Everyone Should Eat His Own Turtle (A Greek Myth Novel) by H.C. Southwark

Author:H.C. Southwark
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fantasy, greek mythology, orpheus, apocalypse
Publisher: Southwark Publishing
Published: 2019-01-26T07:00:00+00:00

~

She emerged from the doorway like a mouse from a hole, peering at the wider world. Most of the path along the house was deserted, only the old man with a scraggly beard on the far end. He was no longer chanting about shadows and illusions. She strode from the house, deciding that pretending to confidence was one way to make herself look bigger, stronger, more hassle than she was worth. But her clothes would always mark her as a foreigner.

Yet as she continued to walk, the old man was the only soul she passed. She turned the corner on the street, following the lines of the houses in this maze of a city, and everything was empty, disserted. Above, the sky was a rainbow of red, purple, black.

Where was everyone?

The festivals had to begin tonight, same as the last night. Tomorrow was the day when the Temple of Delphi would open. Surely the celebrations would be even more than the prior days—the excitement of all these people should be growing...

Turning another alley, Isme paused when she saw that it, too, was empty. She hesitated, then double-backed on her steps. Perhaps she had made a wrong turn—the merchants were all together in one area selling food, she had seen as much when she and her father had left the actors’ caravan and gone to the house.

Behind her, a sound, soft, like the padding feet of a child.

Isme whirled, expecting to find someone tracking behind her, perhaps someone looking for trouble, but there was no figure standing anywhere, the street still empty.

No, she realized. Not empty.

She said, “What have you been doing all this time?”

And the voice from the woods answered, “What do you think? Same as always.”

Curiosity and fear reared up from Isme’s belly. “Were you in the house with me?”

“Of course,” said the voice. “I am with you everywhere.”

Isme found she had a dozen rebuttals, from insults to pleading for mercy, but instead she glanced at the still-fading sky and said, “Do you know where my father is?”

“I am not following him,” said the voice. There was no condemnation, nor obviousness, in its tone. It was not reminding her of something it knew she already knew—it was simply stating a fact as though commenting on the weather.

“I know that,” snapped Isme, surprised with her harshness. Heaving a breath, she forced her body to turn and expose her back to the thing, to step forward. “Can you help me find him? Or at least find a place where people can help me?” Her mind leapt, and she added, “The actors from the caravan—they would help.”

“But they are at the festival,” reasoned the voice. “I heard the same prophetic warning as you last night, did I not?”

Isme almost stepped a foot wrong, but her ankle was strong enough to bear the burden at the odd angle. She continued forward, mind running ahead of her to the end of the street, another turn that led gods knew where. She said, “I must find him.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.