Artemis looked around: anger had disembarked her contemporary story into a fog of unknown substance, acrimonious waves setting her boat adrift--clinging to crags with tired fingertips...fragile shilling slipping away behind shaking hands. She feared the strange half-memory carried over from a nightmare--of wandering down a trail to face the fate brought on by happiness, to take escapades with pride in unwell company. There was no way to forestall the fears injected by endless nightmares, to deny the reasons for such haunting motifs--proclaiming the very real fear she burrowed deep down in an aching heart: admitting what fate may lay at the end of a trails beginning, and remain unattached to someone else’s actions--but walking on eggshells in a delicate dance. Artemis was a prisoner to most dreams.

Artemis had a lucid dream where Athena had lowered her from a canyon cliff--looking up to see a smaller, much younger Tila: weeping and attempting to hide, an aggregate wall slipping away in the heavy rain. Athena had told her to get down, or risk getting hurt: only for another sister to pass by...her face askew and spuming to fit the hunt on hand. Dianne had often hid away in dreams as a stranger--needling at terror-filled rooms lining a hallway. “She wishes I wasn’t part of our family!” Artemis yelled below, and knew this to be true, as Dianne had a severe hatred of things that didn’t fit perfectly in her polished narrative--Artemis had always been a threat to an image of serenity. There was no due-punishment for times Hera had demanded battles of violence to settle simple qualms. An abusive household took on a scale of Justice brought on by mentally ill partiality and a desire for plenary authority--to be tipped and toppled freely.

Artemis needed to be painted as evil, more wicked than Dianne at any cost--forced to cause harm physically, a decade after Hera had half-heartedly reprimanded Dianne for harming her sexually as a child. The woman in charge; had painted concerns of abuse and transformed them into the lesser word called "complaints", backed by no-evidence--outside of the tearful words of a confused child. The shrill woman would be more-than-capable of lying to a judge--a mask of old age being used to tarnish any account or recollection of the scolding. Memory issues plaguing any questioning plying into the territory of parenting and whatever concerns were being addressed; without the favorite scaping fostered daughter to oppose. Life was less fun for Hera; without an opposition garnering opinions in the silence--there would be one less juicy battle for her to claim victory...hissing that Artemis was almost considered "retarded", a word that wasn’t used lightly; unless it were to misconstrue the words of teachers...wondering why her attention remained on staying in a primary class, and not necessary on the classwork given. Safety in the home had been the reason why Artemis chose to love academics, athletics and being on stage so freely.

Artemis would always be the only victim--to beauty given to her upon birth, told by Hera that brilliant smiles were flirtatious and inappropriate at the age of five; accused of deserving Hera’s dead husbands hand beneath a billowing dress, when Hera herself...refused to allow Artemis to wear protective shorts beneath frills and lace on a Sunday. Hera had pointed out the nature of Dianne forcing the hand of childish games--where they circled back to the intentions of Dianne demanding kisses from Artemis. The refusal to play such dollish games were only considered “disgusting” to Hera--when her own grandchildren were lassoed in, and eventually Dianne probably blacked-out the lecture in its entirety--magically, bewitched by Hera’s teaching of "deny, deflect, move-on"...with Artemis refusing in letting go such manipulative tactics; painted copper and tarnished. Dianne painted gold and allowed to portray a helpful and “pleasant” child with adult maturity freely.

Artemis felt Athena staring up at her, unsure as to why her youngest sibling would rather cope with immediate dangers and face a paralyzing fear of heights...hiding from their own family; her sins in believing a title held a sacred bond had kept them forever distant in life. Something had to be beyond-wrong. It would be the silence that brought out the protecting nature in Athena; forced to recall Artemis paying severe judgement for having told Hera the truth, and waking up to see Dianne holding a pillow over Artemis’s face--the elder sibling ripping another away and screaming...not for help (no one cared what happened to Artemis in their childhood home, so Athena began lecturing the child herself). Artemis awoke to the sounds of commotion; drowning in worn-in thread counts and grasping to find air or reasons to the sensation of drowning on land. They had survived a life where children were seen as a great burden--left to implicate and dictate the hands of justice and judgements freely.

Athena grabbed Artemis by her waist in the dream--probably asking why she does things in such a dramatic fashion, or what was "wrong with her", possibly asking why she was "like this."--the blame forever spread evenly: despite Artemis’s agoraphobia, and patterns of being victim to physical violence. A baby sister clung to Athena and hugged her in apology when tears and physical shaking replaced her expected words: she was left realizing--Artemis had broken away from reality; to cope with complex post-traumatic stress...caused by a stranger terrorizing her for eternity. Artemis had wasted life away--breaking her sanity down to be helpful to a world without hope: advocating extra work had to be done...first to seek justice, and secondly to audit losers like a retired "Detective" Mayor--his wielding of partiality had caused the death of bride to unsolved for decades, to protect his booming feelings and stats. A timely retirement shouldn’t be the only way the walls of obstruction came crumbling down; and due to a pale and privileged life...the man faced zero-consequences for his actions--in causing a perversion and obstruction of Justice willingly, knowingly, and freely.

Artemis had seen the bleak writings on the wall; elders became deaf by choice...ripping out tech-savvy eardrums whenever their sins came to the surface of an ocean of information. Ears needed to bleed, doors broken down by journalists before rants filled with excuses would stop; "it was a different time" could only take their lies so far. Artemis was forever twirling around in a room of ghostly figures...they would never be free from the consequences of judgement for eternity in her ugly world--she had gathered their souls to be dragged to Hades, their last names being the only legacy left of their crimes...while Artemis rummaged around a chest of "solved" and cold cases--her scientific blood keeping fuels of hatred held to a fire, telling the citizens to start over at every turn. The need to look over each and every case touched by a corrupt detective had become its own occupation: she took delight in holding elderly feet to a fire--to craft a timeline where the citizens could hang elders up "by their boot-straps", and if they were lucky...they could solve a few more of the cases unable to be resolved, when the bullshit boy’s clubs were closed down...their department funding held hostage to prove that authority figures had spent generations inflicting more harm than helping the citizens; manipulating and interpreting the law freely.

Athena had always protected Artemis as much as she could--out of maternal instinct, and the belief held for a youngest sibling that foolishly charged effortlessly into battle...often swiping away at the enemy with an ancient invisible sword--blindly hacking away and taking names down upon victory. Artemis wouldn’t trade Athena for the world; she had always been really good at trying to be a big sister whilst, Dianne had spent her life...attempting to riddle Artemis’s heart with fear and intimidation--occasionally sprinkling in "support" to deregulate with the words brandished. Artemis was nothing like one woman with childish tendencies, and mirrored the other quite effortlessly in moments of conflict. She felt unstoppable holding an orange sphere; sensing the concerns of the opponent when realizing the smallest player was about to pose a real problem--Artemis caulking her head in cocky intrigue; humming "I’m the problem..its me". A strong work-ethic helped her pull whole losing battles at her heels, pretending to be a counterpart to Athena’s natural athleticism. Artemis was so proud to be born to the same family as Athena, and it gave her immense joy to know that she’d had always been able to hug the woman at any moment; a bratty maneuver for attention...seemed so hurtful to a grieving heart...page edits becoming tortuous and deserved whenever Artemis stepped into random chapters, unlike wooden courts--fallen temporary adversaries would remain fallen. Her life was no longer fun, a leather sphere heavy and daunting--her words no longer callous, Artemis had lost everything that brought comfort into her day and was left surviving one day at a time; existing through stories that now felt like one horrific and awful dream.

Artemis looked around her cold chamber, and stared at her shield with few contacts: the only two people she cared to care about, or even wanted to speak with-- were seemingly absent from her life. Athena had left life untied--offended that Artemis couldn’t agree with Dianne’s many demands, as to how to raise a teenage daughter: Artemis couldn’t agree with a woman that casually sentenced death as a logical form of discipline, for the price of fashion threatening an image of femininity--she had wandered off, tired of a siblings out-of-pocket "jokes"; about women deserving death for wearing shorts slimming and athletic. Artemis had thought the spare thought had been random...until a teenager niece wandered by; abstaining from desert heat by choice in clothing and lazily taking up the hobby of napping all day. She had done everything in her power to prepare the world for jabbering interviews, meandering narratives...hoping that a life spared would be a niece--if it meant Artemis could hold a protective title of an auntie as a crowning jewel freely.

Artemis left the tightly-knit forming friendship--its tapestry straggling with loose frayed ends; knowing that Athena would always wonder as to her whereabouts...ready to catch her if Artemis ever lost her grip or footing in reality, or fell from the canyon walls that began to rise higher and higher. To be given the forgiveness of professionals; swaddling the only living sibling...gazing up to see Artemis trapped along the resounding walls of a red canyon, her own blood dripping over its rocky texture--knowing that things like PO or the number 5 had hidden away another criminal for decades. To be a bride, a loving wife...wouldn’t be, and shouldn’t be demoted for the sake of comfort; Artemis believing the depth of her worries being tied to Dianne’s hopes and dreams.

It gave Artemis pride that Athena had once caught her from falling--keeping an injured sibling company as she regrew legs, suffering from regular things like heartbreak in her mid-twenties. This was more than comforting for Artemis--to know that she could scream her many fears downward at the woman: unable to hold and injured neck up, but using words like "afraid and lonely". Artemis reminded Athena of her first time facing the woman alone and unarmed: “I wish you weren’t part of our family!”: these were the words Dianne had cast at Artemis in a fit of childish rage--Athena had heard the dangerous tone she dispelled at their youngest sibling, the spell of likability had been broken for only a moment. “What’s wrong with you!?” Athena had stepped-in as a wedge between the two, and turned her back away from Dianne: placing hands softly around a confused girl as she wept silently with confusion and began to mangle worried hands, Athena being attacked from behind the one and only time by an outburst of intermittent rage--sheer anxiety, and unbridled truths taking the reigns freely.

Artemis suffered post-traumatic stress before they had been reunited as children: she already knew such dangerous words were often followed by violence...an old home held the memories of fostering parents biological son, her "brother" tossing a toddler down the stairs of a basement...Artemis abandoned in the dark, a crooked nose bleeding...waiting for anyone to care enough to look for a missing child. Dianne would easily waste the Jury’s time: yammering on mindless details, as to why Artemis was a mis-allocated use of public resources--how trails had been overlooked or ignored, or how Artemis chose to jog on trails as a hobby, and understood the risks taken; when blessed with a vast smile. Artemis was taught by Athena to evaluate, listen, and to agree whenever people held fair-points...there was nothing wrong with being wrong on the occasion. They were two rational people, and then there was Dianne--who believed that sucking up all the oxygen in the room; meant she was more important than the truth at hand. Artemis was sure that they had heard plenty, as to how Artemis was sick with her struggles with substance abuse, and to that: Artemis told the Jury…”yeah. I’m an alcoholic.” It wasn’t a mystery, or even a rare trait worth exploiting...Dianne’s own mother and mother-in-law had suffered the same disease and given forewarning as to the disdain cast for anything imperfect--in world spinning loopily on the illusion of perfection; unchecked and tilting and teetering freely.

Artemis had found an error in genetic coding, evaluated it with scientific precision...piled with evidence to back a theory, and corrected the flaw with the steady hand of surgeon--as a fair-enough apology to right a few wrongs and hoping to make the citizens proud. She single-handedly chose...to not dismantle hard work; courageously salvaged an entire career by holding a bottle to her head like a loaded weapon, laughing at herself and tossing it aside...knowing the sound of broken glass was triggering to all of it. Because, just like Athena: Artemis was an exceptional human. Artemis had made history by crafting artifacts that broke sound barriers, and Athena had Mach speed in athletic abilities…so, where did that leave Dianne in this story? It left her with only the soul mission to humiliate, belittle Artemis, to covet her suffering from time-to-time...and placate blame upon a regular lady surviving in an already unforgivable world freely.

Luckily for Artemis; Dianne would remain behind words of obscurity--distant as a half-sibling with concerning qualities: chained Beyond the Black Rainbow, hidden away in her dreams with the guilty posture of Samara Morgan. A delay in events contributed to the contrasting nature of environments painted, when one mother apologized--to the victims of the family, and Hera removed title-ship altogether--stripping all layers of gold to salvage ego--to barter truths, as a last-ditch effort to walk away unscathed. Luckily, for Artemis...Colleens sacrifices would be worth something--while holding a despondent witness to a lists of established questions: the evaluation of an evil individual citizen named Chism...would shatter a self-image of grandiosity--or cast doubt as raining patterns, free of the concept of lightening striking twice by luck: to provide legally sufficient evidence for a sentencing and verdict freely.

Artemis looked around her ugly dream-like fog, lifting weighted limbs one after another and stomping in a muddy terrain--the lies that brought others comfort...held the deepest of assertions; when addressing the public’s concern for mental health awareness. “I thought some idiot promised to drain this?!” Artemis snapped back into reality--placing worries of sibling hunting her down as escalated concerns for another day. Artemis took no joy in the suffering of others...two older half-siblings did enough of that type to vie for three people--she found no pleasures in disorganization of stones slipping away; meeting bare feet in a swamp filled with criminally muddy waters. Her pathetic life often felt like one exhausting nightmare, followed by endless conflicting dreams.

A Mechanical Boar had forgotten his one promise to “restore Justice”, and he had left the Gods of Olympus in the marshlands: his body eroding away to sickness--a weak heart overlaying the symptoms parallax to what some citizens deemed as syphilis; the mad emperor had lied to professionals for the sake of ego, and traded glory for the fated promise of infamy. Artemis shook her head in boredom: she hated all things lazy and without accountability, but a common flu could bring her to empire collapsing in a day. Life was so fickle for common citizens, but she had revoked bets in a patriotic duty--standing still in a moment of sliding standards and choosing to be paid less...assisting disabled citizens from being liabilities to a transportation Port; watching as others sat in misery--blindly hoping for back-pay or claiming days of sickness to seek other occupations. The worst thing about being a stubborn person in a pond infested with worms and snakes; hadn’t been the loneliness...but, the jarring expectations that came when others needed a helping hand. Plenty of citizens swatted away her hand in times of menial conflict; and then tossed all pride aside to crawl and claw at nubile ankles when shit got real--moments of her caring had already slipped from their grasps, and Artemis painted as merciless for walking away freely.

She forgot the trick to wading through mushy lands was to move slowly: nothing was wrong...unless the citizens were the one’s hurting--none of it was real--until the citizens deemed it real. The cowardly choices of others had nothing to do with her ability in taking each step with equal temperament and patience. Artemis looked around to find Athena, yelling her name and hoping for her safety--mostly, wanting a sister to notice the sickness that kept productivity at bay. Athena could always see past the moments where two siblings were both painted as OutKast, Artemis whimpering, boggled down as she said "Hey Ya."--managing an ambitious sibling with the reprimand "quit playin"...the scale collapsing with earned apology from a sickness of low-iron, forcing Artemis into early retirement from the stage--crying endlessness for worry of letting everyone down. Dianne hadn’t needed anyone--"The Whole World" spun on her desires to find love and fortune. Artemis was forever a baby, needing to be babied by Athena--a single woman dredging along in the dreary world; successful but taxed to the brim by mundane chores; pouting at the fact fame had slipped further away each day--dropping a red velvet curtain, once and for all. Dianne had finally found love, and moved the finish-line of death doing her and her beloved apart--to include eternity in moments when nothing felt enough. Athena had always taken great worry in seeing Artemis in moments where age was undeniable--sullen eyes and creasing cheeks no longer puckered and hid the battles of trauma that remained haunting her dreams.

"Athena, I look like shit."--Artemis mourned the silence of the swamp; she was utterly alone in the world. The reader asked themselves...what does that have to do with a Mechanical Boar? Artemis looked around a void of all-consuming black and white pebbles: she shrugged and said, “everything.” There came a baseline of cordial friendship when noticing people that painted sickness as weakness, and Artemis knew Dianne saw weakness as opportunity to strike--moreover, pity was reserved for those deserving of such delicate emotions. Incendiary moments of vulnerability had been ink’d for the world to see and admire how Athena had always been a confidante, the more common the wound--the more light-hearted the response would be, and the more dramatic a baby sibling would appear; pleading with the Gods to spare her from the flu...or get it over with "RIP me". Artemis missed Athena so deeply in obdurate moments; needing to hear a soft chuckle and the demands that she just sleep it off. Instead of childish concerns being whimpered to Athena; Artemis was left to mourn and sniffle her way through the day...half-afraid to wake up and realize how ugly reality had become outside of her tireless dreams.

Artemis had suffered from post-traumatic stress after being smothered as a child, and it had caused her to wet her bed until the age of seven--the severe punishment of humiliation came when: Hera told anyone-and-everyone of the burdens carried when caring for the children of others. Artemis often just let things happen, saying less and residing with carved out understanding in truth provided by a series of events--when the truth no longer mattered to those around them; she was left the burden of truth--pulling up soiled sheets and watching as a sibling coddled the tender skin from Athena pulling her away from a solution. Dianne had seen that Artemis was a sparkling item to the world; cared for by many--deemed a lone possession...barely worth knowing, but cherished by others unfairly and quite freely.

Envy between three sisters had forced one to forgo hygienic habits in a bid for attention: until she was given the nickname “poopy-butt”. The concept of shame was so far from her train of thought, that she’d rather tell a Jury....of the one time Athena was forced to pee in a cup as a last resort...during an extreme discipline method enforced by Hera--than to explain, as to why she was known for having fecal matter left all over their bathroom and her underwear: focused on how a narrative had been changed to worry when a single adult had mentioned Artemis wetting the bed was a genuine cause for concern; silencing an abusive parent--paid by the day to care for a dozen children. The lack-of education was no longer an excuse to Hera in moments where others stood out of range of her twisted reasoning; words gifted on a child’s behalf were a threat to an empire built upon abuses and the check-and-balances of her truths. The devalued child standing nearby; shameless for knowing the entire truth...and holding it close to the chest instead of making an awful life worse, and accepting that everything seemed to be her fault no matter which way the words were placed or actions painted. All but forgetting how a single pillow and ill-intent had disrupted the entirety of her dreams.

Hera would rather gouge out her own eyes--than admit the truths seen in Dianne’s clenched jaw: than to admit the things Artemis had already told a guardian...outside of the lack-of-abuse given to one of three daughters--a hewn collar was the least of her worries when realizing the moment of spotlight came with the dissection of legacy, and a handful of other victims unbeknownst to Artemis would be drawn out by the image of Hera strung up in sky with golden shackles--her flesh plucked away at the hand of children she had so easily abused...long before Artemis had set her kingdom aflame. There would be a sudden change in current--where distancing language, time, and memory issues came bubbling to the surface overnight--when and if...a Jury was forced to witness round-about stories and antics two women used to avoid answering basic yes or no questions. These were simple tricks of the trade Artemis had left behind for a niece to find...to present the world with pre-established concerns and patterns in a series of paintings--hidden behind a grieving niece and crowning bun, somewhat cold-reading words archived without malicious intent: to substantiate whatever fate lay at the end of a hiking trail freely.

Artemis stood in limbo: staring at a calendar that seemed to change without a single care to what tomorrow would bring--the world had finally stepped into her swap: falling ill in fatigue and a reprisal of a flu-like sickness, accessorized with razor blades being jabbed in one’s throat this time around. Artemis looked up from her own slain body--touching a tired clavicle and wondering why such horrific things seemed to reoccur in nightmares, and why Dianne had always been present in such scenes. Artemis began laugh without restraint..."where are you going Betsy?!"--she had seen an evil woman attempting to sneak out the back door, and she dragged the woman by an ugly bob to the courts of public opinion. The strange-looking woman had purposefully lowered the Barr, stealing away education from the citizens children and encouraging the "Brocks" of the Nation to pillage and rape as they pleased--if it meant offering up "God’s will". The pale citizens had been granted freedoms to destroy the Nation from within--to seize all that remained of Democracy and defiled and desecrated the threads of a proud banner clinging on for dear life. The lack-of-education had been a spell cast by elites...by women...fucking freaks, just like Betsy--those stupid enough to believe that their entitlement and name made them more important than everyone else. Artemis had said nothing and watched as the woman set out to dismantle a system of education and force religious nonsense on others, as a hobby to soothe her displeasure in marriage, ending life, or whatever. Artemis had wanted to better adjust Hera’s untrustworthy smile to mirror her "heroes", to save the time of tax-payers by cutting the shit, so that an old lady facade would fall away in a moment; to offer gleaming eyes and provide proper context for such booming evil freely.

The world fell into a new age of chaos--a darkness overshadowed the Judicial systems that countless soldiers had fought and died for--the perilous fights for freedom had been cut down to appease the emotions of lone sore winner and pathetic loser. An aging Boar had committed high-treason: demanding his hogs with "superior" genomes throw insurrection over the ballots that had already been cast and counted. They climbed walls like angry rats and dung beetles, scrambling and scurrying through windows--terrorizing offices and halting the important operations meant to uphold Justice and casually obstructing the peace. The citizens had been taught to create their own form of freedom, to reflect the values of a known pedophile and convicted rapist... and in doing so: they showed the world their true colors. Artemis sighed, watching as the idiots claimed their election had been stolen: they had decided to march to their deaths despite Artemis’s many, many warnings. They coughed on one another, annihilating their neighbors in arms, and eventually a few fell at the hand of their own stupidity. The world began to buzz and stir, asking one another--how they could "take control" over a lawless land, and Artemis raised a objecting hand again: reminding world leaders...that these fools were the simpleton ancestors of those that had slaughtered the original inhabitants of the land, so that they could molest, murder, enslave and hunt people of color freely.

Artemis rooted for her friends the Argonauts, war-hooping as their prime leader condemned the Boar, for attempting to forgo the laws of foreign lands...to use tax-payer funds acquiring a vacation following his obvious defeat: playing a lazy sport and cheating--claiming himself to be essential to any and all operations. The woman smiled--her voice boomed, as she calmly reminded the world that he was neither special, or an exception to quarantined boarders meant to protect her own citizens. Artemis sighed in relief--she took comedic joy in the notion that her homegirl had no problem constructing boundaries to cage the wild Boar, to toss his tantrums aside and contain his bullshit to a rule-of-law he had been too lazy to read--his temporary demotion...meant that the tax-payers no longer were obligated to draft posters and simplified graphs to explain basic shit, and his anguish in being alone had combusted into frustration; untamed and traveling freely.

"I know that ladyyy!" Artemis was proud of the company kept in profound moments, and she found solitude in knowing the world began to find new ways to cage the wild beast that attempted to flee the carnage he had brought upon the world--even with freed up time, and despite being in an ancestral and familiar hood--the Mechanical Boar avoided meeting up with a decrowned prince named Andrew. Peculiar. The world began to laugh, and Artemis felt sorrow fill her heart, as the citizens hadn’t the slightest clue as to what their "superior-minded" citizens had done to their own reputation--they had claimed superiority over others: despite being residual criminals... cast away as punishment by a Royal family--they had yet to understand the confounds of rehabilitation, as life had been played on easy mode. "Aren’t you tired of being laughed at?!" A spell she had once cast at a weeping reflection had no power when dealing the uneducated. Artemis had seen those all around the world--laughing openly; peering at the spectacle that was her lowly existence and knowing that sometimes they would only avoid the spells of mockery; whenever she was hunched over a stick...Artemis knew ugliness existed in the world...because she was the unspoken ugliness of the world. An orphan deemed unworthy of any form of pity--discomforting to gander upon in rare moments where she had been unable to stand up, her crippled body unwilling to walk or run away freely.

Artemis looked up at the Jury--wondering what more she could say: besides the fact that she was sorry for a late arrival as a witness...her pages had been aplenty, her intent concise. Just as she always did: Artemis was responsible for apologizing for whatever fucking mess Dianne had manufactured, and left without a chance to rebuke whatever had been decided to excuse her quaint character. Artemis had waited: knowing that Orion’s gangly idiot female friend from the North would feel comfortable traveling to new territories, basking in the new fames acquired through mere association with knowing Artemis. Two women holding candle-sticks had been caged by a triangle cell--one holding Dalias desires to keep hands clean at any cost, and the other holding an abashed siblings smile; Burke’s smile. Depredation chaining images to the strangers that appeared at random times in Artemis’s life--to feed on her suffering from time-to-time. A forestalled set of dreams had helped a woman longing to be loved; pull a ringing finger away Orion, seeing a lynching tether--to set a bar higher than mockery past death, and walk away unafraid of what it meant to fail in love...a second fear born; by the proof of a missing engagement ring--a sullied version of a certificate of marriage; painted robbery when a wedding ring had been vaulted away in--Artemis’s fear of losing stones worth more than the entirety of her coveted education. A semi-precious ring was priceless without the approval of an overbearing sibling drooling over the choices of another; the riches deemed unworthy without her blessing. Artemis had only wanted a life to call her own--building a trap of steel...that meant more on trail of despair...if the outcome would mean her voice could be heard past a grave freely.

If one were to ask why? Why would be an understatement to agglomeration of efforts put forward by a poet...in a world that deeply disliked poetry. To be the holder of keys to freedom, rung with truths and mettle would a burden too large for many to carry--Artemis had seen the tale-tell signs, lived with the nightmares of a Memories of Murder...there wasn’t much to see or unsee; when cast as an extraordinary pen laying near an average spoon in a puddle of mud. Life had given Artemis nothing, and Artemis had thanked it...beaming with pride, and telling the world; "I have been given everything". The viticulture harvested at the hand of grieving niece, an inquisitor of truth; conspicuously plucking away at a deluge of information...a beautiful baby, aplomb in outre’ moments; had given Artemis all the beliefs needed to let go of worries for the befouled "jokes" tossed listlessly over decades and live life as though it were a beautiful telling of unspoken dreams.

A moment to bow a head in defeat; to allow tears to aide and scribe prowess in the things that had already come to pass--to ask a niece to hold a line of questioning towards a juxtaposed witness; if it meant no one else got hurt...the words "fire away, baby." setting flame to the world. The opportunity for clarity would mean everything to a childish woman--realizing why an auntie had always held her to higher standards than everyone around. Artemis had gifted her niece with Athena’s owl eyes--eager and glaring to seek answers in the dark. The pathetic worth of Artemis standing as tapestry for the world to walk all over; the learned skill had been born out of survival in home--chained by trauma to a narcissistic sibling, and a sensationalist, and Artemis would do it all over again...if her niece felt love in her bones at the end of it all. Maybe she’d take up a throne defending the law, maybe she’d settle with just telling the world of Artemis’s stories...either way, Kris and Julie would be at her side; protecting her as they had both Artemis and Athena. The truth would set her free. Artemis and Athena were simply broken people; given nothing...raped, tortured and neglected to the brink of insanity, but they had done their best to build a nest of willow and olive branches to heal and reward those that cared to hear the horrific outcomes of stolen childhoods...there was nothing beautiful in their suffering. Not today, not tomorrow, and not in twenty-forty-eight. There was only sorrow, endless tears, and a worry that a handful of children refused to wake up in moments of unprecedented chaos. Tarry-drenched words had caused Artemis to stand by each-and-very horrific implication--with the lone hope to enjoy what was left of life freely.

Next Chapter: *[ 0 ] Artemis and the Sphere of Destiny*