Sue Vincent’s #writephoto prompt this week is
People are easily fearful. Turn off the lights and hardwired anxieties bubble to the surface. We buy our children night lights while terrifying them about all the beasties and ghoulies that inhabit the shadows. Superstitions are easily aroused even amongst the most rational and enlightened of people.
When an impenetrable fog began to envelope the Globe, initially the weather forecasters tried to explain the phenomenon. Then politicians articulated conspiracy theories involving duplicitous foreign powers. Finally religious leaders took to the airwaves to predict the End of Days and a God-driven wrath bringing down the curtain on the temporary supremacy of humankind over its Earth-bound dominion.
They were partly correct. It did involves gods and there was certainly going to be wrath though arrogant and egotistical man was wrong to think he anything to do with what was happening…
Meanwhile at 19 Olympus Drive, Pallas Athena and her husband Atlas stood outside there newly installed ablutoir and listened.
‘What’s he doing?’
Atlas frowned at his wife. ‘How do I know? I don’t have X-Ray vision, do I?’
‘What’s X-Ray vision?’
‘It lets you see through solid objects. The Seer mentioned it alongside helicopters and democracy as things she’d foreseen. Personally I think the old bat ought to be pensioned off because they all sound highly improbable.’
‘I think we should go in. Atlas?’
‘Oh give him a break, Pallas. Horace is a young boy-god. He needs to know how to set his hair to intimidate the masses.’
‘Yes well, that’s all very well but he took that planet you gave him in with him. Zeus knows what he might be doing with it.’
‘I could look through the keyhole?’
‘There’s a keyhole?’
‘They’re the coming thing, apparently.’
‘Really? Go on then. What can you see?’
‘Er… well… nothing. It’s a bit misty.’
‘Misty? What… oh that stupid boy. Horace,’ Pallas Athena yanked open the ablutoir door on a startled looking Horace who was creating whirlpools in the bath. She crossed the room and opened the windows. ‘What have I told you about making sure you let the steam out? Have you any idea what all that humidity does to the paintwork?’
Horace pulled a sulky face. ‘But mum, dad says it’s the best way to ensure my locks are as terrifying as his.’
Pallas looked at Earth spinning over the sink. She blew away the last tendrils of fog. ‘Poor little planet. The inhabitants must be so confused.’
Horace pulled on his toga and joined his mother, who was watching Earth’s multitudes scurrying hither and yon. He shook his tresses over Asia causing an unseasonable monsoon. ‘Maybe they’ll revere me now.’
Pallas gave the planet an unhealthy spin, changing the calendar from Gregorian to Julian in four continents. ‘I think the poor lambs have enough gods just now, my little deity. Now off you go find your cousin Jason. Tell him the fleece he ordered has been delivered, but it’s cerise, not that burnt umber he so loves.’