They Have No Answers

Jormungand writhed about the feet of Janus as Quetzalcoatl returned to the shores from which Ra departs each day.

The hero of the story stood before them, in awe.

What answers could they provide?

More important yet, what questions could be asked of them?

He pulled out his eye and cast it into the River Styx.

“Why am I alone?” asked the hero. “What did I do that I deserved to be forsaken?”

“You did nothing at all to deserve it,” answered the snake(s) of Coatlique’s face. “And that is the greatest crime of all.”

The hero watched as the woman had to empty her cup and Loki screamed in pain as the venom struck his eyes. The shriek shook the mountain, causing Sisyphus to drop his crucifix.

“So it’s meaningless then?”

“Everything has meaning,” Izanagi told him. “Which makes meaning fairly meaningless.”

Ishmael and Abel ran past the hero, fleeing Cain and Jacob. Hades cursed Zeus for his trickery.

“I don’t understand.”

“Now you’re getting somewhere,” said Coyote. “The first step is admitting you don’t know you have a problem.”

Hercules got drunk and ran Balder through with mistletoe. The world ended.

“Where do I go now? What can I do?”

“Forward,” Anansi told him, “Something.”

The flood then receded, and Brahma helped Noah unload the animals.

“And what of love?” asked the hero of the story.

“Good question,” the universe told him.

Capes 101: A Case for Superheroes in the Classroom

In Talking With Gods, a documentary about acclaimed comic writer Grant Morrison, Morrison presents his unique perspective on Superman: “…then for me the big thing was discovering superhero comics, because suddenly, there were people who could stop the bomb, Superman could take an atom bomb hit to the chest and just shake it off…[and then I realized] that the bomb, before it was a bomb, was an idea, and suddenly that understanding: Superman was a better idea, so why not make [Superman] real instead of [the bomb]?”

Pantheon: Beginnings

Note About This Story: This is part of the whole story I've been developing over the abandoned A-Z Challenge. It's title is tentatively "Pantheon." As is hopefully obvious by now, the story isn't being told chronologically at all. I'll shall compile a post explaining my method and the order and whatnot whenever it strikes me to do so (probably soon). I'm going to try to resume regular updating as of this post, sorry for the long break.


Johnathan Pax climbed the stairs in no direction and every. Like he did most nights, he was visiting his friend Mr. Escher at his immense house. That night, unbeknown to Johnathan, would be the last time he would visit the house. The last time for a very long time, at least.

H is for Hades

So close to being caught up! One more tonight? We'll see. For now, we follow Seven Macaw on his first assignment for his new master...


The screams of the damned echoed off of the cavern walls. The ghostly form coiled in the terrifying throne made of human skulls was motionless, save for the tatters of his night-black cloak waving in the gentle breeze. He had the shape of a man, but it was as if he was made of shadow. The only part of skin that was visible was his hands, and they were pale nearly to the point of being translucent. His cloak was torn and ripped in a tangled mess of shadowy cloth. His breathing was slow, gravelly and pained.

A is for Atlas

I'm taking part in a blog challenge where you post each day with the theme being each letter of the alphabet. 


Mine is the burden of all burdens. I hold up the sky. I am Atlas. No one can match my strength, but no one can match my pain either. No one can ever understand the weight of my suffering. I stand atop this hill for all eternity, with the sky heaped upon my aching and weary shoulders, and so I shall remain for eternity. For who would wish to trade places with me? Who would wish to carry the load that I carry?

Stormclouds and Chariots, part 4

Lightning flaring from his nostrils, Thor spun around to face the voice. There stood a fair skinned giant, who was donned with a toga, and had a massive white beard. His eyes glowed an electric blue and his skin crackled in much the same way as Thor's.

Stormclouds and Chariots, part 2

The wind whistled through the lines of opposing warriors, chilling them under their rattling armor. The only sounds that could be heard was the shifting of metal and fabric, and the rustling of the grass underfoot. From atop the hill, the gathered vikings gazed scornfully down at the gathered army. Above them, a deep grey storm cloud gathered. Moving his brothers-in-arms aside, the viking sentry moved to the front and looked down at the enormous warrior that claimed to be a god. He was grinning psychotically, and his eyes were wide.

Stormclouds and Chariots, part 1

Aawoooom! went the call of the sentry's horn. Aawoooom! it went as he blew again from atop the hill that overlooked the viking village. Aawoooom! sounded the horn a third time, signalling an approaching enemy.