Zeus had said was: “bring Artemis home.”

This had never been done before, no god had spent this much time on Earth. Here he was trying to change it all.
It was time his sister returned home.

Apollo tried to stay afloat, the wings he had borrowed from Eros could never feel comfortable, even the god of love had found it difficult to lend them to Apollo but he had no choice, Zeus had decreed it. Now Eros lay hidden far from Olympus, from the prying eyes of Poseidon and Hades.

No swifter means could have gotten Apollo to Artemis this fast.

As he watched his sister, he wondered how remarkable it was, even with her dark skin and dark hair he had easily located her, how unintentionally she looked far more graceful and pristine than anyone else in the room.

He looked to a nearby table and observed 3 ladies seated with an expensive bottle of champagne gently dipped inside a bucket of ice give Artemis distasteful glances as she danced. She had obviously stolen their thunder, eyes were barely looking in their direction.

They looked humanly beautiful but how could they dare compare to Artemis, thankfully Aphrodite would not make an appearance. The goddess Zeus feared would cause a war on Olympus.

Apollo refocused again to the mission at hand. He found it disbelieving that he would be chosen to carry out this mission. Even though Zeus had been partially secretive about the whole reason for the banishment and the sudden need to recall Artemis, he suspected his father’s position as the king of the gods being threatened was a key reason for this summon.

As Apollo watched from above, he couldn’t help but recall the early days after his birth, how he had singlehandedly slain Python then his step-mother Hera had sent Tityos after him. It was then Artemis had come to his aid. But the giant who had tried to rape their mother Leto had proven hard to defeat but Zeus had come to their aid, hurling Tityos down to Tartarus and spreading him on his back. There he lay till this day like Prometheus, his liver fed upon each day by two vultures.

That had been he and Artemis’ first battle together, and they had such an unusual bond since then, perhaps it was the singular acknowledgment of the need to preserve each other at the behest of Leto or it was an in born will inherited from their father Zeus, it was still a mystery.

He had been caught in his thoughts but suddenly he realized Artemis had left the dance floor, she moved too abruptly. Apollo was suspicious. He glanced around the room quickly and soon found out why.

10 meters from her stood a half breed harpie, the whole time concealed in its human form. This would normally have not been a cause for alarm had the creature not begun to make familiar sounds only Apollo and Artemis would have been able to discern as being hostile. The creature had begun to advance towards Artemis while it shed its human form unnoticed by the mortals around it. Its cry was painfully screeching and unpleasant, its quick recognition had caused Artemis to flee. It was one of the 3 ladies who were seated with the champagne bottle.

This was not part of the plan and Apollo knew he had to act fast.

Outside the club Artemis ran towards the car park trying to locate where she had left her vehicle. She was defenseless against such a creature without her bow and arrow or a Spear.
Half way through the park she heard the same noise she heard above the loud music on the dance floor, the creature had closed up the distance between the two of them and was getting closer, then she heard its wings begin to flap. It had taken flight and was no doubt going to attack her from above, a surprise attack she wouldn’t expect, the creature would pick its timing to strike, knowing fully well she had no means to defend herself.

She had to think fast. She sensed the Harpie coming in for its first attack. With almost Lightning quick reflexes she jumped to her left behind a car, it was just at the same time she felt a leathery sheet hit her on the side, it took her of balance and cause her to bang her head against the car door. She felt dazed, for a moment she tried to be aware of her surroundings as quick as possible but it was too late. She heard the wild shrill and looked up as the Harpie came in for the kill, Its blackened weathered skin seemed unreal, its eyes filled with hunger and hate, claws of bone mangled with flesh. Its menacing cry was of victory of the hunt and it dove to claim its prize.

Inches away from her face it seemed to get knocked off course, for a moment she saw its eyes become lifeless as it got flung by an unseen force onto the bonnet of an a nearby vehicle.

For a split second Artemis lay there confused, she got up and looked at the creature as it lay still on the car’s hood, wings and body acutely mangled together. Then she saw the arrow that had pierced its side. Her eyes followed the direction from which the arrow had come, she looked to her left and saw the shape of young man of average height standing in the shadows beneath a tree. The boy held tight to a golden bow with an arrow held within his grip at the ready.
His presence was familiar but a feature made her doubt who he was, the wings that fluttered behind his back were unrecognizable and that was reason enough for her not to go any closer to him, her eyes searched her surrounding area for any make shift weapon; how she wished she held a spear at this moment.
He stepped out of the shadows as he spoke his name in the most ancient of languages; ” It is I, Apollo”. His grip loosened on the bow and arrow as he said this.

Artemis saw him under the moonlight, the first time in over 11,000 years, his face as youthful as ever, his body well proportioned and formed. She couldn’t help herself from feeling so much joy.
He was covered in a dark hooded robe, even that could not conceal the shine he exuded.
“Sister, I have come to take you back home” .

******ONE NIGHT******* Chapter 2, Part 3******


Take that shot.

The Russian paced the room, waiting, he didn’t bargain for this.. It was supposed to be a simple pick up in Africa. Now here he was, stuck in Nigeria, his KLM ticket lay on the bed. The Jacket flipped open. As he paced the room, he took an occasional glance at the ticket, with his passable English he could make out the words ‘Departure’ and that appointed time was 12:00. ‘Destination: Moscow. He hated being too far from his Service pistol. Naked wasn’t the word; vulnerable was appropriate. Now the departure time had elapsed.

Part of the deal his employers had ridiculously agreed to with the apparently inept Nigerian secret service was the guarantee that he would not be carrying a weapon on the trip.

He felt vulnerable being without his service pistol, not like he couldn’t handle himself, in fact he was far more dangerous than an average man wielding an AK47 rifle on a good day.

Considering part of his training had consisted of 16 hours with barely any warm clothing while being thrown into the Siberian Wilderness and left to fend for himself for that duration of time.

He had come out a changed man. His training officer had promised him; “if you can live through this Drakov, you can live through anything..”

The man had been right, 13 years and 8 gun shots wounds sustained while on two separate stints in Sarajevo, he had gained notoriety within the walls of the FSB as ‘The Ghost’.

Drakov lived for one thing and only one thing; his job. Having experienced extreme poverty during the dying days of the Soviet Union he saw his country change before his eyes but it never changed for him and his household. His Father, a local drunk but a proud and loyal socialist party member forbade him from partaking in what he called ‘the Western Devils reaping’.

The only place Drakov was allowed to find work once he was done with school was in the Army. There his father believed, were the last of Stalin’s Children.
He believed Gorbachev to be a rat, a cowering one at that.

Drakov had the advantage of being athletic and bright and therefore it placed him at the top of his regiment for all activities. He was a brilliant marksman and was soon noticed by the Elite Russian Commandos. It didn’t take long before the FSB came seeking his services.

On his first day at FSB headquarters he wondered what his father would have thought. he recalled the heart-break the man felt upon hearing of the disbandment of the KGB. He simply shrugged the thought aside, according to his briefings he wasn’t supposed to reveal his new operational status to anyone.

Siberia surely changed Drakov, his colleagues still whispered and made up stories about those hours he spent in the wilderness. The rest of them never lasted longer than 5 hours before shooting off their flares (the one and only thing they were allowed to carry). Drakov on the other hand came back to base on his own spending the full 16 hours.

To the Nigerians, the Russian’s protection was adequate but Drakov still didn’t believe their claims that his presence in the country was completely off the radar. His detection would have set off alarms in such places as Langley and M16. Intelligence analysts scrambling to find any form of connection with an active Russian agent’s presence in Nigeria and any other piece of significant information.

He still paced the room, he was due to make a phone call to his superiors.

Alexi Drakov was a man with little time. The package had failed to materialize and true to form the guys at local relations at predicted that lines of communications would be poor so he was on his and in the dark as to why he had not received the package or had not being updated on the condition of the package.

Drakov took out his special issue cell phone and pressed a single button. After two rings the line at the other end became open. The voice was indifferent and gruff; “has Damocles been recovered?”
“It still hangs by a tread” was all Alexi said. The line went dead.
He placed the cell phone back in his pocket and picked up his pack of cigarettes.
He needed something right now only one man within a 500meter radius could provide for him. He headed right out the hotel room and as he predicted was halted by his ‘sitters’ , two completely inept Secret service men who didn’t seem to discuss anything other than the English Premiership. He swiftly walked past the two of them and gestured with his hands that he’d be returning shortly then he bumped into a lady who seemed to have been keeping vigil over the adjacent door to his room. She seemed slightly flustered and immediately apologized.
Drakov didn’t wait to receive it but kept on moving towards the service stairs. One habit he had learned was never to spend longer than 2 minutes in any confined space in a building he had not secured personally.
His trainers had always told him; “you might as well put a bullet through your head if you don’t know what to expect when taking a long trip in an elevator once the door opens.
Drakov was soon at the Hotel bar and he immediately ordered 4 straight shots of vodka. In quick succession he knocked each glass back before lighting a cigarette, taking a long drag before exhaling deeply.

He had to find a way to get information out of the Director he had met late last night upon his arrival without looking desperate.
Sadly, he was not one known to be subliminal or subtle.
The priority for him was getting the parcel to Moscow and no one could stop him.
Damocles needed to be secured and he was chosen for this special reason. He was the best.
He need to act fast even if it meant torturing the two ‘sitters’ left at his hotel room door.
With a clearer head and a sharper brain Drakov headed back to his room with a plan gradually forming in his head. He took the service stairs back up only to see his two minders sluggishly coming down the stairs obviously looking for him, he walked past them like they were strangers to him. They immediately queued up right behind him and continued their endless discussion about the finer points of the offside rule.
Just before they turned the corner onto his hotel room corridor, Drakov motioned the two ‘sitters’ to be quiet. He had heard something and didn’t want to take any chances. He made his back flat against the wall and drew up to the edge, after peeping over for about 5 seconds he drew back and started walking back towards the service stairs again. The two sitters looked at him puzzled for a split second before retreating as well and pulling out their cell phones. Drakov spun around and in one swift move dispossessed the two men of their phones.

He wasn’t going to take anymore chances with these guys.
He pulled out his special issue cell phone and pressed the single button. The response at the other was almost instant; “confirm receipt of Damocles….”
Drakov didn’t care to hear the rest of the encrypted question from his superior; “Damocles has been intercepted! I need Pegasus!” he cut the line immediately the voice on the other end of the line had given him specific instructions. He turned around to look at his two ‘sitters’ they stood staring at him motionless.

Drakov now had to revise his plan, he hadn’t anticipated this new development; Right in front of his hotel room stood two men and the same lady he had bumped into on his way out. The man in the middle held the parcel he had come to collect, Damocles.

He walked back to the corner turning into the hotel hallway in front of his room, as he peeped he watched as Dubem, Justice and Feyi deliberated on the brief case. Drakov wondered if he would have to kill any of these people. They seemed harmless.

“You, Me & Footie”


Hello, the football season just ended a few weeks back and most guys like me are bracing for about a month and a half of none football watching activities. But as an early preparatory gift against next season, i decided to put this out there .

#Note; Chelsea Fans should read this note under strict Friendly supervision as it contains abusive words towards them and depicts agonizing images of last season.

Liverpool have failed to handover Torres's Manual to Chelsea

“Sweet heart you’re blocking my view, can’t you see I’m watching a game!” …..
These are one of the many sentences that precede a typical weekend argument between a couple and the usual weekend footie (for those of you who don’t know its football).
It just happens if the football loving, beer guzzling guy decides to watch the game at home and not opt to hang out with his guys at a local pub, bar or garden (for us Abuja people).
The reason I included footie as one of those getting in on the argument is cause, the guy might be a Chelsea fan and they might likely draw or lose so while the said guy is in the middle of an argument with his girlfriend, his dearly beloved pensioners club will be getting beat by either a Sunderland or Spurs (Yes I dislike Chelsea that much), leaving him with a likely fractured relationship with the girlfriend and feeling furious and dejected at having to face another weekend of disappointment and not looking forward to the weekday because the other guys at the office are going to have a go at him specifically due to his inability to curb is verbal diarrhea while claiming his inept ‘blues’ were going to give their opponents the beating of the season.

This might be a typical scenario, or something like this;
A seemingly happy couple live together (happened unintentionally), and have woken up happy, it’s the weekend, barely having anytime to themselves all week because of their respective busy schedules. For The guy, he’s thinking football!!! For the lady, she’s thinking shopping but along these lines; I’ll finally have him take me to that store and get him to buy me that dress I’ve been dreaming of.
Obviously the two of them don’t have a clue that their respective trains of thought are initially in opposing directions but will eventually end up in an head on collision. *sigh* tragedy strikes at lunch time. Note that up until this very moment they have maintained the usual banter; a tease here, a humorous comment now and then, the typical conversation about work.
Unknown to our fair lady, her man has no intention of leaving the house; I mean that’s why he stocked up the fridge with enough food and beer to have two parties that weekend. Not like she didn’t notice the unusual bulge the fridge had developed, but she thought he was finally learning to get the grocery without her having to always remind him (she thought it was romantic/ he thought he had more beer).
Unknown to our gentleman, his lady had developed a nice treasure hunting map(in her head) in such an elaborate way that would eventually lead them to a well placed mall that had the shop which housed her prized and most desired dress of the moment opposite a gadget store (knowing his weakness for such toys). She thought the whole idea was brilliant.
By noon, the game was on, dude’s only business for the day is to take a shower, put on some lazy shorts and a polo top get his beer and watch some footie. He notices his girlfriend is going through her wardrobe looking for something. As soon as he’s settled into his chair, remote and beer in hand, she appears out of nowhere right in front of the screen. Torres just imagined he took a shot and the ball goes sideways for a throw-in, Ancelotti seems to be telling his assistant that Liverpool still haven’t sent him the player manual for their #50,000,000 acquisition.
The guy misses all that because he’s staring at the figure of his girlfriend which for a split second doesn’t seem appealing compared to the match going on behind her.

Initially he can’t make sense of what she’s saying but eventually manages to pick out ‘going out’. His facial expression changes from ‘confused’ to ‘utterly perplexed’.
He manages to mutter; “but I thought we were going to stay in today…”..
She’s not taking that particular revelation too well and when she starts to give a speech about him not caring about her or wanting to take her out, she stops mid- sentence and realizes his attention is actually on the screen; Asamoah Gyan is actually tucking the ball into the net right behind Peter Cech. He winces.
At this point she has finally had enough. She storms out of the living room throwing expletives in the air. He ignores this outburst, he needs to finish the game but something at the back of his mind tells him this is not the last he’s going to hear of this.
About 75mins later, Chelsea has just lost at the bridge 0 – 3 and his ego is all bruised up. He slowly walks into the room, hands in pocket, neck hanging. The room is empty, she’s nowhere to be seen and there’s a note lying on his side of the bed.
Picking it up, he recognizes her hand writing. It reads thus;

“Dear ……. Since you’ve decided to cheat on me with footie I’ve decided to elope for the day
with your credit card and your car. If you’re looking for me I’ll be at ‘Isolde’s picking up
A few dresses. It’s my new beau- VISA who’s getting them for me…. I think I like VISA better than you
Dinner’s in the freezer just toss it in the microwave and press defrost

NB: going out for drinks with the girls after.”

He walks back into the living room, slumps into the Sofa and lets out a huge *sigh*. His emotional spectrum has traversed from angry to a feeling of guilt.
He replays the events of the day in his head, and gradually begins to realize what happened. He sits there for a few more hours then picks up his phone, he then proceeds to send her a message vie BB:

-Hey,
– How’s the shopping going?
-Make sure you pick up two extra dresses and a sexy lingerie on your way out,
-I’m making dinner.
-ttyl.

He then gets up and proceeds to the kitchen to make dinner.

Well, that’s a totally hypothetical scenario.
Tell me what yours is.
You’re asking me what mine is. *Laugh wan tear my belle give me pregnancy* ..
I’m going to get a dog. *straight face*

Far from Olympia


I’ve always wanted to do something related to Greek mythology, so i recently came up with an idea. I’ve created a category called the Olympus series, any one who has in-dept knowledge or wants to contribute can get in touch with me, I’ll really appreciate.

Hope you all enjoy it, here’s the first part

ARTEMIS

There were times she swore she saw Zeus in a bustling crowd, then again, there was a bit of Zeus in every man she came across; her own father could not be trusted, that was a historically known fact.

After all they had been through, millennium after millennium, war after war, this was her reward. The anger that burned within her could never dissipate, never! 11,000 years of being confined to such varying mortal frames. To be reincarnated when each body’s life force was expended, bearing freshly the memories of the previous lives she lived.

Surely Zeus had not thought these things through, seizing the immortality of the goddesses and leaving them to experience life and death over and over again.

For the first few hundred years it had been mere amusement. Something they themselves had in some way desired. But when the first millennium passed,the humor in the entire experience was gone. Like the other goddesses had experienced, the mortals they had come to live amongst had become boring, disrespectful and worst of all, had totally forgotten about them.
She had seen with her own eyes as some of her sacred temples got pulled down with no form of disciple or follower putting up a fight. A place she always loved to visit. what was left were a hand full of relics, turned into nothing but tourist attractions. Shemade frequent visits to these sites when she could, lingering around in the shadows of her shrine and hoping to hear worshipers call out her name.

This had happened in the western lands. They had forsaken the sacred rites of worship and had embraced their own contraptions and creations; or so they believed. She witnessed these mortals on their first flight into the heavens and even beyond in a short period of time.

Now mortals were on the edge of recreation of life itself. This unsettled her in no small way, she would spend many nights imagining what it would have been like if all 12 Olympians were to have been seated while these things happened. Poseidon would have called for mankind’s destruction by water obviously. Hades would surely begin to dream of a much larger domain to control (a chance to usurp the brother he so loathed).

Apollo, the one she could never take her eyes off, her beloved twin.
He couldn’t care any less.
How she missed her twin. How he would sit in a garden, a secluded part of Olympia, playing music only he knew the origins of.

As her mind wandered back and forth it gradually settled upon her current life, she had not expected it but her present incarnation excited her.

It was the life of an African.
Born into a well to do Nigerian family in the early 1980s. It was the first dark-skinned form she would be appearing in, having already lived as a Chinese woman in the Han dynasty, native American Indian & a woman from Milton Keynes amongst many. Her immediate past life had been a German woman who ended up being a nurse during world war 2. Her ability to miraculously heal people, especially women was put to use albeit on the wrong side. She didn’t really care much if the Germans were on the right or wrong, all that mattered to her was the urge to stop the suffering and pain she witnessed.

As a goddess she had played a major role in the Trojan war, stopping the Greek and Spartan ships from sailing and forcing Agamemnon to sacrifice his daughter. Apart from Apollo most of the other gods had wanted the war to end as soon as possible, not the more than a decade war that it turned out to be. Soon after Troy fell, as she walked amongst the ruins of the shattered city, she felt no satisfaction, no accomplishment, even her worshipers fell silent.The war had been baseless. Over a golden apple? And they had allowed Paris to be the judge of their beauty. As she thought about it now, after her series of mortal experiences she felt slightly ashamed. Undoubtedly experiencing these more complex feelings had initially been unsettling, but as their frequency increased she became more accustomed to understanding them and their origins.

The need to stop many deaths had plunged her into the middle of another senseless war.She had chosen not to take sides but to focus on the help she could render, at the end of it all the stories were horrifying. The death camps and human experimentation. Already advanced in years, she disappeared into the mountains, stayed in seclusion and for the first time experienced the human feeling of guilt. Her life force died shortly after

Her name now was Asabe, the only child of her parents. The fact that one of the attributes Olympians had was the ease with which the got jealous was probably why she was always the only child to any of the families she was born into.

Asabe was dotted on by both her parents. Yet she asked for the most unexpected of gifts for her 10th birthday; a quiver full of real arrows and a bow. She hung these items on the wall in her room. They reminded her of her possessions left behind on Olympia.She banished the thought of never returning, never seeing her estranged Mother Leto, never discussing the thrills of the hunt with Apollo.
At 27 her human form’s flawless beauty had bloomed. The long line of suitors seemed almost endless yet it was a pitiful sight. The truth would surely be incomprehensible to them no without her revealing her true nature; as the goddess of virginity her chastity was second nature.

How she missed Orion, the only man who ever understood her. She spent many nights watching the stars, where Zeus had preserved him.

Her mind came back to her present surroundings, She sat in her pottery shed, in front of her latest creation, a large vase that she was definitely going to enjoy painting. The previous ones she had made were selling at ridiculous prices and the art dealer who was helping her was beginning to loose his mind, asking her to make a few more and at a faster pace.
In another place she would have struck him down for trying to give her instructions.
But today she wasn’t going to be rushed, she felt an air of freedom surround her. For the first time in a long time she was less tense. ” i guess I’ll go out tonight”

A few hours later she was all dressed up in a black, short, body hugging long-sleeved dress, high-heeled blue shoes and a clutch purse, she let her unnaturally long hair lose for the night. She would be going alone, the last of her chosen girls had finally lost her virginity and she wasn’t willing to seek out new underlings. In as much as it pained her she knew there was little she could do to stop her underlings from getting deflowered, unlike the old days when young girls where specially chosen to tend to her devoted to lives of chastity and attending to her every need.

She missed her golden chariot, pulled along by her ever so excited deers. Now she made do with one of the amusing contraptions mortals had created; a car.
Getting into the club was not a problem, it was trying to tell as much men as she could that she would not be requiring company. She soon found her way to a corner of the crowded building and nestled in a seat with her drink. She watched for a bit before taking the last drops of her cocktail. Her thoughts were focused on Delos, her birth island, she rose from her seat and walked towards the center of the dance floor, in her mind she found herself in the midst of her worshipers during one of her commemorative festivals, as the music played she lost all inhibitions and threw her hands in the hair, her neck and hair flung back and her body moving invitingly to the music. In the cascading light she closed her eyes and danced then mouthed the words: “worship me”

Unknown to her, from an elevated view-point, despite the crowd, despite the music, despite the lights, an ancient pair of eyes watched her.