Tag Archives: Zeus

A Natural Disaster – 208 words

Oops.

I was aiming for a Moses-parting-the-Red-Sea kind of thing. Instead, I cracked open the earth. Again.

I’m such a clumsy idiot.

Mama says I just don’t know my own strength. Well, that’s what happens when you’ve got a god for a father.

Of course Zeus claims it’s my temper and mischievousness that get me into so much trouble. He insists heritage has nothing to do with it.

My cousins laugh at that. The world is rife with examples of apples not falling far from the tree. So are the heavens.

There’ll be hell to pay for this.

Hades will be pissed, of course – he doesn’t take kindly to people flooding his underworld.

Poseidon will come after me with that pointy trident. Territorial, that one. No one else gets to play with water? Whatever.

Athena will roll her eyes, like she always does. She thinks she’s so wise, just because she knows how to get inside daddy’s head.

Maybe I can blame this on Pandora. She makes a convenient scapegoat these days, I admit.

Or maybe I can convince daddy I did it on purpose. An homage to him, this “smoke that thunders.”

Oh well. The damage is done.

Now all I can do is admire it.

And there you have it – my homage to Greece packaged into 200 (+/-) words, incorporating the photo prompt and the idea of man vs. nature. What do you think?

The gods demand you visit the shrine that is Flash Friday Fiction, to honor those writers who’ve given their stories as oracles of amazingness to the world.