You had better sing, you Muse, because I’m tired of picking up your slack. Lately it’s been me doing the remembering and the inspiring while you snack on apple crumb cake and go to all the best parties. I can’t take this, I say. What did I ever do to lose inspiration? But that’s just self-pity; I’m really angry because things are getting muddy in my mind. I can remember the names and sometimes the faces, but I think I’ve lost the flavors. I can’t remember what the days tasted like anymore. So come on over to my place and remind me. Let me pluck those bygone days like harp strings and raspberries; let me lay them out naked and savor them with my mind. I’ll order pizza, and you can bring ice cream. We’ll forget our figures along with the world and giggle our asses off until rosy-fingered Dawn comes calling. Even then we’ll turn out the lights and pretend not to be home while she whines at the door like a little broken promise. It’s already in medias res because there are still rules that must be followed, but the past remains as confusing as today. It gnaws at me with broken, yellow teeth; you have to hear my prayers so I can be inspired to fight it. Even if everything else goes to shit, someone has to be here to remember. Tell it like it was.



  The stag ran, pounding the strong dark earth with his strong, dark hooves. His breath heaved through wide, quivering nostrils. His eyes were round with fear and threatened to roll back in his head; the forest slowly died around him as it had for centuries, and he could feel the hot breath of Time sliding around him.

  He swung the massive antlers atop his head sharply to the side as he heard pounding feet. It was not the light clopping sound of hooves on packed earth or fallen trees, nor the near silent rasp of paws on leaves, but a light slapping sound from large, smoother feet. So intent was he on this noise coming from his right, that he almost missed the twang of a bowstring from his left.

  Veering sharply, he jerked his head to avoid the arrow that streaked from the trees, but it clipped his long ears in a bloody streak. First blood was very important, he knew. He dashed to the right, reared in salute to the bright figure and sped away into the night with blood trickling from his ears to clot in the pale fur.

  Artemis followed him. Goddess of hunters and the hunted, she knew all there was to know about nights like this. She swerved though trees and under low-hanging branches with eyes wide though she did not need her sight. She could smell the animal, hear it, and sense his fear. She knew the outcome of every hunt from beginning to end from both perspectives. She knew how this one would end, but she tried to forget, tried to focus on these crucial moments and readied another arrow.

  Aphrodite flowed alongside her. She had allowed the stag to hear her footfalls so Artemis could shoot, but the huge animal would not be tricked by the same distraction twice. He was no ordinary animal, but one granted immortality as the greatest of his kind. A god or goddess was the only one with any hope of bringing him down. Mortals would be surprised to find the goddess of love, beauty, and sex in this dark forest, pursuing a deer, but she reigned over all creatures. She was with this stag when he sought a doe for mating; she watched his young being born. She thought it only fitting that she be present at his death. She watched her sister goddess darting through the moonlight, hair streaming behind her, legs flashing in the half dark, bow shining like the moon and knew there was something truly beautiful about the hunt. Aphrodite smiled, showing small, sharp white teeth.

  The stag slid down an incline, raced along the remains of a dried-up creek bed. He heard the two behind him do the same. They had no choice but to pursue him here. The trees leaning over the old bed prevented a clear shot from the silver bow. This stag was no fool. The one-time creek had wound a twisted course through the ancient forest, and the stag used this to his advantage. He sped on, endeavoring to always keep an outcropping of rock between him and his pursuers. He heard them fall behind.

  Athena leapt from the brush at the bottom of the dry bed, her spear pushed outward with the strength of a catapult. She caught the stag in the middle of his body, sending him flying to smash into the other side of the creek bed like a wooden doll. She had hoped to knock him down, but he kept his feet, shook his head and leapt. Blood trailed down his side, but the spear had caught him in his massive ribs, protecting his organs and foiling the blow. With one great jump, he attained the top of the ravine and sped away again into the night, his red blood a stain on the dry ground. Athena cursed. Goddess of tactics and strategy, she had felt certain her plan would work. An ordinary deer would have been down in an instant. She would have to rework her strategy and would not underestimate him again. Her sister goddesses raced by her and up the ravine. Artemis did not pause; she was so intent upon the hunt. Aphrodite winked as she flew by, and Athena did not know if she mocked or merely teased. She raced to the other goddess’s side and whispered in her ear. Laughing, Aphrodite nodded her head in agreement and dashed away to the left while Athena ran away to the right. Artemis sped straight on.

  The stag knew he had one of them on all sides of him. His chest ached where the last one had hit him. His anger grew as his stamina flagged. Soon he would reach the point where he could run no longer. He spied a clearing, a sacred grove lined with ancient trees; the bare earth of the center was flooded with moonlight. It was a place of ritual, but also a barrier. If he could pass through it, he could escape the goddesses and would have to flee no longer. On the other side he would become mortal, but better to die from old age or disease there than be cut down while in this form. The epitome of a stag, in this form he was all a stag could ever hope to be. If killed while like this, he wondered, did that mean all he was became nothing?

  He could taste the warm wetness of that mortal forest on his tongue, could almost feel its moss covered stones beneath his hoofed feet. He was so close, his feet almost within the moonlit clearing when she appeared before him.

  She knew a deer’s notions of beauty; she fulfilled every one: stately grace, glistening coat, wide, responsive eyes. She stood as a monument to animal perfection. Fawns from this one would be unparalleled. He could tell from the smell of her that she was in heat. He stopped dead in his tracks, desperate to prove his worth to her when he spied the other male. The other stag pawed the earth and lowered his horns. Quivering with his desire to mate with the female, the pursued stag did the same. He lowered his head and rushed to meet the new male with all the force of his immortal body. The rival male turned his head with astonishing quickness, rotating it almost upside-down to pierce the immortal stag’s flesh.

  Backing away quickly, the stag shook his head to clear it. He had to use all his senses at one time to see the goddess with the spear where the other male appeared to be. She had wounded him in the shoulder with that golden spear. He ground his teeth in rage. If the male was an imposter, what did that make the lovely female? He turned and found her to be another goddess, the pale one with a cascade of shining hair.

  His rage exploded at being so deceived. He leapt at the make-believe female, intent on punishing her. Aphrodite lifted her hands to protect herself. She was not a goddess of battles, and there was no time to flee. She hoped to avoid the deer long enough for her sister goddesses to strike, but the horns leapt for her so quick that she did not think she could dodge them. She knew they would cut her shining skin.

  The stag aimed for the throat of the shining goddess and knew she could not get away. He heard the pounding feet of the spear maiden, heard the loud cry of the arrow maiden and knew they would kill him for this, but he took joy in the thought that the shining goddess would suffer for his pains. But before he could pierce her glowing skin, his forehead met a white palm as unmovable as a mountain, and he crashed dazedly to the ground.

  He did not stay prone for long. He staggered to his feet to gaze upon the immortal queen whom he had forgotten. Mother to none of the others, she was mother to them all by her position, and she would not let him harm her children. Her limbs shone white in the moonlight, her golden crown glittered amid her dark hair, and her eyes blazed forth from her face like molten stone hot enough to make him wince. Though her countenance was grim, her bearing spoke of nothing but grace. The shining goddess peered from around her and winked at him.

  The other two goddesses looked to white-armed Hera and awaited her next movement. They did not know if she would allow them to kill the stag, or if she would let it retreat into the land of mortals where they could not follow in their current forms. To follow the stag there, they would have to return to Olympus, and the gods would want to know what they were doing going to the mortal world. The hunt they were on was best done without spies. Besides, how could they tell this stag from thousands of others when they were all mortal. They only wanted him when he was like this.

  The stag did not wait for her decision. He defied the immortal queen and turned to attack Athena while she was distracted. She blocked his antlers with her spear, so he struck out a hoof at Artemis. He knocked the bow from her hands as she raised it. Athena’s spear became entangled in his long antlers. Aphrodite cried out as the two goddesses battled with the stag. She cheered them on, wondering if they could defeat him without being injured.

  The stag pushed against the gray-eyed goddess in front of him while he kicked at the other. He was contemplating strategy while he locked eyes and weapons with the one in front of him when his head was suddenly seized in a grip like stone. Another hand seized his kicking leg, and he was hoisted into the air. Struggling, he looked down into the fiery eyes of the immortal queen and knew fear. He could feel some kinship with the other immortals, but this one was as far beyond them as they were beyond mortal humans. He knew then, peering into the eternity of her eyes that his life must end, that nothing went on forever. His time had come. Nevertheless, he screamed defiance until she brought his body crashing down upon her upraised knee and broke his spine in half.