Thursday, July 30, 2015


Dust fell in great sheets, cascading organic against gridded rows of Doric columns. Cold marble softly trembled to an uneven beat. The hearth was lit, of course, although she’d let grow wan and sickly. The dim yellow light exaggerated the faded colors of the great, empty room.

Her brows knit. She kept her quiet vigil. Guttering light poorly lit long, dark tresses. Her long, layered vestments felt too heavy, this day. The hearth-fire continued to dwindle.

More dust shook loose as the limping tremors increased. Hephaestus must’ve been returning from his ceaseless errands. Soon, Ares would flee through a window.

Hestia sighed.

An empty fire in her chest grew, even as the ceaseless flame before her dimmed. She heard the cold winds of the wide world calling. Hunger ached in her eternal heart.

When the flame died away, she turned on heel and fled. With a knowing wink towards a caryatid, Hestia ran free from her vestments.

Naked and laughing, she dashed forth into the noisome world. The cold bit and stung. She smiled, and cast away the last of her fiery chains.

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