“Do you want to see what I see mama?”: Artemis clung to a brave woman with sullen shoulders tightly--growling with comfort, blindly holding an occasionally inconsolable niece closer. She held her close; allowing the woman to mourn the last moments of innocence...unable to make reason for why three out of four children were now legally considered orphans. A sense of urgency lingered in the air.

Artemis allowed allowed the grief to wash over, to feel a stringent tone of terror--shaking heavily past the worn-down chords. The harsh tone protruding felt unfamiliar-removed from the person Artemis had once been. They were in unexplored territory, neither able to stop for a moment and rest--let alone grieve the loss of an Indigenous Warrior. There was an unexpected party to plan for--where Athena was the person of honor. Athens had collapsed overnight. The pair had finally stopped giggling in a foggy mist that had swallowed them alive upon their impromptu trip to Hades.

They were isolated in the wake of a small dirt clod--whizzing aimlessly, tumbling meaninglessly through space. There was no true north--there was no way home--Athena had burnt it all down out of spite with a lovesick smile on her face. There was no justice, no apology for the abuses of a stolen childhood...there was only the truth, and Athena’s selfish actions. She’d found a new way to punish Artemis; for the world refusing to care about them. "Hold on baby!"....Artemis swaddled Athena’s best friend--breaking past flames and off shooting sparks, and protecting a child from the impact of diving through the atmosphere by cradling her head. They were free-falling, an auntie holding herself responsible to protect a child at all costs-unwilling to give up a gift, too fragile, too precious to let go for even a moment. Artemis hid her hatred of Athena’s need to make her own life a living Hades.

Artemis re-ran scenes in her head--unable to recall why she dove head first from a carved out metal ship. Dreams were overshadowed by the terror of looking up at the sky, and seeing a niece blindly following her lead. She had chosen to forget that Athena would always plummet over an edge, needing to follow whatever pathetic lover that throne’d priority over her four children. Artemis and Dianne were literally the last worries of a teen mother, forever reluctant to get her shit together. There was nothing to do, but to sprint across a metal deck--heavy heels and a strict running form--something was wrong, and Artemis was given zero alternative in the span of a few moments. No trace of understanding lay upon Artemis’s face, as she hedged past every person she knew...screaming no, and haphazardly casting her self over a ledge without a plan. Artemis had been sent back to prepare a lost baby--to protect her mourning heart; heavier than a Golden bays foggy air.

Their only means of communications to the other universes being jammed--they were trapped on a graveyard planet. A niece and auntie landing upon the tree tops of dense forest that cradled Athena’s final resting place. The Redwoods stood taller than ever--the world less real than ever before, the stature of such revered magnificence mocked her. Athens had fallen. The premonition made even less sense, when seeing its leader abandon all she had built. Universal signals were lost among the rubble that thrashed violently around their planet--they were surrounded by waste, clashing in the skies above; mirrored by the citizens flocking to pick at the corpse of Athena. Artemis and Mama Bear had fell into a trance upon a mission, lost to the surreal aspects of it all--trapped on a timeline where nothing made sense, barely surviving off the land and guilt-filed air.

The satiric woes--those found only with the women born and cursed with the Brooks name: never failed to oppress the sun-filled moments. Artemis had a curse of clinging to her own death, and preparing for the worst-case scenario--forgetting that Athena was accountable to do the same. The poetic justice of finally being without a burdensome existence to all those she had met, had been gifted to a sister, a child missing her own mother. A eldest born--too delicate to hold the tarnished hopeless air.

An enthusiastic niece had an undeclared need for adrenaline--it had given path for detour, and they had paid the ultimate price. Artemis and Mama Bear had participated in a dancing game, and each had fell blind with the sins of their past: hypnotized to only speak a few key phrases and hiss between one another. The slumber found with pots, snakes and wicked laughter--had been used to momentarily escape Hades.

Their lives had now became a curse that was theirs to break together--the lack-of-caring had caused time to break its self into two. The time before Athens had fallen, and the rest of their lives. Artemis stood up at the challenge of coming to the aid of her niece--unrelenting in her need to prepare a child for the cruelness of the world; afraid of the edges of reason unraveling, its threads pulling apart without the presence of a woman holding it together each day--famed for running on clouds, her fierce strides--forever lighter than air.

Artemis offered the child an adventure to anywhere--with the means to see all that she had known; needing to broaden her emotional horizons after noticing her niece’s saddened tongue was stuck on a loop. The young girl would smile in daft boredom: her princess bun swaying with guile, looking around for her mother in the darkest of dreams. One random day-Mama Bear felt the need to take up a frown of seriousness, as her aunt repeated the question for the zillionth time. They had used shared dreams, as a gateway to the universe. Their bodies were transported via invisible portals--until shuffled responses matched up to the mouth of the right person. The child finally responded with simple and shallow laughter, mildly-suggesting she was afraid of Artemis. "Would you like to see what I see?" The magic words-- meant only to be presented by men found Just of heart, propped up by integrity. Mama Bear finally mumbled in humility: “No Sir, for that would be absurd.” Artemis began to weep uncontrollably, knowing her life was a fucking nightmare. She had finally realized reasons for an auntie with no children to shelter emotions. Artemis collapsed in horror to the new era of lovelessness rectified by a Mechanical Boar. She pushed away her niece with a stoney glare--too bothered by the loss of her own motherly figure, too worried about the rituals needed to assist Athena in reaching the next life--the expectancy of a youthful death; left a baby sibling scrambling to prepare proper burial...to avoid a fate wandering naked, deaf, blind and nameless through Hades.

Artemis had given this world all that she had: the clothes from her crumbling back, and the hair plucked from her own flesh--the smile she wore proudly...needing to remind them that she had been sexually assaulted, and paid the dues of surviving such ugliness. One day that promise of freedom ran out--Artemis capsized over a soul-less corpse, wailing with a guttural scream...unable to catch a breath between open sobs--her scarred hands trembling, grasping helplessly at a fallen sibling: needing the atrocity of such unfairness to be a dream. There was no plan of contingency for Athena, Dianne and Artemis...there was only suffering and the need to overlook their own suffering out of convenience or the need to survive. She had no words of comfort for the strangers holding a vigil for a lost mother, and unforgiving lover. Artemis had wasted her entire life: telling Athena just how much she loved her. How could she bother to gasp for a deep inhale, when Athena lay peaceful...slain--free from suffering at last, resting without a single breath of air.

Three sisters had barely survived the incomprehensible evils of mortal man--until on unextraordinary day, when death had found them unprepared... complicit in living normal lives at a distance. Artemis was still laughing at the memory of meeting Mama Bear for the first time--a false smile would appear undeniably sad now, as the preciousness of a baby continued about her unbothered day--crawling all over a grumpy auntie...had overshadowed moments with Athena. Artemis asked why the niece was so slobbery compared to her brother, as a baby remained tugging at a loosening ponytail and laying open-mouthed kisses as she saw fit. Artemis broke away from the strongest death grip known to man, holding the wiggling baby at arms length--needing the love-crazed infant to cease her affections and catch proper air.

The pair had been separated by time and space, but their smiles and laughter united them onto a shared timeline. Athena had done that, as fair compensation to her hidden plans of opting out sooner, rather than later. Artemis wondered how marvelous her bloody scene looked from above, as though her life was set to be viewed in aerial layout: complete with quirky upbeat music. Artemis chose to take the whole situation with marketable spirits. The apathy and lack-of-accountability found within Athena...was now instructing Artemis to touch a strange and vexing door that appeared to be the exit, and or entry--to or from a buried and forgotten land of Hades.

Artemis nodded in shame, pulling a wand meant to conduct a service as they marched in memorial. ORATORES, bellowed over a foggy crescent bay. Statistics had led Athena to an early grave, and Artemis was left to pick up the pieces of a broken childhood. There was nothing left of Artemis-the world had taken everything from her. Athena was finally whole, free to exist without suffering and pain-far from the clutches of their horrific blood-drenched path. Artemis was left explaining how Athena’s real name had been Afina--but a child with a lisp had grappled with hearing the difference, and took comfort in knowing that her beautiful sister was named after a revered Goddess. It had been more simple for them--to just move forward with a name dipped in greatness, and watch as people with pale skin took an honest mistake and ran with it. In all reality--Afina’s real name, her born Yurok name; was "Runs-on-Clouds" and their family had been forced to Westernize it to accommodate the comfortably of the citizens surrounding them in Hades.

Artemis, always being “the third”, of an unofficial band called "the girls"--an enigmatic addition to the pair that basked in the misery of others-until one unspectacular day, when she was forced to eat the sorrow of fallen orphan--to morph into misery itself. Artemis was occasionally wicked in her complicity to the company of two sisters, and for gossiping of their flaws--like any other sisterhood. The petite woman had been harboring a darker wickedness than both women combined, and she had been handed the consequences with unapologetic spine injuries. Before sobriety had washed over her life: Artemis had also wrestled with the dishonest physical responses of severe anxiety, unable to cling to a steady stream of thoughts--too preoccupied with trying to not die by way of limited oxygen reaching her brain: her body resistant in inhaling the embittered air.

Artemis felt angst in the memories of Athena; trying to remember her warmth and expectations--whilst forever laying beached, or grounded by the gravity she so despised. Artemis were cursed--to live a life of vertical or horizontal stiffness...left to crawl upon all fours at times. The unabashed curses of a love-for-love and a need for independence, meant less-than-nothing overnight. Artemis lived a life filled with expectations and hope, and borrowed sticks for her forearms. The life circumstances that refused to be embraced; were not personal problems, but just things that just happened to happen...to her. There was no room for victimization in a world where the citizens were already disgruntled by the amount of tax-payer expenses that had been accumulated during their juvenile life-sentences in a hidden away life: two piles of papers, easily forgotten in a version of their shared simulation of Hades.

Living in the dark and silence, Artemis apologized for existing and having a smile that were askew and absurd. The strike of Zues’s lightening had left the left side of her face paralyzed a handful of times. Artemis swayed in her madness, as she stood up in protest each morning: her kind laughter and smile armed and ready to change the world. She was no longer drooling over the unknown: finally free from the grasps of Athena and her bottomless despair--torn apart by the gesture of breath and the choice to value the preciousness of life. Artemis caught herself weeping without control; feeling unworthy to be of fair-enough health...left clamoring over Athena’s body and pushing away a niece as she called out for her auntie. None of it seemed real. All of their shared trauma had been for fucking nothing. Artemis was unable to comprehend the scene before her--falling over; obliterated by the fact that Athena’s corpse was nearly unrecognizable and unable to word how undeserving she felt for the gift of air.

Artemis had once refused to bow at the demand of the girl: she remained headstrong in her refusal to bow--asking Athena to care about the needs of her children over a slew of men, or to at least acknowledge the sheer wrongness of the immature wants of a teenager--forced to become a parent with a partner in his mid-thirties. Artemis had called a spade a spade, and Athena had refused to hear her worry. The sickness of pedophilia had been the cornerstone to the legacy of Athena’s children--and Artemis had been forced to be in unsafe environments due to her sick taste in men. Artemis explained to her nephew that there was nothing to change, there was no right path to stand upon...and that she couldn’t imagine a world without him or his sister in it. The gift of motherhood--had probably kept Athena alive longer in fact, as she took the role with stride and without a playbook due to the generations of failed motherhood that had preceded them. The results of inter-generational trauma had crafted Artemis a world without rhyme or reason, and she had only made it known to be the obvious indicator of a mythical place called Hades.

Artemis wondered if Athena’s soul was finally at rest, or left to observe younger siblings festering in the bliss of unknown. Could she see a small sister--sat upon the floor and began ripping out her own hair to surpass the guilt she felt in having a life to call her own. Could she her Dianne breaking down in tears as she attempted to grieve and raise a baby Lyon? Probably not. Artemis was reminded of Athena’s rage, learning that her eldest daughter had been the only person named on a paper meant to offer compensation for the loss of life. There seemed to be no end--to the emotional damages and lack-of-care from the eldest sibling. Artemis had literally no proof...that Athena had ever loved her at all, as she had deemed and provided two younger siblings with less-than-nothing...no goodbye, no hugs, no compensation to offer a moments rests in a time of mourning. The final insult--was meant to lay judgement one last time, to call Artemis and Dianne unworthy of anything from her hastily constructed empire...despite the many, many sacrifices given in holding up Athena’s crumbling life in the countless moments of maternal absence. Athena could fucking care less...about the two siblings barely getting by in the world, and that was with her knowing that they had been born in a pit of darkness alongside her. The situation was entirely expected, unsurprising and just another way for Athena to demand that two siblings bow in defeat...one clinging to a healthy nephew, and Artemis selfishly trying to claim a single guiltless breath of air.

Nothing brought comfort to the facts bricked upon a path that went seemingly nowhere. Artemis was taught explicitly by Athena and Dianne: that she deserved nothing to call her own. They had always made it their prerogative--to prove that Artemis didn’t deserve the fine linens she had paid for, nor the skin on her body, or the love in her heart. The unnamed jealousy of woman: had trapped the Gods of Olympus and their immeasurable might within a static-filled chamber, and brought out the worst in people--by offering the worst of circumstances at birth. Nothing but disdain and exhaustion waited outside the door for Artemis-there was no room for error, no place for adversity in the newly colonized land nicknamed Hades.

Artemis would not yield to either of her sisters: she didn’t believe in negotiating with religious terrorists and bad parenting. She had broken her heart into three, offering a piece to each sister: each left to prove their inability to hold identity outside of a cursed number three. Life had been so lonely without the two, picking apart her decisions, and yet the finite result had proven fruitful for two of the three. Two orphans were technically ok, and the eldest--lay lifeless before two sisters...reunited by the fact that Athena had given up for a whole single day. Artemis was left drowning on land, unable to comprehend the world around her-yelling Athena’s favorite quote "What the fuck is even happening?!". The world began to dispel itself, disenchanted by a world missing an unknown beauty--too fragile to hold, too distant to reach, too tired to care. Athena remained the illusive elder sister-talented at birth, given a shit life and literally told to crawl upon all fours as a young adult by Hera. Artemis felt a river of tears gently falling in the back of her throat-there was no amount of time or professional help that could unburden the surreal tortures of forgetting how to breath properly. There was no cure, for a person suffering from deep grief with no name, as it robbed Artemis of learned kindness and the will to capture air.

They had been enmeshed by a stolen childhood, bonded by trauma. Artemis was left with only the option to break away-to find her place in the world as an individual...unable to make excuses or enable bad behaviors. Artemis began to lie by omission of words and presence in their lives, and holding up boundaries that meant nights of endless tears and loneliness. Her battle with a poisoning substance had needed to get worse in order to get better: Artemis needed to find herself without the aid of substances. Wickedness can be seen as unilateral: only to be described accurately by those wicked in thought alike. The presence of her sisters had often heightened Artemis’s insecurities, one had been born to care for others, and the others ability to care only about herself; had somehow qualified Athena to try out for the Olympics. Artemis wasn’t exceptional in the slightest...her burdens of disparity often left her to be rendered as helpless--needing armies of strangers applauding: to earn entitlement to something as simple as air.

Artemis would catch herself observing them as people, as she would in any psychoanalytic situation. Wondering if their genetic relations meant they had been obligated to stay in touch. Artemis had always found the duo to be a part of a club-she had no wish or desire to take part in at times, as though she’d be canonized with their wicked behavior. It were unbecoming of a Princess, and so Artemis began to weave a perverse and entangled story by using only imagination...trying to make sense of it all, and needing a net of financial security if it was meant to be. Wishing only--to find the solutions past the door that Athena now stood guard: holding down a sad and lonely planet, caged away and labeled by other galaxies as a landfill; given a complimentary name--to fill obligation of naming a planet, and landing on the crappy name of Hades.

Artemis was a woman with two sticks--that propped her weight up at the elbows: an invisible citizen, overlooked by most among the crowds of thousands. The oddity of a handicap keeping her safe never seemed to surprise her, as strangers averted their gaze from her smile finally. There was nothing left for the world to take from her. Artemis was free to speak on her misery at last. The humiliating postures of being forced on all fours to manage pain and avoid seizure-suggested Artemis “wished” to be sexually assaulted, and that’s what she told them when asking about her discomfort. Their culture loved raping women and children...more than life itself. That was all they were going to be in her eyes...rapists, and those that help others. There was nothing complex about their statistics. The sick citizens already took wicked delight in chastising victims-gathering around women and asking why they had asked to be harmed, raped, violated--more often than not, taking it up as a community sport...until the shambled life of the survivor wasn’t deemed worthy of even the expense of air.

Such was the same here: for Artemis had stupidly let a boy give her flowers in front of her elder sisters as children. Leaving Artemis to hate being celebrated--knowing such kindness was often complimented by the anger of one of her two; occasionally unbalanced sisters. Artemis only lost balance in love-the lack of impact of her sisters opinion meant that there was more to life than a childhood; void of love and affection. There had been intensive conditioning in their youth-of being forced to accept that she was not allowed to have anything to call her own. The rational fears of mistrust of two women avoiding mental health services, had forced Artemis to hide Orion and Viking within the pages of a book. A premonition of literary success had allowed her to set out--to fulfill a secret unpaid career, while they were preoccupied by their own woes. Athena didn’t have to work hard to convince her sister Dianne to take pride in her docile criminality-she cast disinterest in reading a book that wasn’t about her. To this ugly contention: Artemis wept to her sister Dianne...accepting that nothing would ever be enough for Athena-as they bickered about the things unchangeable, and her childish need to dig up a past that had long passed. Artemis had to push aside her pride and ask for help by those that expected her to fail, and they had shrugged-stagnant in leaving behind the narrative that she was nothing more than a "stupid baby". She lay in spasm and seizure-being teased by the door that called her name at night, and degraded by her two sisters during the day. Athena had ripped off Artemis limbs and laughed-claiming spine injuries attained in childhood didn’t count: the youngest of the three sisters crawling for her life--too afraid to stop her frail body from dragging itself towards the door of Hades.

Artemis cried for a thousand lives over, and watched as the result fell conclusively the same. Artemis and Orion: unwillingly given the curse of Sisyphus by Athena and Hera...humiliated only by herself: smiling shamelessly, and openly making light of utilizing her rights to assisted suicides. A back-up plan was still better than no plan. She awoke one day-thirty something, alone and still without child to love...unable to care about a lame turn in leadership and a loser throwing hateful hands into the sky. They had thrown the citizens into her void of hopelessness, with a creepy weirdo named Elon shitting on their bowed heads...claiming it was only piss. There was no way this awful place wasn’t Hades.

The choices to re-traumatize oneself had painted a dreary portrait for the future, and a small and overlooked Red Book:had proven in a week-that the world was still a beautiful place. The concerns Artemis had held for the world were very real, processed, and censored. A path of enlightenment laid itself before the citizens that awoke to the understanding of mistreatment and began to wonder how they had all gotten to this place of hatred. She no longer needed to convince the citizens of the crumbling empire--or that their baby nation was a home of enslaved captivity, hostage to a few chief officer executives--diddling their dicks and pulling the plug on strangers as they saw fit. It was a strange relief to find validation in the pathetic facts of their environment, and yet...Artemis still managed to raise an eyebrow and grin at the equally-distributed misery of the citizens. A magnificent Tower of Babel had been erected on communist lands, and instead of shying away from words painted in terror...the citizens began to ask themselves why their lives had turned out to be so dreary, pathetic, and without solutions in happiness on any front. They had felt tiniest bit of sorrow in observing Artemis clinging to Dianne, standing near an exceptional person--cut down by depression and poverty, as two sisters began openly wailing and Artemis bravely asked "why is this happening to us?" The gift of curiosity would be the most valuable weapon known to man, and could potentially dethrone, rewrite, and nurture a corrupt Democracy. The world could be changed by a modicum of shame--brought on when witnessing three orphans try their best while sorting through the propaganda, false hopes, and taxed slavery that chained them all to the land of Hades.

Artemis would stand at the end of the table and watch as the men lit their stale fags: finally declining her promotion to rule the world with humbled honesty. They had made way for her as a novel figurehead-as to let Artemis take a leap in probable failure, and to silently judge--watching as a proper blunt was rolled. She raised an eyebrow and gestured to a fearless Mama Bear--suggesting she aim attention at the Lyon named uncle: forcing the blind men to pass her the blunt, as they each refused to partake. The child born with Aphrodite hoops and charm: always stood at the opposite head of the table to Artemis. They were considered fair--a pair of Indigenous Warriors, but Athena had always been the prettiest. Any female could vouch for the fact that the sometimes crass woman often took up the majority of the attention, and casually sucked the room of all its air.

Artemis felt her hand raise each day, as she reached for the door of death to appease morbid fascinations and find comfort behind the shielding of a palm. The blind hope Artemis held for the world and her Indigenous Warriors: barely kept her alive and warm, as she finally traded sharp and or, loaded weapons for mimed scenes. Breaking her false curse with a timeless golden code: three-three-zero-one: making infinite universes from four. Artemis scribbled the code upon the wings of a cicadas, and began laughing maniacally in amusement-no amount of caring could pay off how perplexed her readers probably felt, and to the facts of written history--polished beneath thick green marble. The world had forgotten her in their arrogance, and fell useless in remembering the Gods that walked before the lie of a God and his only son. Artemis had been taught from Hera, that Jesus and his infinite love was something to remain forever out of reach--all due to the disgusting sins of surviving rape as an infant, and landing herself in Hades.

They had been placed under the rules of religious zealots, unable to separate the boundaries between a temple and State-robbed of education by those that supposedly had the interest of the citizens at heart...those willing to commit theft and perjury on behalf of a pedophile-protecting governing body. Artemis wondered at what point the citizens would wake up and smell the shit-smeared roses: she fell bored by their incompetence and amused that they didn’t like the idea of the world laughing in their faces, or protested their oppression without being asked to do so. They remained prideful citizens drowning in debt: bent over to suck a weird guy named Elons smaller-than-average dick, or to prepare for the anal penetration of a loser named Mark...fingering assholes to retrieve and gauge personal information at any cost. Both men were pretty gross in their negligence to power, one man: forever chasing a immature need to be liked by his peers at any costs, and the other...fathering spiteful children by the handful--needing to smear his pale "superior" genetics across the world, his belly flopping all over as though bearing the labor of his own children. It was nice to see the people agree that his rhetoric was hate-filled, and meant to undermine the diversity that had built a Nation at one time in history. The underpaid and undervalued citizens pointed out that his management of time didn’t align with reality. He had accomplished too much, in too little amount of time, calling citizens lazy and fat when they asked basic questions or sought advice: ranting when being caught cheating red-handed. The other man was just bleh...a shell of a person; accidentally reminding the citizens of how much they missed an innovative and trustworthy man named Tom. The upcoming Chief of the free-est of Nations had been the first in line--to tickle his old tongue on Elons hairy balls-and bend over for his rectal examination by Mark. For whatever reason...the gestures of truth turned off many of the citizens, confused as to how why people kept calling Mark a person, and wondering what piss-laced details were being held over their nominated Chief of the Land: since a weird cheating guy, had been crowned as the next First Lady of Hades.

The unoriginal sphinx had locked them in a room in her spite: Athena forever queen of all wickedness-a fury beyond logical reasoning, a beautiful memory locked away beneath endless pages. It would take more than a slit throat, or Athena herself-to make Artemis consider forfeiting her person-hood to a common bully. Kneeling temporarily: Artemis had dangerously taken risk, and gave her heart to Mama Bear to protect forever...unable to forgive the apologies Athena never gave in life, and loving the child as her own; openly admiring her tenacity and need to rely on people. Mama Bear had been a risky but loyal choice--always managing to restore her high placed tussle of curls upon a crown, and bear the better qualities of all three sisters. Mama Bear was their key to the way home-her light laughter elevated and inspired all those she met. All but Athena, who had more-than-once...wished the child to leave her home and never return: mad when orders were disobeyed and childcare wasn’t offered as free service. Athena lived with a maternal logic that was both insincere and absurd, and Artemis had often been left to pick up the broken pieces of her niece as she wallowed in self-pity; missing a mother figure that barely existed, and struggling to catch a break--let alone a guilt free breath of air.

Athena hadn’t always hated youth and beauty, but the world had stripped her away bit by bit--the pillars of morals had never been erected by her own choice. It was only Hera--that reminded Athena of such female-driven hatred, whenever left asking for her advice as a last resort. The wicked now led the wicked. Artemis told Mama Bear-many tales of admiration as she grew older: of how her mother had ran track as a Goddess among mortals- correcting a disrespectful teenager whenever she dared to call her birth mother lazy. The woman had grown up; surrounded by men armed and ready to back an athlete, as she paved herself a direct path to the Olympics. Artemis had no way--to make the free-spirited teen see the truth of their immortal status in the world; given only the option to cut down the endless excuses for and by Athena, and her impressive ability to do nothing most days. Athena watched, as Mama Bear screamed her woes into the void alongside her auntie in their shared dreams: finally afraid of Artemis and her might, as the two always found one another. Just as she had done with the cyclops: Artemis used her heart-shaped mirror to defeat and categorize her trials, as the monsters accidentally fell into her lap...one right after another. Artemis had finally gotten word of the cyclops and his defeat--forever defined by one word that mended the evil words of unknown lies and corruption: Chernobyl. Artemis and Mama Bear had castrated the cyclops with only a screwdriver and a piece of tape that labelled the handle of the tool marked, “lies”. Artemis had successfully painted the world in the colors of chaos once more-with her love of all things silly and absurd...her pages providing temporary relief in moments where the most unsteady person wasn’t Artemis, Dianne, or even Athena-but, a convicted rapist that held the keys, deeds, and trust of the citizens in the majority (sort-of). The sickness of hopelessness had began to take its true toll on the citizens of Hades.

Artemis had told Mama Bear to lend her sparkling eyes to the world, as she had accidentally painted it dull and dreary: with the seasonal depression brought on by a cursed door calling endless souls to the gates of Hades and beyond. Mama Bear was left without her Golden Fleece, a mother and a father. Artemis grabbed Mama Bears hand, and promised to find her a new shimmering apple: even if they had to build one themselves. They owed nothing to the woman that had been complicit in cursing Artemis with crippleness, and neglected a mourning daughter until an attempt at suicide lay as evidence on a circasian table. Artemis would say "I’m glad you’re here, I love you" whenever Mama Bear would doubt her worth, and they grew stronger together. The healing of laughter and hugs would save both of them from an eternity of wandering around trying to help a person that didn’t want the help of others in first fucking place, as they each struggled to survive in Hades.

Artemis turned a small pink mirror in both hands, and caught the glimpse of Cretan Bull that bowed before Athena. She informed Mama Bear that a bull was sent to retrieve them-for having ran away, living comfortably without the presence of Athena. Artemis responded quickly to the sighting, and used the reflective glare-to impose a label upon the bull with the number eight: in case Artemis forgot his appearance or had her memory wiped. Athena had been notorious for being equally awful in losing-as she were in victory, and Artemis threatened her false persona of maternal admiration by caring only to fulfill the duties of an auntie and nothing more. Artemis had shoved her disappointment in Athena far away into the non-zero--that now held them all captive. Artemis gave Athena a proper mask and a name all-too-deserving: Azula. Artemis wasn’t afraid of fire, but cowered in fear at the immeasurable forces of water. The tears that posed threat at the mere idea of losing her first niece and nephew, as they struggled with depression--depicted and inflicted by the seasons or Athena herself. Her talents in mathematics had been chosen to compliment Artemis’s love of the wind beneath Athena’s skillful feet-manipulating and adjusting the cavitation of air.

Artemis had once clipped her own wings--to force herself to face her sister, as she no longer felt shame in the ability to love and embrace the presence of other people. The act had given her the freedom to hide from Azula until it were safe for Artemis to return home to Athenas open arms. That day never came. She cast colorful feather boa around her supposed enemy with the accompaniment of a flamboyant performance, singing tunes meant for live performances-only found on the famed East coast. Artemis took in the spotlight, holding a head and diaphragm high...preparing for a race with no finish-line. The world was waiting for her let go of an obsession with a door marked for death. Artemis turned to pivot, unsure what the future held in store...sensing as the room began to fill with standing ovation: finally letting herself bow under the warm lights of a vapid girl named Athena: now a pilot to their simulation--holding the lock and key of the skyboat that kept them captive in Hades.

Artemis held her hand to the Earth, and allowed her body work as an antenna to the metal-rich and highly conductive soils. Artemis begged Mama Bear to assist her in escaping imminent death, as the seasons flipped into spring and allowed the two with the option to remove their heavy veils of grief. Dreams of being able to walk had often kept them stuck in chapters unending. Artemis had traveled thousands of planets, and dimensions--searching for the exact Mama Bear from her memories. Giving a stubborn niece hugs and kisses until she moved into action with a defiance-the poor child had wanted nothing out of life except her mom, and Athena had only wanted a best friend. Artemis asked the girl to drag her limp torso towards the door, and explained that her broken spine had rendered her undetectable as threat to the beasts surrounding them. Afina had always been the leading scout on their adventures--holding a lookout for danger with the nose of a wolf, the ears of an elephant, and the eyes of an owl. Their childhood of unmentionable horrors had nurtured Afina to care about the act of keeping everyone alive to be sufficient to the efforts needed to be a parent, a decent friend, or reliable sibling. Artemis worked hard not to take offense by her stand-offish personality, as it was no different than her own one-thousand-yard stare; laying scars upon the memories of all those foolishly forgetting that three sisters had been tortured for at least a decade in the fostering systems of Hades.

Artemis had been left with no other option than to return to a moment of singularity; to a simulation of ancestors, and to fulfill a fate of being a Trojan horse...carried by a maiden nicknamed Helen of Troy. The child was punished by her own mother with ambivalence, offended by the two women existing in absurd defiance to her uneducated words. The mighty young Indigenous Warrior carried her aunt, giggling as they went about their day. Her grieving niece silently wept tears-doubling in the weight of that of Artemis: the price she had paid...for having the audacity to demand that her mother Athena, knight her as a person worthy of love and respect. A late blooming friendship between mother and daughter had spared the story from being tragic beyond -all-words, and Artemis had been forced to make the most out of it. She had taught the child to escape the hell of her own mind--simply by roaring her own name: A name that held no power unless she were lost in Hades.

Artemis had caught herself on the ledge of sanity; yelling at strangers upholding the law and attempting to explain procedure to three woeful people while standing behind a cold office desk. A certificate of death had been brought in, and offered to authorities--traded for the right to rummage trough Athena’s home in search of keys to a storage. Artemis began cursing, wondering why things had been so difficult for her family--even in death. There came a moment of imbalance, where she was left to negotiate the worth of a sacred regalia, and whether Athena’s cremation ceremony was proof enough for the world--that three sisters, obviously hadn’t survived the torment imposed by the citizens of Hades.

The pavement beneath her boots had been just as unapologetic. Artemis fell into a spell of mania-taking a sharp turn and returning to a storage filled-to -the-brim with a deceased siblings earthly belongings. The most helpful of Athena’s boyfriends had seen Artemis struggling to decide what was right in the moment, and what was right...for sake of a bigger picture. Artemis convinced Elliot to turn his boat around, so that she may observe whether procedure meant more in words than in actions-hoping that a small red key had still been a viable option-or if they had replaced it with an unbreakable padded lock. As luck would have it--trespassing had been put on the table as a solution for her worries that Athena may not pass to the next-life without proper leathers announcing her place in the universe. Artemis began to climb upon shifting boxes and crammed furniture--holding a bizarre scene in a powdered semi-formal dress, as she committed a potential crime in broad day light. The poor sucker conducting her search and scout had been so hopelessly in love with Athena, that Artemis wondered if he had been discarded for being "too nice". Before the thought was formulated, he announced the arrival of a worker-declaring war on people blatantly trespassing. Artemis found the suitcase despite her mind racing--lugging it over mountains of belongings and hooping over his shoulders: breathing with panic, as feet fell heavy to the cement....scared of the uncertainty of what was to come next. The punishment of being sketchy often left Artemis with dancing eyes and an inability to catch a breath--her body unable to defend criminality and resisting a physiological request for air.

Artemis turned to a nearly-empty chariot, asking her quiet eldest nephew to say less, as she managed to gain control over a situation that relied solely on the choices made in a desperate moment of needing to try. Artemis explained the religious reasons for the crime, weeping and saving decades of sitting in an office meant for mental wellness with a single conversation. She offered the entirety of the contents, and some magical key--in exchange for a small bag. There came a moment where rage flooded through her veins--offended that Athena was still posing bad influence over her actions. Law and order had been Artemis’s favorite, and yet here she was...breaking into places where she was unwelcome--all in hopes of cleaning up one last mess for Athena. The offering to view the contents of personal belongs had been met with disusage and objection--even though Artemis knew the evidence had been pure in intent, and that the aromatic white elk leather would explain itself. She held her breath, preparing for the worst but wishing for the best--if it the solution was as simple as bringing forth the sweet smell of victory into the saddened air.

They were free to leave, as there was nothing but pity for Athena’s passing. Every time she turned around, people kept telling her how much they cared for a woman that was too selfish to care about anyone but herself. Artemis apologized to her nephew...attempting to be prideful in the fact that her actions were out of character--more on brand with some shit his mother would do and get away with. They arrived at the morgue, sacred outfit in hand--no story to boast of when the outcome remained the same. Artemis asked for a favor of her stern nephew--offering that he take a final lap around the small building, as to wrap his mother in a final hug and make it known that he had come to pay his respects. While inside-Artemis managed to lay out fashionable pieces; meant to announce royalty...startled when her brave nephew walked up beside her kneeling over Athena’s last outfit and preparing her for one last trip. Hoping to land her spirit into the next life--safe from harm, far, far from the reaches of the citizens of Hades.

Artemis handed her nephew a single leather moccasin--recalling the benign conversation had with Athena when asking to keep the unlost article for safekeeping. It had been special, not because of its value--but because it was made to fit a baby. He asked to see his mother, and Artemis whispered "no baby-your mom doesn’t look like herself". She had wanted to protect Athena’s children from the trauma of seeing who she had chosen to become. A helpful man heard his determination, probably wondering why he hadn’t known of the son wandering in all late and making demands on a whim. He was Athena’s kid...after all. They had a moments peace with Athena--her eldest son had finally returned to say "I love you" one last time, and finally finding comfort in the fact that, as always: Athena couldn’t manage to return the sentiment. Artemis had always given such pathetic words of admiration to Athena, and it had built distance between her and a nephew--that had turned himself into a grey rock to defend from Athena’s diagnosis of suffering with narcissism and a disorder of polarizing moods. The default of blaming anyone but Athena, for her parenting choices had finally dissipated--and he was left with an auntie that had so often tried to love him, now struggling to accept a life without her big sister--fearful that she was mourning a childhood that never existed in the first place. He had offered up a piece of identification for Athena to hold, and Artemis wept more than ever. Nothing made sense--from the untimely death of Athena, to the fact the world had worked so hard to prove to three sisters that they were undeserving of love, and now Artemis was without a big sister. Her nephew had walked into a building as a boy-afraid of whatever truths lay in a temporary casket, and left as man. She fought to control the trembling of her body--saying goodbye to Athena one last time, as she stepped outside into a new world and leaving the fallen Goddess to rest near the ocean she had loved so much. Artemis hoped Athena would be happy at last--safe from the abuses that had sickened her heart and soul in life: free to exist finally, as she sprinted over dampened sands. She took solitude in memories from a stolen childhood, and pictured Athena’s head held high--with a colorful ponytail thrashing behind unapologetic strides as she played along the ocean. Artemis had wanted to believe that her sister could finally feel the words of all those that valued her life, and place in their lives--to know, and genuinely feel that she had always been loved.

Next Chapter: [ XXXIV ] Artemis and the Sampo